On the morning of Aug. 31, 2025, I found myself standing on the Temple Mount (Har Habayit) in Jerusalem. That night, I would be standing under the chuppah at my wedding, smashing a glass to remember the destruction of our holiest place. That glass is supposed to symbolize brokenness.
But here’s the thing I’ve learned in the two-plus years since the tragedy that took my wife and two young daughters: commemorating brokenness is never enough.
Because life is like walking up a down escalator. The moment you stop moving, you start sliding downward. Standing still is not an option—not for me, not for Israel and not for the Jewish people.
For me, rehabilitation has meant three things: a dream, an action, and a recovery. My personal recovery began a year ago when I started dating again and the action comes later today when I marry my beautiful bride, Aliza. But my dream—my dream is bigger than myself, bigger than my children. It’s about the Jewish people, the State of Israel, the ongoing war and the hostages still held in Gaza.
This is the paradox we are living through: this war won’t be won by more attacks on Gaza, though they may be justified. It won’t be won by negotiating with terrorists, which is unjustified.
And it certainly won’t be won by chanting “Bring them Home” on the streets of Europe, America or Israel. It will end only when we do the one thing we’ve avoided for the past 60 years: reassert Jewish sovereignty over our holiest site—the Temple Mount.
Think about it. For two millennia, Jews have prayed to return to Jerusalem and in our liturgy, that phrase overwhelmingly means one thing: The Temple Mount. Our prophets said that the Temple would be rebuilt, while Christians and Muslims believe their Messiah will only come when that happens. The only ones who seem to doubt the prophets are the Jews themselves.
History has a funny way of nudging us. When Jews don’t act, God creates conditions where we have no choice. When we are divided, our enemies attack, forcing us to unite. When we ignore the Temple Mount, God allows Hamas to brand their war “The Al Aqsa Flood”—a reminder of what we should really be fighting for.
When we fail to free our holiest hostage—the Temple Mount—God prevents us from freeing our flesh-and-blood hostages.
So yes, I climbed up to Temple Mount with a dream: that it would soon be ours once more. Because the day we take it back, the day we free our oldest hostage, that’s the day we’ll also free all the others.
In the words of King David in Shir Hama’alot, “We will be like dreamers.”
Among my prayers today is the hope that our leaders will soon choose this option—for the sake of Israel, for the sake of our people and for the speedy return of our hostages.
