I could have watched the national ceremony commemorating the third anniversary of October 7 at home, but something in me felt the need to attend the ceremony, especially this year, which felt heavier after the last two years were focused on returning the hostages. So I walked with my mom to the park, grateful there were no security limits because of a possible missile attack, something we don't take for granted. The ceremony followed the format of "Songs in the Square" and other memorial ceremonies, featuring solemn segments on lost lives followed by a song, which was often related to the segment, giving time to reflect on what we heard. This felt especially strong when we saw a segment showing the stories of Haim Ben Aryeh, a school bus driver from Karmei Katif, and Abed Al-Karim Al-Nasasra, who worked alongside his father and brother as a shuttle driver in the Bedouin town of Kuseife. Both received urgent requests to help evacuate civilians on October 7th. Neither hesitated, and they got into their vehicles. Partygoers whom Abed drove to the Nova festival the night before called Abed for help, and he said to his wife: "I know it's dangerous, but I need to help these people." Abed had already brought one group home and gone back for another group when he was shot by Hamas terrorists on his way. Haim received a call to evacuate children and people with disabilities from Kibbutz Be'eri after the massacre there and told his wife, "If they need me, I'm going". Haim was deeply traumatized by the sights of the shocked children and the smell of fire and blood. He told his wife that what really broke him on the drive to the Dead Sea was the complete silence; no one cried. The sights and smells didn't leave him, and a few weeks later he took his own life in the bus he loved so much.
It was very moving to see Valerie Hamaty sing this Ofra Haza cover together with Ran Danker after hearing the tragic stories of Abed and Haim and seeing their families in the audience. Right afterwards, Omri Shifroni, one of the founders of the Kumu movement that organized the ceremony, gave a speech:
October 6th, 2023 - Kibbutz Be'eri's community celebration. A peaceful Friday evening on the Kibbutz; everyone gathered in the community hall, singing songs from the past - songs of a different life. Nothing hinted that the glass of wine in hand would be the last of life, as we knew it. The morning of October 7th: the house is shaking. We run to the safe room while the rapid-response team rushes to fight. Eleven members. Six weapons. Hundreds of terrorists. At first, we didn't grasp the magnitude of the disaster. But at 6:29 a.m., our lives were turned upside down. We hid children in closets to shield them from the murderers in our living rooms. We defended our families with bare hands, with almost no means to fight back. And for you - Liel and Yanai, pure and beloved children - there was no protection. Even Aunt Ilus, who had embraced you and shielded you like a mother, could not save you from that hell. I will never forget the broken voice of Abuya - your grandfather, who was also a father figure and a friend to you. The knowledge that he couldn't reach you was just as lethal as the bullets that pierced the safe room door - and the armor of my all-powerful, strong, and good uncle.
My beloved family, you should not have been murdered. None of you. You were all alone. Defenseless... and I, too, was unable to help. Your story touched the heart of an entire nation. Liel, your final words have stayed with us. You asked for nothing grand. You simply wanted to go back to school. To the ordinary life of a girl your age. But you were already trapped in a hell of fire, smoke, and fear.
That morning, the systems collapsed; the state failed to function. During those long hours in the safe room, the trust that served as our anchor shattered into pieces. But there was something else, too: Fighters pushed forward, broke through, and finally arrived. Civilians stepped up wholeheartedly, and we felt the full force of Israeli mutual solidarity. Those drops of kindness turned into a massive wave that gave us the strength to believe in this place again. But mutual solidarity alone is not enough. To rebuild trust, we also need the truth. We must know what happened. Without investigating the truth, we cannot heal. And we cannot ensure it never happens again. This must not become a political argument. It is a moral obligation. An obligation rooted in our values. And a security imperative. For three years, the people of Israel have carried the weight of fear, brokenness, and pain - and one relentless question: How did this happen to us? We will not give up on finding the answer. This is our test! And we can grow from this test, too. But only if we look the truth in the eye. Only if we learn, and only if we make things right. And amidst all this brokenness, we also witnessed the most beautiful part of who we are. Strangers became family. People opened their homes, carried out rescues, reported for reserve duty, and volunteered at hotels, donated, cooked, and gathered supplies. We held each other up while everything around us shook. We must not lose it.
