Yesterday, we remembered October 7. We remembered the more than 1,200 lives lost, the families torn apart, and the communities destroyed. We looked back at the horrors of that day and the people whose lives would never be the same. But today, October 8, I want to focus on something else. I want to remember what happened in the days that followed. While families were still searching for loved ones and the country was trying to understand what had happened, people were already stepping up to help. Israelis opened their homes to strangers, restaurants began preparing meals for soldiers, and volunteers collected everything from clothing to medical supplies. Nobody was waiting around to be asked. They saw what needed to be done and did it.

Some of that spirit was already on display during the massacre itself. At the Nova festival, 22-year-old Aner Shapira stood at the entrance of a bomb shelter, throwing seven grenades back outside before the eighth killed him. