Washington DC, Nov. 11, 2024
Dear sisters and brothers, as we come together in Washington, D.C., the capital of our greatest ally and friend, 101 Israeli women, children and men are still missing. They have been at the mercy of Hamas terrorists for over 400 days.
With us here today are the families of Yair & Eitan Horn, Arbel Yehud, Oded Lifshitz, Romi Gonen, Keith Sigel, Sagui Dekel Hen, Omer Nauta, Itay Chen, Edan Alexander. Their loved ones—our loved ones—have been held hostage for over a year.
Like you, I pray for them daily, I cling to every update, and I fear for their safety. There is no mitzvah greater than redeeming captives—Pidyon Shvuyim.
It is our moral directive and urgent necessity to take action. I call on you, American Jewish leaders, to join us in fighting to bring them home.
We must fight with every fiber of our being, using every tool at our disposal to bring them back immediately—every single one. We will not stop because we are all incomplete without them.
I salute our IDF soldiers who left their families to heroically fight a war on seven different fronts, to fight on our behalf—and on your behalf. May God bless them and keep them, may they all return to us safe and sound, and may our wounded recover swiftly and completely, in body and mind.
Dear friends, I will start at the end: There is hope. “Our hope is not lost.” But a year ago, hope seemed to be slipping away. On the evening of last year’s Simchat Torah—Oct. 6, 2023, many of us danced and rejoiced with the Torah scrolls that have infused our lives with meaning. The next morning, Oct. 7, we were awakened by sirens and cries for help. The world we knew had shattered.
The sheer horror and devastation of Oct. 7 challenged realities we trusted and raised questions we never imagined our generation would face. In essence, the people of Israel were faced with a choice, and I have come here to speak about how Am Yisrael chose life. I would like to share with you some of what I saw and experienced over the past year.
Virtually every single day since Oct. 7 of last year, my wife Michal and I met with bereaved families, families of hostages, survivors and evacuees. We met with Nova [festival massacre] survivors—many with PTSD, and with children left without family and without a home. We paid respects to hundreds of mourners in Jewish, Muslim, Druze and Christian homes. We met with young women and little children who returned from captivity in Gaza.
We saw people who lost almost everything a human being can lose—family, love, freedom, dignity, security, livelihood, shelter. We met with tens of thousands of Israelis who went through hell—and continued hoping tomorrow will be better.
One of the defining moments I experienced this past year, a moment I will carry with me as long as I live, was standing at the bedside of IDF Captain Roi Nahari, a 23-year-old Paratroopers platoon commander lying in Soroka Hospital, surrounded by his family. On Oct. 7, Roi dashed southward without hesitation, together with his team. They saved countless lives in a courageous battle in Kibbutz Kfar Aza, until Roi was fatally wounded.
As their son took his final breaths, Roi’s parents asked Michal and me to come into the hospital room, to be with their family in their most sacred, intimate moment; their moment of parting from their beloved Roi. We saw a mother and a father, Iris and Ronen, standing heartbroken—yet upright. We saw siblings lifting their eyes in tears—and pride. We saw Roi’s twin brother, Bar, also an officer in the Paratroopers, lying on him, holding him, weeping uncontrollably, unwilling to part.
I will never, ever forget saying goodbye to a hero I didn’t know. By honoring the values for which Roi died, his family chose to salute the meaningful life he lived. I said to Roi’s family what I would later repeat to the nearly 1,000 bereaved families I would meet throughout the year: I cannot change the terrible fate. I can only look into the eyes of a devastated family and say thank you, on behalf of the people of Israel.
Last month, Michal and I traveled to nearly every community attacked by Hamas on Oct. 7, beginning at 6:29 a.m. at the Nova festival site. At every stop of the three-day journey of remembrance and reflection, we lit a yahrzeit candle, laid a wreath and prayed for the hostages’ return.