Beloved family, you left us a clear legacy: Ilus - we will keep your kindness alive in the world. Abuya - like you, we will respect every person. Yanai and Liel - your deaths will not be in vain; in your names, we will build a worthy society here. The community festival will never look the same again, and we, too, will never be who we once were. But we can choose to be better and more worthy. From here, we rise. From here, we mend. From here, we rebuild.
I have returned to your embrace and in your embrace I'll know
How to unwind in song in the evening hours
Forever... forever...
From the YouTube description: The song 'Precious Soul' is dedicated to Yam Glass, Z"L, an IDF field observer who loved our music and was murdered on October 7th.
The audience singing along with us here was recorded at two shows, at the Barby and the Yellow Submarine. Thank you to everyone in the audience with us, who always give above and beyond.
We keep trying to hold on to the belief that it is possible to touch the feeling that something in us continues forever, between us and those who are no longer with us, and to keep going.
Yam grew up in Modi'in. She was a beloved daughter to her parents and a devoted sister to her two brothers. She was a cheerful, pleasant, responsible, and high-achieving girl. She attended Nitzanim Elementary School, where she was an outstanding, diligent, and ambitious student. She continued her education at the Yitzhak Rabin Ironi Bet Middle School, and due to her impressive achievements in STEM subjects, she was placed in the "Amat" class - a specialized scientific-technological track.
In 2016, at the age of thirteen, she moved with her family to the Netherlands for her father's job, settling in the city of Almere. She attended an international school there, formed close friendships with students from around the world, traveled extensively, and gained a wealth of experiences.
Yam was gifted with many talents and succeeded in everything she did. Her personality combined an interest in science with a passion for various forms of artistic creativity, ranging from painting to crafts like knitting - activities she pursued in her free time. She loved music deeply, played the drums, and was a member of a band. Additionally, she taught herself how to build, program, and design websites.
Upon completing high school in 2021, the family returned to Israel to enable Yam and her older brother to enlist in the military.
On March 21, 2022, Yam enlisted in the IDF and served in the Border Defense Corps. She completed a Visual Intelligence Analyst course at the Border Defense School at Base "Magen Sayarim" in the Southern Negev and aspired to serve in the Gaza sector, an area considered both interesting and challenging. She was stationed at Re'im Base, home to the Gaza Division headquarters, and served in the "Nesher" 414 Battalion, a unit operating under the Border Defense Corps' Combat Intelligence Array.
After a year in the role and upon the recommendation of her commanders, she attended a command course. Subsequently, she was assigned as a commander of field observers at the Nachal Oz outpost. This outpost was considered a frontline, highly operational position within the sector, and Yam was proud to have been selected to serve there. She was an admired commander who was attentive to her soldiers, caring deeply for them. They wrote: "Her smile and humility were unique to her. We will forever remember her, her gaze and her kind eyes."
Throughout her service, she was responsible for the safety of the sector's troops and the residents of the Gaza Envelope, raising the alarm whenever she detected threats along the security fence. Throughout her service, she was present at numerous security incidents and military operations, including Operation "Breaking Dawn" (August 5-7, 2022) and Operation "Shield and Arrow" (May 9-13, 2023) - both directed against the Palestinian Islamic Jihad terrorist organization in the Gaza Strip. She was fully aware of the importance of her role to national security and showed no fear about being stationed near the border. She performed her duties with dedication, responsibility, professionalism, and composure.
During her military service, she met Alon, her partner, with whom she shared a love for music.
Yam had many plans and dreams for the future. Her discharge from mandatory service was scheduled for March 2024, following a two-year term. She planned to fly to the Netherlands and continue on to Japan for a trip with childhood friends. She had already purchased flight tickets to both destinations for that month. Additionally, she dreamed of traveling to New York with her mother and intended to study computer engineering at university and pursue a career in the field. However, these aspirations were never realized.
On Saturday, the 22nd of Tishrei - Simchat Torah 5784 (October 7, 2023) at 6:30 a.m., the terrorist organization Hamas launched a surprise attack on Israel. Under the cover of a massive barrage of missiles and rockets fired from the Gaza Strip at vast areas of the country, thousands of terrorists infiltrated via land, sea, and air. They launched a murderous assault on the communities surrounding the Gaza Strip as well as the towns of Sderot, Ofakim, and Netivot, targeting outdoor party-goers near Kibbutz Re'im and Kibbutz Nirim, IDF bases, and travelers on local roads. The terrorists abducted hundreds of Israelis to the Gaza Strip and destroyed, looted, and set fires to homes and property. Hundreds of soldiers, police officers, security personnel, and members of local rapid-response teams fell in battle. That morning, a war began.
