I’m almost afraid to write about the trauma of October 7 and its aftermath.

In the distorted narrative that has emerged over these three years, Jews have found themselves portrayed as criminals. Baby killers. Supporters of a corrupt, genocidal nation. Targets of vicious attacks.

Strip away the political slogans, and it remains what it has always been: antisemitism.

But today’s date is one that I cannot ignore. On the Hebrew calendar it is the 25th of Av. The day six young people were murdered.

Hersh Goldberg-Polin, Carmel Gat, Eden Yerushalmi, Alexander Lobanov, Almog Sarusi, and Ori Danino survived 11 months of captivity in a tunnel under Gaza before they were murdered by Hamas.

Like so many others, they were brutally kidnapped from a peaceful music festival on a Jewish holiday. They died underground. They never saw the sun again.

On the anniversary of a death, we light a tiny candle. It is meant to help their soul rise to merge with the Divine. And it helps the living light the way forward.

Rabbi Steven Abraham wrote movingly this morning about the candles we Jews light, beginning with a meditation on the Ner Tamid, the eternal light that hangs at the front of every synagogue:

“The Ner Tamid does not eliminate every shadow from the sanctuary. The Hanukkah lights do not end the winter night. The Shabbat candles do not erase the suffering of the week. A yahrzeit (memorial) candle cannot restore the dead. Its purpose is not to conquer darkness. Its purpose is to testify that darkness is not absolute.”

Darkness is not absolute. The candles we light do more than push back the dark. They express our determination that darkness will never swallow us.

We cannot allow hatred to define us. We define ourselves by the richness of Jewish life.

That, I believe, is how the Jewish people have survived for thousands of years. Not because our enemies disappeared—they never did—but because we refused to become merely victims.

We kept building communities. We kept raising children. We kept asking difficult questions, creating beauty, arguing with God, studying Torah, comforting mourners, feeding the hungry, and blessing one another.

This is our answer to hatred. Not simply to fight antisemitism, but to outlive it. To outcreate it. To outlove it.

Hersh Goldberg-Polin’s parents, Jon and Rachel, will speak in Sarasota on November 17, thanks to a new group called The SIX Srq. I’ve donated to help them bring the couple here, because their voices are important.

Like Rachel Goldberg-Polin, I believe that memory alone is not enough. We must carry their light forward, pushing back darkness and hatred, while helping to create a future where healing remains possible.

May the souls of Hersh, Carmel, Eden, Alexander, Almog, and Ori be bound up in the bond of eternal life.

May their memories be a blessing. May their light continue to shine.

PS someone else got the date wrong, and I didn’t fact check them. The 25th of Av will begin at sunset on Friday, August 7.