Washington Examiner
· collected 2026-10-07 · by Samuel J. Abrams
Three years after Hamas attacked Israel on October 7, 2023, killing approximately 1,200 people and kidnapping over 250 others, a Jewish American writer reflects on personal experiences of conflict within their community. The article focuses on attending a concert by Israeli musician Idan Raichel, where the writer finds new meaning in his music amid ongoing uncertainty and adversity.
Written locally by qwen2.5:14b on 2026-10-07,
using this article's own text rather than the other coverage of the
same event (that is the story summary below).
Three years ago this week, on Oct. 7, 2023, Hamas attacked Israel, killing about 1,200 people and kidnapping some 250 more in the deadliest attack on Jews since the Holocaust.
asserted
Hamas → attack → Holocaust
Three years later, I am still trying to make sense of everything that has happened since.
asserted
that → try → everything
But for many Jewish Americans, there was also the experience of watching our own communities, workplaces, and institutions change almost overnight.
asserted
communities → be → Americans
So many people and communities we thought we knew and thought we were part of said things we never expected them to say, and places where we had spent years suddenly felt very different.
asserted
we → think → years
I have spent much of the past three years fighting battles at my college that I never imagined I would have to fight.
asserted
I → spend → college
I have been called names, and my family has been physically threatened.
asserted
family → call → names
Students have been warned about taking my classes, many have boycotted me, and I have had to spend far too much time defending myself and my place at an institution where I have taught for almost two decades.
asserted
I → warn → decades
I have written a lot about what has happened, and I am sure I will write more about it.
asserted
I → write → it
But that is not what I want to write about on this anniversary.
asserted
I → want → anniversary
I want to write about a last-minute concert in New York where I had the honor of seeing the Israeli musician Idan Raichel perform.
asserted
musician → want → honor
I have listened to Raichel for more than 20 years, but something struck me that night: His songs mean something very different to me now.
asserted
songs → listen → me
The songs have not changed, of course, but after Oct. 7 and everything that has happened since, I hear them and interpret them differently.
asserted
I → change → them
The title means “come,” and I have always loved the song.
asserted
I → mean → song
It is about taking someone’s hand and moving forward without knowing exactly where you are going.
asserted
you → take → hand
Don’t ask when happiness will come.
asserted
happiness → ask → ?
Time keeps moving, and so do we.
asserted
we → move → ?
When I first heard those words more than 20 years ago, I heard a love song.
asserted
I → hear → song
It was a beautiful song about two people confronting all the uncertainty that comes with life together.
asserted
that → confront → life
We do not know where we are going.
asserted
we → know → ?
We cannot promise each other happiness or even know how much time we have.
asserted
we → promise → time
But take my hand and let us go together anyway.
asserted
us → take → hand
I still hear that song, but after Oct. 7, the “we” has become much larger for me.
asserted
we → hear → me
I hear something about the Jewish experience of the past three years and about how to live in a dangerous and uncertain world.
asserted
I → hear → world
We do not know what comes next.
asserted
what → know → ?
We do not know when happiness will come or exactly where we are going.
asserted
we → know → ?
But we take one another’s hands, we keep moving forward, and we do not surrender who we are.
asserted
we → take → hands
Early in the concert, which was just Raichel and his piano, he began singing “Bo’i“, and the audience began singing with him.
There is obviously nothing unusual about people singing along at a concert, but this time I heard the song in a completely different way.
asserted
I → begin → way
Maybe it was because of everything that has happened over the past three years.
asserted
that → happen → years
Or it could have been that I was just tired and needed to hear it.
uncertain
I → need → it
But being in the room and listening to hundreds of people singing together in Hebrew, I had a very simple thought: We are a people who sing.
asserted
who → listen → thought
Jews sing all the time.
asserted
Jews → sing → ?
We sing on Friday night and at the end of Shabbat.
asserted
We → sing → Shabbat
We sing around the Passover table and under the chuppah at weddings.
asserted
We → sing → weddings
We sing at celebrations, and we sing when we mourn.
asserted
we → sing → celebrations
My son and I sing together in synagogue.
asserted
son → sing → synagogue
I know melodies because my parents knew them, and my children now know some of those same melodies because I sing them.
asserted
I → know → them
Some of these words and melodies have been passed from one generation to another for thousands of years.
asserted
Some → pass → years
But there we were, singing it together, three years after the deadliest attack on Jews since the Holocaust.
asserted
we → sing → Holocaust
Our shared singing of a song about moving forward hit me hard.
asserted
singing → share → me
So much of the Jewish experience since Oct. 7 has been about responding to other people.
asserted
much → respond → people
…and 31 more, not listed.
The Aporia