That same morning, Yam was on duty in the operations room at the Nachal Oz outpost. At 6:29 a.m., she spotted terrorists approaching the border fence area, as well as explosions from charges intended to breach the barrier. She alerted forces to defend the outpost and the communities in the sector. At 6:40 a.m., dozens of terrorists stormed the outpost, deploying drones that dropped bombs and struck the surveillance systems. Yam and her friends remained at their posts until the moment all surveillance systems were disabled, they were then directed to the secure room within the operations center. At 9:41 a.m., Yam sent a text message to her mother from another soldier's phone: "Mom, it's Yam. I'm okay now." That was the last sign of life from her, and since then, her mother said, "time stood still". Throughout the day, her family tried to find out where Yam was and how she was doing, hoping she was safe inside the operations center.
At the same time, numerous IDF forces were defending the outpost, engaging in fierce, heroic battles at close range against Hamas terrorists and killing dozens of them. During hours of intense combat, the terrorists attempted to seize the operations center but were repelled by the fighters. When the soldiers ran out of ammunition, a terrorist tried to enter the center but was killed by a soldier using a knife taken from one of the terrorists. Finally, the terrorists threw grenades into the operations center and set it ablaze.
Yam was initially listed as missing. A few days later, her dog tag, badly charred, was returned to her family, and her body was eventually identified.
Sergeant Yam Glass fell in battle on the 22nd of Tishrei, 5784 (October 7, 2023). She was twenty years old at the time of her death. She was laid to rest in the military section of the Modi'in cemetery. She is survived by her parents and two brothers.
Following her death, she was posthumously promoted to the rank of Staff Sergeant. Her gravestone bears the inscription: "Believe it or not, there wasn't a day I didn't think of you" (from the song "Yumbo" by Nadav Hollander)
Hundreds of family members, friends, and residents of Modi'in attended the funeral to pay their final respects. At the funeral, singer Alon Eder performed Yam's favorite song, "In Motion, In a Glance" and here are some of the lyrics: "I search within myself for beautiful words, / That I might sing, / That might make me weep. / Evening falls and I wander, / The sunset light - like a weight upon my heart. // I see an opening, / Melodies leading elsewhere. / A faint voice, soon to grow stronger. / In motion, in a glance, / We shall change - both you and I."
Her mother delivered a eulogy: "Yami, I miss you so much. I miss you all day, every day. I miss you at home, at the dinner table, in your room, I even miss seeing your things in the laundry basket. I miss your smile, your opinions, and your voice, the voice calling out 'Mom' from the other end of the house. I miss your inner and outer beauty, and that mother-daughter partnership that only mothers and daughters truly understand". She further said: "Sometimes memories bring a smile to my face, though mostly they bring longing and pain. Yet, the overwhelming feeling is one of helplessness and a suffocating ache at the thought that you are not with us now - and never will be again. I try to connect with you through the music you listened to, the stories people tell about you, and the countless photos and videos. You always look so beautiful, funny, joyful, and pure. An angel, without a doubt. There isn't a moment, not even a split second, when you aren't with me in my thoughts, my pain, and my heart; I think about what you would have wanted to do and where you would have wanted to be... I thought I had always given everything, yet I was denied the chance to give you what you truly needed."
A post I came across from the InDnegev festival: 25 years ago, Berry Sakharof's The Other was released, a special and different album, demanding and sometimes gloomy, released into a difficult and chaotic national atmosphere - terrorist attacks, exploding buses, and the Second Intifada. Out of this chaos and difficulty, a glimmer of hope emerged from Sakharof's work through a gaze "towards the Other", inspired by the writings of the Jewish-French philosopher Emmanuel Levinas and the ethics he developed, based on a direct encounter with "the face of the Other". At times, this moral imperative is stated explicitly, at other moments in the album, it and its implications are implied and illustrated as an alternative to how 'Israeliness' deals with the complex reality.
