I wear two timepieces. The timepiece on my left wrist displays the local time, while the one on my right wrist previously showed Israel time, eight hours ahead. Presently, it is set to Jewish time, frozen at 6:30 a.m., the precise moment when Hamas invaded our land on Oct. 7, 150 days ago.
The watch on my right wrist is rather conventional, featuring a gleaming metal casing and a white dial. Instead of regular numerals, Hebrew letters mark the hour increments, starting from “aleph” for one, “bet” for two, and so forth.
Adjacent to the date dial on the right side are three Hebrew words: “Yevarechecha Hashem Veyishmerecha,” which translates to “May G-d watch over you and guard you,” constituting the initial line of the Priestly Blessing, a prayer for the welfare of the Jewish community.
Purchased during my Birthright journey to Israel last May, this watch symbolizes my bond with my family, my heritage, and the historical legacy of my people. Originally set to Israel time, a quick glance at my right wrist instantly connected me with my five cousins, aunt, and uncle in Beit Shemesh, located 45 minutes west of Jerusalem.
Initially, the significance of the Priestly Blessing did not resonate with me. I did not perceive a pressing need for protection.
Everything changed on Oct. 7, 150 days ago.
Innocent Jewish individuals and other inhabitants of Israel were ruthlessly murdered by Hamas terrorists. Deliberately targeting civilian structures, including the peaceful communal settlements known as “kibbutzim,” Hamas carried out heinous attacks. For instance, Kibbutz Re’im, which previously hosted a peace-promoting music festival, fell victim to an assault resulting in numerous casualties. Notably, Re’im does not harbor any active-duty soldiers, as shared by a survivor from Washington University.
Furthermore, individuals were abducted by Hamas, with more than half of them still held captive 150 days later. Among them is a one-year-old child, who has now spent over a third of his life in captivity.
On Oct. 7, time stood still for the Jewish people.
In November, my watch also ceased to function. Whether due to a battery or mechanical malfunction remains unclear. Interestingly, the second hand persistently attempts to move forward, always halting at the 58-second mark before reverting back.
Nevertheless, I continue to wear my watch. I have adjusted the time to 6:30 a.m. and set the date dial to the seventh of the month. The second hand perpetually endeavors to progress, yet it repeatedly falters.
The watch now holds a different significance—it serves as a poignant reminder that time halted for my people on Oct. 7 and has yet to resume.
Therefore, on this day, marking 150 days since the deadliest tragedy for the Jewish community, I urge you to spare a few moments to commemorate the 1,200 innocent souls we lost and the numerous individuals still held captive in Gaza.
To those enduring captivity, I carry you in my thoughts each time I glance at the inscription on my watch: “Yevarechecha Hashem Veyishmerecha.” May G-d watch over you and guard you.