One Year Since October 7

October 7 was supposed to be a nice day.

It was supposed to be a day for concluding the Feast of Sukkot, resting for Shabbat, and enjoying a day with family.

Instead, I woke up to see a message from my father: “Israel caught off guard; under attack.”

I soon learned that thousands of Hamas terrorists had overwhelmed the Gaza border and started going door to door, violating and brutalizing every person they could find. I heard of infants being decapitated, butchered in their cribs, or burned up beyond recognizability. I heard of women being hunted, raped, and dragged into captivity, covered in their own blood. Children were slaughtered in front of their parents; parents were slaughtered in front of their children—simply because they were Jews.

In a single day, Palestinians murdered some 1,200 people and seized 251 more as hostages, all as they arrogantly filmed their atrocities, laughing and shouting praises to their demon god. It was a day of mourning for the Jewish people—a second Shoah. Whether in the Land or in the Diaspora, we Jews could all suddenly feel the very spirit of the Holocaust burst from its grave and stab us in the gut, leaning in close to whisper in our ears, “Did you really think you’d never see me again?”

Before we had time to mount a counterattack—or even time to identify and mourn our dead—antisemites around the world had already taken to the streets in support of the heinous savagery against us, calling for a global intifada and the destruction of the Jewish state. Since that day, I’ve watched society grow more depraved, more brainwashed, and more violent. As of the time of this writing, the end of the war continues to elude us, and the end of this rising wave of anti-Jewish hatred is nowhere in sight. I have been forced to accept the fact that antisemitism is here to stay, and that my nearly-eleven-year-old brother will grow up in a world where it is once again dangerous to be a Jew.

Now, it is a year later.

Somehow, this year has felt like both an eternity and the blink of an eye. My spirit has constantly hurt for the Jewish people—a sharp pang for the first few months, softening over time into a dull ache. Every so often, the weight of it all will unexpectedly rush back over me, dredging up all of the emotions, stories, and images of October 7 as though it were yesterday. On the outside, I try to remain my usual jovial self, behaving as normally as I can for the sake of the others in the room—especially young Asher. Inside, however, I am thousands of miles away, my soul wracked with pain and my guts feeling like they might implode. Before this year, I had never fully identified with Paul’s visceral cry in Romans 9:1-4:

“I say the truth in Messiah—I do not lie, my conscience bearing testimony with me in the Ruach HaQodesh [Holy Spirit]—that I have great grief and unceasing pain in my heart. For I was praying to be accursed—I myself—from the Messiah for the sake of my brothers, my relatives according to the flesh, who are Yis’raeliym [Israelis]….” (mjlt)

Paul’s language here is not hyperbolic—he meant every word. I know it now for myself. His heart was pierced through, pouring out grief and prayers and pleadings for the sake of his Jewish family. Paul didn’t ask for God to take away the pain; rather, he prayed that the pain would be permanent—that he would be forever separated from Messiah—if only it would save the people of Israel. He was willing to do anything if it meant Israel’s salvation.

In times like these, when our hearts are in agony for Israel, we try to look with hope toward the future—hope that the pain will stop, for the Jewish people and for ourselves. We pray for the salvation of Israel from her troubles, and for God to take vengeance on all of the Jews’ enemies. We beg God for that day which He promised so long ago, when He will send the Messiah to deliver Israel from those who hate her. In that day, Messiah will make war from Mount Zion, from the throne of David His father, to strike the nations with the sword—soaking His garments in their blood—and to rule over them with a rod of iron (Rev. 19:11-16, Isa. 63:1-8, Psa. 2 & 110). Then will the Scriptures be fulfilled which say, “The righteous will rejoice when he sees the vengeance; He will wash his feet in the blood of the wicked,” and again, “[Israel] will no longer be a prey to the nations… but they will live securely…, and they will not endure the insults of the nations anymore.” (Psa. 58:10, Eze. 34:28f, nasb).