In each of these encounters, with warriors on the front lines and warriors on the home front, we were welcomed with broken hearts—and the mighty spirit of Israel. We saw communities literally rise from the ashes and begin to rebuild. This is where it dawned on me that what makes us the eternal people—Am HaNetzach—is our insistence on choosing life.
Dear friends, the American Jewish community also made a choice. You chose to mobilize for Israel like a family—no questions asked. You chose to come to Israel to pay shiva calls, to provide assistance, to volunteer. You chose to demonstrate solidarity, to bear witness, to fight. You chose to show up for us when we needed you the most. The warmth and the affection expressed by world Jewry gave Israelis a lifeline and motivation to persevere. This was our finest hour—and your finest hour.
I commend the JFNA for the launch of your new campaign. Over recent weeks, the needs in Israel have expanded, spreading from south to north. The challenges are tremendous and demand will be substantial. This past year I worked closely with the JFNA leadership, with chairperson Julie Platt, with JFNA President Eric Fingerhut, with head of the Israel Office Becky Caspi. I value the trust and the friendship we share, and I thank you for leading this magnificent operation.
As president of the State of Israel, I take this opportunity to congratulate President-elect Donald Trump, a champion of peace and cooperation in our region. I wish him every success in realizing his vision of not starting wars—but stopping wars, and leading the world towards a future of security and prosperity.
I wish also to express gratitude and admiration towards the 46th President of the United States, Joe Biden, for his lifetime of love for Israel and devotion to the Jewish people. Thank you, Vice President Harris, for your solid friendship and partnership.
There is more that can, and must, be accomplished over the coming weeks. First and foremost: the return of every single one of our hostages. We will continue raising our voices and demand the release of our sisters and brothers in captivity. We need them home now.
Dear friends, the global Jewish community faces serious challenges, which demand broad solutions. As we speak, Iran is building nuclear capabilities, and this past year we all saw the direct threat Iran poses to the State of Israel, both directly and through its numerous proxies. Israel will continue standing up to the Iranian regime—and, please God, we will triumph.
Israelis have been following with great concern the startling wave of antisemitism, both systemic and instigated, flooding the United States and the Jewish world. We see how the hatred targeting American Jewish neighborhoods, workspaces and campuses, is widespread more than ever before. We see what you are going through, and our hearts ache.
The wellbeing of Jews in the United States and across the globe is intrinsic to who I am as a Jew, as an Israeli, as president. I am deeply invested in reinforcing your sense of security and personal safety, as individuals and as communities.
I applaud all of you for being at the forefront of this struggle, for working with Jewish leaders and organizations all over the world to protect and defend our Jewish schools, synagogues and homes. We are choosing to live as proud Jews. We are choosing life!
A number of months ago, I launched my initiative “Voice of the People,” a global Jewish taskforce offering practical solutions for the matters most concerning the Jewish people. This will better inform us on how to continue showing up for each other. Join us—come sound your voice!
Oct. 7 was a defining moment in Jewish history, not only because of the massive devastation, but because it reminded Jews that we need each other—and that we have each other. We have seen over the past year how much strength we can summon and how much comfort we draw from coming together as one people. Because the only way to navigate the challenges our people are facing—is to face them together, as a people.
The countless examples of pure courage and sacrifice that I was fortunate to witness taught me that we are an eternal people not because we are survivors, but because we are fighters: We fight for our people, we fight for our Jewish values, we fight for our Jewish souls, we fight for our Jewish communities, we fight for our Jewish, democratic state, we fight for the future of our children.
We are eternal because of the choices we make—because we choose life and because we choose each other. Right now, we can choose not to be defined by the tragedy that struck us, but to define ourselves by the strength with which we rise from the ashes. If we cry together, rally together, mourn together—we can also choose to rebuild together.
We are all stakeholders in the Jewish future, and the choice is ours. Choosing life is hard; it means facing the pain every day. But Am Yisrael Chai—the people of Israel live—is not a birthright, nor a privilege. It is a duty, and it is a choice. Let’s choose to rebuild our eternity together. There is hope. Our hope is not lost!
Thank you.