I said Tehilim the entire day on October 7, and yesterday on Purim I sang and danced. Why? I asked myself.

Families in Israel must constantly escape to their safe rooms, the MAAMAD, or to the staircase. At any hour of the day or night they must be ready to gather their children. Babies, toddlers, all of them must be lifted from their beds and rushed to safety. Then, when the siren ends, they carry them back again, often to rooms where sleep has already been broken.

Can they safely do anything?

Shopping can be interrupted at any moment. Any simple action can suddenly stop. There is no kindergarten. No school.

How does a mother with several young children cope with such a reality?

What effect does the piercing sound of the siren have on the minds of children and adults?

And yet, I see the unbelievable pictures.

Families dancing and singing in the MAAMAD. Weddings organized in bomb shelters. The Megillah being read underground. Mishloach Manot distributed below the surface.

And a one year old baby taking her first steps on the cement floor of the shelter while everyone around her cheers.

Then I think back to October 7.

For days we were completely in the dark. We sensed that something terrible had happened in Gaza, but the full picture was revealed only weeks later. When it finally became clear, we were devastated. We mourned the loss of hundreds of our brothers and sisters.

The knot in my stomach did not loosen for a long time.

The Israeli army fought for months against vicious enemies. With tremendous sacrifice they succeeded, but the price was very high. During those long months, dancing and singing felt almost impossible.

But now this war feels different.

From the beginning, we understand what is at stake. We have a clear goal.

To destroy the radical Islamist Iranian threat that has loomed over Israel and the world for so many years.

My stomach still tightens when I hear of innocent lives lost. I felt it deeply when I heard about the murder of three beautiful children and others who were attacked in acts of cruelty against civilians.

And yet, today I feel something new.

Because the Jewish people have always known how to do two things at once. We cry and we sing. We mourn and we rebuild. We whisper Tehilim with trembling lips, and when Purim arrives, we dance.

Perhaps this has always been our strength. Our enemies try to silence us with fear, but they never understood the Jewish heart.

Even under the sirens, the Jewish song does not fall silent. It rises.

© The Times of Israel (Blogs)