For thousands of years, through suffering upon suffering, we Jews have awaited that glorious day. We underwent pogroms, expulsions, and holocausts—yet the Messiah did not save us from our enemies. We have endured the evil yet again since October 7, now entrenched in an existential war as those who hate us deafeningly demand our destruction—yet the Messiah has not saved us from our enemies. As our deferred hope for deliverance makes our hearts sick (Prov. 13), we look to Heaven and ask, “Why does Mashiach not come now? We are fighting for our survival now, so why does He not save us now?” And with deep agony, Adonai answers, saying to His people Israel:

“Oh that My people would listen to Me, That Israel would walk in My ways! I would quickly subdue their enemies And turn My hand against their adversaries. Those who hate the Lord would pretend obedience to Him, And their time of punishment would be forever. But I would feed you with the finest of the wheat, And with honey from the rock I would satisfy you.” (Psalm 81:13-16, nasb)

“Behold, the Lord’s hand is not so short That it cannot save; Nor is His ear so dull That it cannot hear. But your iniquities have made a separation between you and your God, And your sins have hidden His face from you so that He does not hear.” (Isaiah 59:1-2, nasb)

The Father would love nothing more than to subdue Israel’s enemies, forever keeping us safe and satisfied. But when we walk in our own way and turn to sin, we separate ourselves from His protection, leaving ourselves exposed to the powers of evil and destruction with which HaSatan targets us. This is why Paul was so heartbroken at the state of his Jewish people: though having zeal for God, we lack knowledge of His righteousness (Rom. 10:1-3), leading us to wander far from the Master’s protecting wings, His cleansing sacrifice, and His restoring return (Mat. 23:37-39, Act. 3:19-21).

Realize, my friend, that Israel cannot save itself. No amount of firepower or diplomacy or assimilation—or even adherence to Judaism!—is able to destroy the demonic forces of antisemitism. Though God, in His faithfulness, will always preserve a remnant (no matter how far we stray from Him), the Jewish people as a whole are lost in a spiral of confusion, blindfolded and unable to find the way back to God’s protection (Isa. 6:10, 2Co. 3:14f).

There is only one hope for Israel—one way to peace and security for the Jewish people: it is through the Jewish Messiah, Yeshua, who alone has the power to save our people from our sins and from all those who hate us (Mat. 1:21, Luk. 1:71). It is Yeshua who mediated the New Covenant of peace, by which all Israel will be cleansed from sin and restored to God (Jer. 31:31-34, 33:6-16; Eze. 37:24-28). It is Yeshua who took all our griefs and sorrows upon Himself, giving His life as a guilt offering for our people (Isa. 53:4, 12, 8, 10). Yet, as Scripture prophesied, we Jews have not believed Yeshua’s message (v. 1)—rather, “He was despised, and we did not esteem Him” (v. 3, nasb). Even as we have walked in darkness and death-shadow (v. 9:2), my people have remained blind to the one source of light which can never be extinguished.

But through the darkness of October 7, perhaps Yeshua’s light can finally reach Israel’s eyes.

When tragedy struck on that Black Shabbat, the entire Jewish world was shaken to its core. A stark line has been drawn, separating those standing with us from those supporting our destruction. Jewish people all around the world have been shocked to find that many who claimed to be our allies have stood against us—“All her friends have dealt treacherously with her; They have become her enemies” (Lam. 1:2, nasb). But as the chasm between those for and those against Israel increasingly grows wider, we are also beginning to see clearer than ever who is on our side. Many of my fellow Jews are coming to accept the Christians who are in our corner, considering them family and champions of the Jewish cause. Miraculously, I have even witnessed unsaved Jews vehemently defending the Jewishness of Yeshua Himself! No longer considering Him an anathema or a traitor to His people, some are beginning to recognize the Master as a brother—a true Israeli who loved His Jewish people.

My heart’s desire is that the unspeakable evils of this season will not have been in vain. My hope is that during this perilous time, Messianic Jews and their Gentile brothers in Messiah will show themselves faithful—seeking Israel’s salvation at any cost—and cause Jewish hearts to experience an unprecedented openness to the Good News of Yeshua, the King of the Jews.

As we mark one year since Israel’s world turned upside down, let us—as the Body of Messiah—seek to be Yeshua’s hands, holding out the word of life to the Jewish people (Phi. 2:16), and to be His feet, carrying the Good News of Messiah’s salvation, so that Israel may believe in Him and Never Again be put to shame (Rom. 10; Isa. 52:7, 28:16; Joe. 2:27). Let us have unceasing pain and great anguish in our hearts for the sake of the Jewish people, refusing to have comfort or rest until Zion shines the light of Yeshua’s salvation throughout all the earth (Isa. 61:1ff). Let us work within our own spheres of influence, doing all that we can to reach the Jewish people, so that “by any means… [we] will save some of them” (Rom. 11:14, mjlt)—and indeed, save all Israel.