To the multitude of burdens and scars I carry from life, a new one was added just ten days ago, one that I couldn’t have imagined even in my wildest dreams: I am now a survivor of a massacre.

On that black Shabbat, I was in my home in Nirim when terrorists infiltrated the kibbutz and started entering homes. While they set fires, killed, kidnapped, looted, and vandalized, we hid in our mamad. The only weapon we had against the terrorists gathered under our window for long minutes and hours, attempting to break into our house, was my sweaty hand on the mamad door. The horror lasted for eight hours without any help from the army. An additional four hours in the mamad with no soldiers coming to our aid, and then 18 hours during which we were besieged in the kibbutz amidst the fighting until the long-awaited evacuation. From that moment on, we’ve been bombarded by bad news about our friends, about our children’s fellow students, their teachers, and acquaintances, and about entire families who were wiped out.

None of this serves as a recipe for a clear state of mind. But the very same pain that accentuates our tremendous sense of having been abandoned also sheds light on whatever chance we have to revive this devastated part of our country. The short term is challenging, and the civic mobilization has been incredibly impressive. However, as with any moment of destruction, the defining moment will be what comes after, both on our side of the fence (or whatever structure replaces that boundary that cost billions of dollars and then crumbled in five minutes), and on the other side of it.

Those who were there, who understand the scale of the destruction and communal loss, both human and physical, understand that for us to return, we need a reconstruction team that can swiftly produce plans, permits, and workers for restoring the physical infrastructure, and a recovery fund for physical, community, family, and personal rehabilitation. Both of these are already processes already began last week.

These efforts are imperative, now, now now. It is unbelievable that while hundreds of our friends have not been buried yet, Israel’s failed politicians are busy quarreling over “loyalty.” The rebuilding process needs a manager who is professional, fast, and accurate.

I’m aware of the existence of rehabilitation funds from Bank Hapoalim, from the Jewish Agency, and perhaps from others. It’s disheartening to see grief-stricken kibbutzim competing for donations: it wounds the shattered heart even more. A single, robust foundation bringing together all relevant parties, especially those connected to the region (authorities and councils, the kibbutz movement, the Western Negev cluster, local representatives, government officials, philanthropy, and businesses) can facilitate the change that’s urgently needed. The narrow window of opportunity is already closing. It must happen now, now, now.

However, all of this will be futile without changes in arrangements across the fence, in Gaza. Hamas achieved a brilliant military victory but suffered a moral defeat. It was exposed as a force akin to ISIS or the Nazis, absolute evil. In this world, absolute evil is rare. It must be combated with all our strength. In the past, I’ve suggested that Israel negotiate with Hamas (alongside the PA, Egypt, and other parties) to reach a settlement, but now it has lost its right to exist. It endangers both Zionists and Palestinians, Jews and Arabs, from the sea to the river and beyond.

The sole objective of this “war of no choice” should be the overthrow of Hamas and the replacement of its government. This must be the minimum condition for restoring the communities surrounding Gaza to their rightful place. There must also be robust diplomatic agreements that involving the Palestinian Authority, Egypt, Saudi Arabia, and other international powers in the rehabilitation, management, and oversight of Gaza.

All of this stands in opposition to revenge and to harming uninvolved innocent civilians. In the past week, I’ve heard many friends talk about a “view to the sea” from our settlements, meaning that the cities of Gaza should cease to exist. I don’t condemn them. Those who do not understand the horrors we’ve experienced may not comprehend. However, I believe that the fewer civilians we harm, the more we uphold our moral standards, which are already under intense scrutiny. More than that, this is the only path to creating a genuinely different reality. It’s the only way a new government can gain legitimacy, and if we succeed, fewer children and young people will be drawn into the endless cycle of revenge that has claimed so many victims here.

Call me naïve, call me deluded. In my view, anyone who thinks the same thing they thought on Saturday, October 7th, at 6:29 AM, is either a fool or a liar. We’ve fallen into a deep, dark pit, and our only chance of finding a way out is in precise, measured, and practical action.

Translation by Devora Busheri. Original in Hebrew published in Haaretz: here.

Avi Dabush is a rabbinical student in Hartman’s Beit Midrash for Israeli Rabbis.