The Other is a timeless work rooted in a very, very specific time, and it seems that even today the materials created a quarter of a century ago still resonate and are incredibly relevant to this current, confusing, and harsh period.
The decision we made to keep InDnegev in Mitzpe Gvulot and in the Gaza Envelope, taking part in the area's renewed flourishing, was quick and very clear, back in the dark days of October 2023.
And yet, throughout this whole period, we've grappled with the value of this decision and what it means: what is the message and meaning of our existential need to be here in this space, what we're able to do, and what our role is in this moment and in this time.
The Other holds within it many of the answers to the questions that occupied us during this period (and a few new ones...)
Engaging in creative work in a period of chaos, confusion, and pain, speaking and writing honestly and directly about reality as we experience and understand it, and constantly trying to direct an open and loving gaze at and about the other, not out of fear and terror, but out of the desire to discover the humanity in him and in us.
InDnegev strives to be an open and enabling space, capable of containing complexities and imagining the reality in which we would like to live. This year we have chosen to mark and to highlight this work as a central theme that will guide the festival, both internally and externally, and many of the artworks at the festival will focus on the Other.
We invite you to dive into this incredible work again, which even from the distance of time still sounds amazing, and to join us in the rebuilding of InDnegev, this year in its full format again.
I was only familiar with Monsoon, the only single from The Other, so I heard the album for the first time, and wow, it really blew me away. It was just what I needed to hear. Here is the complete album, with the help of translations from LyricsTranslate:
Movie
Day, day and night
You're in a different movie
Monsoon
We'll burn time, we'll burn, burn / Everything that's between us
Let the moment pass / The past is still ahead of us
Just as I came, I left / It's all dreams
And maybe I wasn't there to love
I must have forgotten / Maybe I went far
I can't love you from up close
The thirst for love / And a hunger that lasts
And there is a lily and there is a thorn in it / And a small scratch in the heart
Just as you came to me you left me / It's all dreams
And maybe you weren't there to love
I must have been forgotten / You went far
It must be like that in dreams
Trembling
The house is trembling over me
Wind from the sea, fire on the mountain
Crooked and disjointed
Here it begins, here it ends
Everyone is on their feet
Half a pill, half erased
Time is split in two
The clock ticks backwards
And I see double
A black and white light of illusions
The house is trembling over me, swaying side to side
And it seems that in the meantime
The Messiah is waiting for an invitation
On the cellphone, in the bizarre
In a dream and in hope
The house is trembling over me
A crack is bleeding from the ceiling
The fear in the eyes
And the heart, the heart is in a suitcase
Smoke on the water
The sun is gray, the light is blocked
The noise in the ears
The sweat that sticks to the body
And I see double...
Dust on the Shoes
It's so nice to just walk / As if we were never here
In light steps on the sidewalk / Let the streets clean you
There is a bustle all around / Like bees when springtime arrives
Sometimes it seems we are not alone / Or I am you, we are everyone
We are everyone
There are those who hide their horns / And others who have glued wings to themselves
Walking to the beat, everyone on their feet / Left right, right and left, dust on the shoes
There is a bustle all around / Like bees when springtime arrives
Sometimes it seems we are not alone / Or I am you, we are everyone
We are everyone
Madness Again
Madness again / Drilling in my head
From the closet / The demon escapes
Just like that, suddenly / The rope broke
In an ancient fervor / The dam was breached
Someone said (these are) the birth pangs of the Messiah/ Today it burns (but tomorrow) tomorrow it will grow
What is hidden from you promises / That the answer my friend is blowing in the wind
No solution / is certain
The horizon is close / The wound is open
Again the dream / Is caught in the net
And into the imagination / Reality invades
Someone said..
