October 25, 2025
Author(s): Rabbi Wes Gardenswartz,
Parshat Noach
Now, life.
October 25, 2025 – 3 Cheshvan 5786
Temple Emanuel, Newton, MA
Joy! How do we get back to joy?
There are plenty of times in our lives when joy is easy. We saw that this morning. When a beautiful daughter and granddaughter like Adeline Lake is born, joy is easy. When that beautiful baby grows into a radiant and wonderful teen like Robin whose Bat Mitzvah we celebrate today, joy is easy. When we dance at the wedding of a loved one who has found love, joy is easy. Joy is easy not only at these lifecycle moments. When we love to ski, and we are on the slopes on a perfect day, fresh powder, blue sky, bright sun, gorgeous conditions, joy is easy. When we love to bike, and we are on the road, and the wind is at our back, joy is easy.
But what about times when joy is not easy. For the Jewish people now, joy is not easy. For the State of Israel now, joy is not easy. This Monday will mark two weeks since the hostages came home. Now that the euphoria of their return has passed, what’s next?
For the last two years, we have largely lived in the land of oy. We need to pivot from oy to joy. We want to pivot from oy to joy. But how do we pivot from oy to joy when we still feel oy?
Exactly two weeks and four days ago, on October 7, 2025, a book came out that is destined to be part of the sacred canon of the Jewish people, a truly towering book. The book, by Eli Sharabi, is entitled Hostage. Sharabi was abducted from his home on October 7 and spent 491 days in Hamas captivity. What he endured for 491 days in Gaza is almost impossible to read. I cannot imagine how he endured it, let alone survived it. But he did. Through some combination of incredible strength of mind, body, and character–and mazal–he somehow emerged alive. During those 491 days, he clung to the belief that since his wife Lianne and daughters Noiya (16) and Yahel (13) were British citizens, Hamas would not kill them. Clinging to the belief that he would see them again gave him the motivation to hold on. He did not know if his brother Yossi had survived.
When he got out, and his family was not there to greet him, he learned the brutal truth that they had all been murdered. The last page of the book describes Eli Sharabi going to the graves of his wife and daughters:
I need to see it with my own eyes. I need to tell them I’m back. I promised them I’d come home, and here I am.
We reach the cemetery. Everyone gets out of the car.
I walk toward the graves by myself, with Osnat [his sister] by my side. The medical and welfare teams stay behind. We walk closer, Osnat slowly leading me, until eventually she points and says, “Here they are, Eli.”
I look at the three graves.
Lianne.
Noiya.
Yahel.
The peaceful fields around us glisten, a taut blue sky overhead. Birds chirp. I break down crying. I don’t even try to stop myself. Osnat hugs me. I fall to my knees. I can’t see anything. Everything’s blurry. The sky. The view. The other headstones. The people who came with me. Everything fades away.
Only Yahel, Noiya, and Lianne exist.
Forty minutes later, I tell Osnat, “OK, let’s go.”
She looks at me, puzzled. “It’s OK,” I tell her. “Let’s go.”
I signal to everyone. It’s over, finis. I pick myself up and start walking slowly toward the exit of the cemetery.
This here is rock bottom.
I’ve seen. I’ve touched it.
Now, life.
That’s how the book ends. Those imperishable words, in impossible circumstances, are the last words of this memoir: “Now, life.”
“Now, life.” As holy as any Haftarah. As sacred as Isaiah. As urgent as Elie Wiesel’s Night. His reality and our reality are so vastly different. What do we possibly do with these words? How do we possibly connect with these words?
We live here, not there. Israelis are on the front lines. We are not. They experience the unimaginable. We read about it. But his book came out in English on October 7 to teach us, to challenge us, to inspire us. So let’s do Eli Sharabi the honor of trying to apply his climactic words—“Now, life” to our lives.
Now. A single word with so many resonances. Now that I have suffered. Now that I have lost. Now that I have mourned. I am still here. I am here now. Now I need to honor my own now, that I am still here.
Comma. Why the comma in between now and life. Why Now, comma life? I think that comma is about taking a deep breath. That comma is talking ourselves into doing the work. When we are at Disneyland or on the slopes or biking on a perfect day, we don’t need the comma. But when we are talking ourselves into feeling joy that does not come easy, we do.
Life. How do we do the work that gets us to joy that gets us back to life?
Now, life. After all you have been through, after all you have lost, after all the ups and downs, and yet you are still here, how do you internalize those words, “Now, life.” Let me invite you to marinate on how these words connect with your life.
And I want to offer you three moves. They happen to also be three mitzvot. Do the work. Get to joy.
First, I want to talk specifically to our school-aged children. This is so simple. So available. It works so well. And the timing is so right. Go to Jewish summer camp. If you already attend Jewish summer camp, great. You know how magical and moving it is. If you have not yet attended Jewish summer camp, now, late October, early November, is the perfect time to explore any of the many wonderful Jewish summer camps in our area. They will all get you to joy.
A 14-year old girl named Rachel writes this about her experience at one of our Jewish summer camps in New England:
I felt like I belonged in a way I never had before.
My favorite part was Shabbat. Everyone wore white, we sang together under the stars, and it felt like the whole camp was glowing. I remember thinking, ‘This is what it means to feel holy.’ I cried when I left. I didn’t want to go home. I made friends I still talk to every day, and I learned that being Jewish isn’t just about rules—it’s about joy, community, and meaning. I’m already counting the days until I go back.”
One beautiful response to the oy of these past two years is the joy of inspiring our children with a love of being Jewish. Jewish summer camp does that spectacularly well.
Here is the second move. Do it, and you will get to joy. In this new year, take up our Shabbat experience so that it puts us in deeper touch with our deepest values. The writer Anita Diament wrote about a kiss that she shares every Friday night with her husband Jim.
Every Friday night, I kiss my husband. No matter how tired we are. No matter what dreadful things we said to each other earlier in the day. No matter what. The kiss is neither perfunctory nor passionate. And yet, even when there are six other people in the room, it is intimate.
All week long, a kiss is just a kiss. But our Friday-night kiss is something else…
This is a ritual kiss. It takes place in the dining room, immediately after we light two new, white candles and sing the blessing that marks the beginning of Shabbat, the Jewish Sabbath. Candles and kiss are followed by blessings over wine and bread.
What would your version of this kiss look like? As a spiritual goal for this new year, how about tapping more deeply into the magic of Shabbat so that it can bring us more peace, love and joy.
Here is the third move. Do it, and you will get to joy. Go to Israel. We just had an Aliyah to celebrate the fact that about 70 Temple Emanuel members are going to Israel this week on a JNF mission to do service to repair parts of Israel damaged in the war. The timing is perfect now to think about joining our Hartman mission to Israel in late June. So many of us were ready to go last June but could not because of the war. This year, please God, we will be in Israel, and we would love it if you could join us. There is so much joy. The joy of learning. The joy of being in Jerusalem. The joy of meeting Israelis of all kinds and hearing their stories. The joy of Shabbat in Israel. The joy of community. Plus, it’s not only about our joy. We all know how important it is when people show up for us. Here is our chance to show up for Israel and Israelis at a historic time of change and hope, at a historic time of rebuilding and renewal.
Joy! How do we get back to joy?
Sometimes joy is easy. Other times joy takes work. When it does, Eli Sharabi tells us what to do.
Now, life.