Two years after the massacres in Israel by Hamas terrorists, our global Jewish identity has been changed forever. The grief and horror of that October 7 day remain in us: families torn apart, lives cut short, hostages whose fate remains unknown. Our collective sense of safety has been shattered.
This pain is not only in Israel; it reverberates across the globe, carried in the hearts of Jews everywhere. It reminds us that no matter what, we are one people.
This year, the anniversary of this tragedy falls on Sukkot, a holiday that asks us to step out of our solid homes and sit in fragile huts. Sukkot demonstrates that vulnerability is not the end of the story. Even in structures that cannot shield us from wind or rain, we are invited to find joy, welcome guests, and draw strength from being in community with each other.
The effects of trauma
We are not just carrying the memories of that day but also the wound of betrayal. We believed society had evolved. We watched as colleagues, neighbors, and institutions that once felt safe turned away or excused hatred. The shock felt like a knife to the heart. The trauma was not only in what was done to us, but in the shattering of trust.
What deepens the pain is not only the violence itself, but the way the world responded. Silence. Denial. Accusations. Abusers use a tactic called DARVO: deny, attack, and reverse the roles of victim and offender.
Applied to antisemitism, it is profoundly destabilizing. It does not just dismiss Jewish suffering; it strikes at Jewish identity. When we are defamed, we are blamed for our own pain and told our fears are imagined.
This is what I call identity destabilization: the psychological impact of macro-gaslighting – a form of gaslighting that plays out on a cultural and societal level. It strikes at our very core, our sense of self, safety, and belonging, shaking the ground beneath us and corroding trust in the world around us.
The effects of this type of gaslighting can trigger a fight-or-flight response, leaving us in a heightened state of anxiety and stress. Reclaiming identity in the face of hate and profound loss involves not only addressing the emotional pain but also reaffirming the strength, diversity, and richness of Jewish culture and community.
The sukkah offers us a counter-message. From the outside, it looks like a mere hut – simple, temporary, exposed. But we choose how to fill it. We hang decorations, bring in food, sing, laugh, and invite others to join us. We transform it from fragile to festive. The same is true of our inner lives: we may not be able to change what surrounds us, but we can choose how we fill our minds and hearts.
Resilience is not about snapping back to what was before; that language belongs to physics, not to people. Instead, it is taking pain and integrating it into a story that creates strength. It means letting grief shape us, not shatter us.
Jewish resilience means we are not defined by the darkness that sought to break us. We honor suffering by turning it into meaning, dignity, and growth, just as we have through centuries of exile and persecution.
Perspective is where that transformation begins. We cannot choose what happened, but we can determine what we do with it. We can notice the story we are telling ourselves and ask: Can I give myself credit for courage rather than criticism for struggle? Can I connect this moment of pain to my values and turn it into purpose?
When we shift our perspective, we shift our power.
Shifting during the High Holy Days
Jewish thought invites us into this shift every year during the High Holy Days. The practice of cheshbon hanefesh, soul-accounting, asks us to step outside of our automatic narratives, see ourselves with clarity, and imagine who we might yet become. That reflection leads to teshuva, the process of return and repair, reminding us that transformation is part of the cycle of Jewish life.
Psychologically, this is similar to cognitive restructuring: noticing where our thoughts are distorted by fear or pain and choosing to tell a more balanced story. Under prolonged stress, our minds overgeneralize and tilt toward the negative.
Instead, we pause and challenge our conclusions, remembering that two things can be true at once. The lesson of Sukkot is to embody that perspective shift and embrace the paradox.
We are coping with active trauma, living inside an ongoing threat without closure. Our nervous systems stay on high alert, scanning for danger. In these conditions, what matters most is not only physical safety but also validation and support: to be reminded that our fear is real, our pain is valid, and we are not alone. Resilience is not built in a single act of inspiration, but in small, steady steps repeated over time.
Here are some steps to take back your power, even though the heaviness of antisemitism feels overwhelming.
• Name the pain: The first step of healing is naming what happened. Say it out loud or write it down: This is real. This happened. Denial keeps us paralyzed; naming loosens its grip.
• Practice radical acceptance: Stop wrestling with what already is. Say to yourself: “This happened. I cannot change that, but I will choose how I respond.”
• Journal with intention: Ask yourself: “What pain am I carrying today? How does it connect to my Jewish identity or history? What small act of self-care can I take today?”
• Choose connection: Trauma isolates; connection repairs. Reach out to one person each day, with a text, a call, or a face-to-face meeting. Small acts of connection actively rebuild trust.
• Create stability rituals: Pick a daily anchor: morning reflection, a walk, or lighting candles. Consistency sends a message of safety to the nervous system.
• Name gratitude: Notice one moment of kindness, beauty, or connection each day. Gratitude activates the brain’s reward centers by releasing dopamine and serotonin, strengthens neural pathways that counter fear, and trains the mind to look for good even in dark times.
• Find your ground: Anxiety and stress pull us into the past or push us into the future, ruminating on what has happened or fearing what might come. Anchoring in the present with breathwork or mindfulness calms the nervous system and creates space for clear thinking.
• Unplug to replug: Take intentional breaks from news and noise, and reconnect with what matters most.
• Courage calls: Take one small action that is the opposite of what fear or betrayal told you to do. Each step is a quiet act of reclaiming your agency.
• Shift perspective: Ask yourself, what can this moment teach me? Where is there meaning I can act on? When we shift our perspective, we shift our power, turning pain into purpose is where strength begins.
Two years after Hamas’s terror attacks in Israel, our hearts are still heavy, but our tradition insists that brokenness and joy can live side by side.
Vulnerability does not erase strength. The sukkah will always remind us that even in fragile shelters, we are never alone. The key now is for us to lean into community and stay united as a people.
May this season renew our courage, deepen our unity, and remind us that Jewish resilience is the power to turn pain into purpose, and from that purpose, build a stronger and better future for the next generation.
The writer, a clinical social worker, is a trauma therapist licensed in New Jersey, New York, and Florida. She is also the founder of Kesher Shalom Projects, which focuses on Jewish resilience and psychologically informed education. www.malkashaw.com, www.keshershalom.com