Israel between tragedy and hope. Testimony about war and hostages

Major (Res.) Moshe Pri-Gan, an Israeli medical officer, shared with Q Magazine his experience of October 7, 2023—the day of the bloody massacre committed by Hamas terrorists against an Israeli community. He spoke about the days of war that followed, and the eventual return of hostages held captive for years. He shows how tragedy can become a driving force for spiritual, moral, and national rebirth. Can the world learn from Israel’s tragedy and renewal?

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There are moments in history when time ceases to flow naturally. It contracts and expands, shatters, then surges forward. Two hours can feel like a year, while a year can dissolve into a single instant. Since October 7, 2023, every Israeli soldier—especially those who lived the war through body and soul—has existed in this altered dimension of time. For a medical officer, this period revealed rare depths of suffering, solidarity, and responsibility, and above all, the possibility of transforming a national tragedy into a launchpad for spiritual and moral renewal, and into an alliance with nations of Europe and the world in the fight against evil.

Simhat Torah – A Festival of Joy Torn Apart

To understand the earthquake of October 7, one must know what Simhat Torah means. It marks the end of the autumn holidays, when the reading of the Torah is completed and immediately begun again. It is a joyful, warm celebration where the community dances with Torah scrolls in their arms. A day when differences dissolve, leaving only pure joy: us and the Torah, together.

That night, we danced with the holy scrolls in the synagogue. By morning, instead of songs, I awoke to the explosion of two rockets landing just hundreds of meters from my home, in the middle of a civilian neighborhood. In seconds, the world of joy was shattered. I opened my phone—a rare act on such a day—and saw the first footage: terrorists running through the streets of Sderot, shooting at passersby. I understood immediately: this was not an incident. It was war.

Collapse and Responsibility

In the hours that followed, I saw with my own eyes a civil society that panicked, faltered, fractured—and then reorganized with astonishing speed. Ordinary people drove under fire to rescue the wounded; volunteer paramedics entered combat zones; others spontaneously created aid centers for hospitals, families of the kidnapped, and evacuated children. Out of panic was born a profound civic responsibility. The lesson is clear: do not wait for someone else to bring order to chaos. Be the one to bring order to the part of the world entrusted to you.

For me, as a religious man, October 7 was not just a date. It was Simhat Torah. At night I danced with the Torah. In the morning, I woke up in hell. Explosions near my home. Sirens. Phones ringing. In a single moment, sanctity turned to horror. Together with comrades, I rushed to the fire zones. In the hours and days that followed, I treated people from all communities of Israel: Jews and Arabs, civilians and soldiers, young and old.

One moment shook me deeply: an Arab woman, the age of my mother, wearing a hijab, flown in by helicopter from a kibbutz field. Her body was crushed with multiple fractures.

Then I understood: I was not fighting for a house, nor in a religious war. I was fighting for the borders of humanity, against barbarism.

The Battlefield as a Profoundly Human Space

In the first weeks, I entered burned houses, bombed bunkers, places under constant fire. Yet in the midst of this devastation, I discovered something not written in any manual: humanity does not vanish in war. It becomes a tool for moral survival.

I met soldiers who begged us to treat their friends first, wounded men who insisted that those left behind be rescued before them, mothers who gave up their own treatment so that resources could go to their children. There I understood: the human heart can shine even in the shadow of death.

From the front, we directed all our energy toward the sacred mission of repatriating hostages. It was a different kind of mission—a painful blend of logistics, psychology, and spirituality. I saw innocence torn apart, bodies devastated, eyes emptied. But I also witnessed the miracle: the moment when someone cut off from the world returns to life, to family, to light.

This is the essence of medicine: not only to save a life, but to restore it to the human being.

Trauma, Post-Trauma, and the Jewish Path of Turning Ashes into Light

In this case, trauma is both personal and collective. Soldiers wake from terrifying nightmares. Families fall asleep with uncertainty clinging to their walls. Children have witnessed what cannot be explained.

Yet the Jewish story has a profound axis: the State of Israel rose from the ashes of the Holocaust, built by people who transformed pain into rebirth, loss into construction, despair into hope. They built hospitals, universities, democratic armies, modern cities, culture, and an economy—not in spite of trauma, but from its very energy.

We must do the same: heal the wounded in body and soul, invest in psychological resilience, educate for the recognition and acceptance of trauma, and refuse to let it define our identity.

Trauma will accompany us for years. But from it, we can build generations of moral and spiritual strength.

An Opportunity for Spiritual and Identity Growth

War is terrifying. Yet history shows that even from the deepest darkness, a gate of light can open. The fact that doctors stand at the very center of the struggle reminds us that the purpose of a nation is not only to defeat an enemy, but to affirm the sanctity of life.

From the experience of this period, four pillars can emerge:

• Identity – The encounter between ultra-Orthodox, secular, immigrants, Druze, Israeli Arabs, and soldiers from all backgrounds shapes a new social contract.
• Moral Responsibility – In the midst of barbarity, preserving dignity becomes an act of resistance.
• Spiritual Dimension – Prayer in the trenches, a whispered verse in crisis, a medical miracle—all become the living fabric of existence.
• Psychological Depth – Resilience, discipline, and solidarity serve as resources to strengthen society.

A New Alliance Between Israel and Europe

This is not only a fight against evil—it is also the building of peace. The war in Gaza is not a local conflict; it is part of a global struggle against criminal ideologies.

Europe knows the cost of indifference to evil. Evil does not respect borders. Here lies the opportunity for an alliance among nations that believe in life, freedom, science, medicine, education, and human dignity.

Romania and Israel share decades of solidarity. The exchange of medical expertise, cooperation in trauma care, civil protection, and psychological assistance can become real bridges between our societies.

Israel can serve as a model for Europe: showing how to preserve the nation-state without abandoning values. In a world where barbaric ideologies seek to infiltrate democratic spaces, Israel demonstrates that a nation-state can be strong, democratic, morally committed, and still uphold freedoms.

Israel shows Europe that it is possible to protect borders without xenophobia, to defend identity without hatred, to fight political barbarism without losing moral integrity, and to be both Jewish and democratic at the same time.

This is not only a message for Israel. It is a lesson in civilization.

Hope Does Not Disappear

Despite death, despite kidnappings, despite fear—hope endures. Because soldiers continue to save one another. Because hostages return home. Because in the midst of war, we rediscover that life is worth defending.

When a medical officer returns home after months of battle, he carries two boxes: the box of pain and the box of hope. The first he cannot put down; the second he must never abandon.

Suppose we learn to transform memory into a foundation for renewal, and trauma into moral strength. In that case, if we build alliances with nations that understand there is no neutrality in the face of evil—we can open a new era.

An era in which Israel does not merely defend itself, but inspires the world: showing how to turn pain into courage, rupture into hope, and war into an alliance of people determined to build a future of life.

Major (Res.) Moshe Pri-Gan is deputy commander of a medical battalion in the IDF reserves. In civilian life, he directs a network of ultra-Orthodox yeshivas that combine rabbinical training with studies in engineering and sciences, as well as preparatory programs for military service. During the Gaza war, he served as a medical officer, witnessed the atrocities of October 7, 2023, and participated in the repatriation of foreign hostages, victims killed in Palestinian territories, mothers and children, survivors of the Nova festival, and soldiers kidnapped and tortured in Gaza.