As we mark Yom HaShoah, it is difficult to ignore the comparisons that have emerged over the past year and a half between the Holocaust and the Hamas massacre of October 7. The sheer hatred exhibited by the Hamas terrorists, the savage brutality of their assault, their indiscriminate torture and murder of men, women, the elderly, children, and even infants—along with their grotesque celebration of these acts—evoked haunting echoes of the darkest atrocities committed by the Nazis.
While there are chilling parallels between these two horrors, one critical distinction must be underscored: the scale. Without in any way minimizing the profound trauma, grief, and suffering caused by the murder of nearly 1,200 Israelis and the abduction of 251 others on that dreadful day, we must acknowledge that during the Holocaust, an average of nearly 3,000 Jews were murdered every single day for five and a half years. To put it starkly, the Holocaust was the equivalent of experiencing approximately 4,000 October 7s!
Why does this matter? Because acknowledging the enormity of that difference serves two vital purposes: It helps us grasp the staggering magnitude of the Holocaust, and it deepens our appreciation for the resilience of the Jewish people and the miraculous rebirth of Jewish sovereignty in the State of Israel.
October 7 was, without question, the most traumatic day in the history of the modern State of Israel. A year and a half later, and we are still reeling. The war continues. Fifty-nine hostages remain in captivity under horrific conditions. Countless reservists have spent months away from their families and livelihoods, and may soon be called upon once more. The government lacks a clear vision for the day after, and uncertainty clouds our national horizon.
And yet, let us pause to imagine enduring not just one such day—but thousands of them as in the Holocaust. How would we maintain hope in the face of such relentless despair? How would we summon the strength to carry on? Thus, the events of October 7 serve to deepen our understanding of the horrors of the Holocaust and help us comprehend what might otherwise seem incomprehensible.
Now let us imagine that having survived that inferno, we emerged from the ashes and found within ourselves the will and determination to fight for the establishment of a sovereign Jewish state after two millennia. Would we be as disheartened and disillusioned as we have been since October 7? Would we still be as divided as we are? Would we still be tired and weary from the fight to defeat our enemies so that we can have a safe and secure Jewish state for ourselves and for generations to come?
Thus, remembering the Holocaust after October 7 serves another purpose as well: it helps us gain perspective. It reminds us that the challenges we face today, grave though they are, pale in comparison and that our people have endured far worse and successfully risen from the depths.
May this Yom HaShoah be a day of profound mourning for the horrors of our past, a day of gratitude for the blessings of our present, and a call to action to shape a future worthy of both.