Seeing but Not Seeing
And these are the days / nights of canned goods / eyes up and down and sideways / seeing but not seeing / so little is necessary / so much is needed / moving moving moving / lost in relationships / and the love boat / shows only reruns / on those days / the heart is locked up / converting the pain into the pain of others / the heart is locked up / they go and sing / an anthem to indifference / a voice still in the heart gets lost / seeing but not seeing / in a sea of holes / the whole is always greater than the sum of parts / mine is his is yours / yours is not mine / it doesn't matter / you and I, they've said it before / it doesn't matter / just a tool
"I'm not a singer, I'm a father who sings. I never intended to be a singer or to sing. I was kidnapped, they took everything from me. I woke up there in a hospital with a bandaged hand that didn't respond, a leg in a cast, handcuffed to a bed, they even took my earring. What they didn't take, simply because they didn't know, was the real strength from within. It helped me maintain hope, health, and sanity. Music was there for me in the most difficult moments: songs by others that played in my head. After a few months in captivity, I found myself starting to create songs. I couldn't write them; I memorized the words in my head. I couldn't play or sing them, so I just imagined the melodies.
On February 15, 2025, I was released from captivity. After two days, at night, in a hospital (the right one), I went to a side room and, with a voice like a toad without oxygen, quietly, even with a little shame, I recorded all nine songs on my phone, lyrics and melody. A few weeks later, I decided that one day I would perform the songs in a show. That day was postponed due to medical matters, rehabilitation, family, Gaza, Iran, Lebanon, and mainly because I couldn't allow myself to perform like this when there were still hostages I left behind.
After a long journey, this day has arrived. Today the music will be released, first of all in a concert - and then the entire album will be released to the world. It is no coincidence that I am doing the first show here in Nir Oz, in my home. This is the same lawn on which I ran all my childhood, the lawn on which I met Mili for the first time, the lawn on which I raised two daughters, the lawn on which I fought, and the lawn where my friends fell. This is a lawn with a different green. This is the lawn on which there were happy events in the past; since then, mainly funerals. Today's event is not a celebration, not a party, not a closing of a circle, not a victory; it is simply part of the story. Even though I chose not to return to live in Nir Oz, the kibbutz is very important to me, and I hope it will be rebuilt with new life; I hope this event will be a cornerstone of its foundations. This is also your story. Thank you for coming."
These are the words written by Sagui Dekel-Chen from a booklet given to the 3,000 attendees at his show at Nir Oz last Monday, along with the lyrics to his songs. So much has been said about the show and how moving it was, but I want to share the words that Itay Mautner, the director of the show, shared last week in a post:
"For one evening, Kibbutz Nir Oz was full of life...
3,000 people filled the saddest lawn in the world. A lawn that knew a normal, pleasant, and beautiful life before that Saturday (and not only, of course), and since October 7th has simply lost signs of life. Make no mistake about it: Nir Oz has a present, and there is growth, and there are all sorts of beautiful words, but mourning prevails in everything; the horror is on the paths, and in general almost all of the residents have not returned.
On Monday evening, a member of the kibbutz, Sagui Dekel-Chen, took to an amazing stage with talented musicians and delicate screens and sang the songs he wrote in the tunnels.
The songs are moving and delicate and beautiful, but this evening was not only tested musically. Underneath the moving two and a quarter hours, there hid an undercurrent which was present throughout the way - it's simply unbelievable! It's unbelievable that he's alive, that his daughters and beloved Mili are with us, that his mother (who was also kidnapped and escaped from them) is there. And many more friends and supporters. A packed lawn, from heart to heart.
It's simply unfathomable, and throughout the show you are constantly reminded of this terrible/joyful fact.
I had the privilege of directing the show and working closely with Sagui and Mili. Throughout the entire process, I was careful not to turn this evening into another symbol of the government's false 'redemption', another moment of so-called unity.
It was a joyful evening that does not ignore the sadness. A colorful evening that sees all the black. An evening packed with people that sees the pit.
Thank you very much for the privilege of taking part in an evening like this. For the opportunity to create moments of catharsis in front of people who, for too long, have worked to achieve the obvious - to bring our sons and daughters home.
And it was a tremendous evening that showed that music knows how to enter the wounded heart and does a dazzling job of polishing it.
Thank you to the wonderful Sagui, Oren Arnan, the hero from Shuki Weiss, to Michal and Daphna and Uri from the Israel Festival who invited, accompanied, and supported me, to the many friends who came to be with us on the grass...
I won
Now there is only one important job to do at the end of October, and we are on the right track".
I was curious to hear Sagui's songs the moment I heard about the show, and I was eager to listen to the entire album, Minus One. Some moments brought tears to my eyes, but there were also many moments of joy, celebrating the precious, ordinary moments of life. Here they are, track by track:
