Like We Were Dreamers: The Whiplash of Israel’s Sudden Return to Routine

The sudden announcement from President Trump regarding a ceasefire with Iran caught many off guard, while others saw it coming, depending on who you ask. Regardless, it has thrust the Israeli public back into the "day after" the Passover holiday with a jarring sense of normalcy, almost as if the war of the past two months was a distant memory.

In the middle of the night on the Seventh Day of Passover, the same time our ancestors crossed the Red Sea, which miraculously turned into dry land, modern Israelis found themselves fleeing to bomb shelters once again. Just as those who crossed the sea cried out to the Creator, "Out of the depths I called to the Lord; the Lord answered me with a broad place," Israelis faced a barrage of Iranian missiles that turned a joyous holiday into a night of dread. No Egyptian ruler, nor any Iranian regime that refuses to accept the eternal nature of the Jewish people, could stop that ancient journey, yet the modern threat felt all too real.

But on the way to the "safe rooms" and public shelters, a piece of information arrived that was just as startling: President Trump had authorized a two-week ceasefire. From that moment, the news rolled forward like a fireball, or perhaps more like a block of ice that froze the missiles mid-air. It put the war on "standby," like a television finally turned off so the news anchors could take a much-needed breath.

The speed of the transition was dizzying. The Home Front Command lifted restrictions across most of the country (excluding the North, where the conflict with Hezbollah persists); the Ministry of Education announced the physical return of students to classrooms; Ben Gurion Airport resumed full operations; and local bakeries returned to selling chametz. The world resumed its course. It is a psychological shock: just a moment ago, we were at war.

Can a single decision from the President of the United States truly erase the immediate past?

If you ask any Israeli today how they feel, they would likely describe the last three years as an emotional roller coaster, one that is occasionally shot at from a distance. Between the high-speed loops, there are brief pauses to catch one's breath or perhaps recover from the nausea of the ride. This instability has caused massive disruptions to daily life, a chronic lack of sleep, and anxieties that threaten the balance of even the most composed citizens.

And then, a miracle of sorts: President Trump says the words "authorized a ceasefire," and suddenly a new sun rises over the Middle East. Routine returns as if Iranian missiles hadn't been raining down just 24 hours prior. It feels unnatural; it doesn't quite add up.

The average Israeli craves the blessed routine that was stolen over the last two months. However, we are also a people of memory. As we approach our national days of remembrance, we must not let the fresh trauma of this war vanish. It is our duty to remind ourselves, and the world, that only yesterday, Iran was launching missiles at our homes. A ceasefire does not change the regime’s underlying intent.

We must remember that the threat remains. We cannot afford to let this war be forgotten too quickly, or reality will surely find a way to remind us of what we tried so hard to erase.