I read an incredibly powerful piece by Chagi Luber, an actor, playwright, theater director, acting teacher, founder and artistic director of the Aspeklaria Theater and School of Acting. Chagi’s son, Yehonatan (z’l), was murdered in Gaza in December 2023, while battling terrorists. It was a beautiful piece, each sentence more powerful and impactful than the next. The title intimindated me, and I was hesitant to read it, but the more I read, the deeper I felt.

Today at Your Wife’s Wedding

And we will wash and dress up and wear that same festive garment.
And we will travel as we did then, the whole family, to the wedding.
And we will enter a familiar hall decorated with flowers.
And we will shake hands again with acquaintances and strangers,
And we will say, as people always do, “Mazal Tov” a hundred times.
And we will stand once more beside the bride’s chair.
And we will sing by heart that song of longing,
When her head, crowned with a white veil, will be wrapped once again in a veil.

And under the chuppah that melody will be played.
And the bride will circle that same circle.
And again ‘Behold, you are consecrated unto me.’
And a ring will be placed on her finger.

And the glass will be shattered, just like our hearts,
And together with our son under the wedding canopy,
We will play ‘If I forget thee, O Jerusalem.’

And everything is new and everything is as it was.
And great joy.
And Jerusalem is being built,
And with it a new family.
And there is a husband for the widow.
And a father for the orphans.
And rebirth for our nation.

And high, high above our tears
And above our torn heart,
You hover,
And smile a silent smile,
And whisper in a clear and pure voice,
“Mazal Tov to you, my wife.”

—–Chagi Luber

I have read this many times. The deepness of the words, of what it means, continues to effect me. We have lost so much. Wives, husbands, and children. Sons and daughters. We’ve lost our innocence. October 7th changed everything. For those living in Israel. For those of us in the diaspora.

The rise of antisemitism throughout the world is frightening. The murder of Yaron Lischinsky (z’l) and Sarah Milgrim (z’l) as they left a Jewish event in Washington, DC, shook us all to the core. How many Jewish events have each of us walked out of, not even thinking we were in danger. Those days are over. The belief that it could never happen in the United States is gone. Growing up in the 60s, 70s, and 80s, I felt safe. Since October 7, 2023, that is no longer the case. Each attack on Jews and Jewish spaces in the United States and around the world is a reminder that as a Jew, I am never safe. It’s a fallacy, a dream.

As a proud Jew, I wear my Magen David (Star of David) proudly. I have clearly Jewish tatoos that I don’t choose to hide – often wearing short sleeve shirts intentionally to make sure they are seen. My car has a ‘Florida Stands with Israel’ license plate.

Despite not feeling safe, I refuse to hide. We saw what hiding did during the Shoah. They find us anyway and we are powerless to do anything to protect ourselves. The answer isn’t to be less publicly Jewish, it’s to be more publicly Jewish. US Representative Randy Fine (R-FL) chose to start wearing a kippah after his son challenged him about living up to his public persona as ‘The Hebrew Hammer’. Like his politics or not, he chose to make a big public statement about being Jewish.

In 249 years, I am the first member of Congress to ever wear a Kippah on the House floor.

I’m not wearing it for myself.

I’m wearing it for the students who don’t feel safe on college campuses due to the rise in Muslim terror. pic.twitter.com/ydm7NCShoc

— Congressman Randy Fine (@RepFine) November 4, 2025

A friend of mine in Orlando, a physician, chose to wear a kippah after the loss of his son, to honor his memory. Every patient he sees, every nurse and doctor that he works with, every tech and orderly, every visitor to the hospital, all see a public Jew. That matters. We may have lost our innocence but we have gained more Jewish pride.

January 18, 2026 was Kfir Bibas’s 3rd birthday. Beautiful Kfir, a baby on October 7, 2023, was kidnapped by Hamas terrorists and then murdered, strangled, by those same terrorists. Less than a year old, he was convicted of the crime of being a living Jew and sentenced to death.

His father, former hostage Yarden Bibas, acknowledged this painful day on Instagram, writing, “I’m sorry for bringing you into such a cruel world,” he wrote. “You were forced to evacuate your home because of a round of fighting in Gaza just a few months after you were born. You managed to taste solid food, you started to crawl, you reached your brother’s fourth birthday. You didn’t reach your first birthday, so how can I acknowledge your third?” The pain and love is obvious in his words. He concluded by writing, “I’m sure that Mom, Ariel, and Tony are celebrating for you in the Garden of Eden. I’m sure that Mom is giving you the best and happiest birthday possible, just like she knows how to do. I love you the most in the world, always.”

Yarden’s words mirror the words of Chagi Luber. The love, the pain, the loss, and yet life must move on. As I read both their words, I felt the deep pain of loss. I felt the tears well in my eyes and a tear in my soul. When I think about those who deny that any of it happened, who justify the abhorrent actions of the Hamas terrorists, and who support those who kidnap and murder innocent children, I am filled with rage.

Rabbi Harold Kushner wrote, “Our souls are not hungry for fame, comfort, wealth or power…Our souls are hungry for meaning, for the sense that we have figured out how to live so that our lives matter, so that the world will be at least be a little bit different for our having passed through it.”   Post October 7th this is even more clear.  When I read the words of Chagi and Yarden, I think deeply about that search for meaning, that need to know what I do matters and that I make a difference.  Perhaps that is what we have all gained.  The recognition of just how important it is do things with meaning.

When people say or write that they can't believe what it is happening or that things are unbelievable, I find myself thinking of this quote by Rabbi Kushner.  It is because of us that things are happening the way they are.  It's because of us that these things are not unbelievable.  Our action, often times our inaction, is what causes this.  If we want to live a life of meaning, we have a responsibility to act.  We have a responsibiity to Chagi Luger and his entire family, to his son Yehonatan (z'l), to Yaron Lischinsky (z'l), Sarah Milgrim (z'l) and their families, to Yarden Bibas, to Kfir (z'l), Ariel (z'l), and Shiri (z'l) to live with meaning.  To change to world.  To do our best to make what happened to them never happen to anybody else again.  

My father died just over a year before October 7th.  I often think of the conversations we would be having now about the state of the world and our obligation and responsibility to make it better.  The things he would inspire me to do. While I can't hear his voice with my ears, I certainly hear his voice in my mind and in my soul.

We have lost so much.  We have gained responsibility.  Awareness.  Obligation.  What are you going to do about it?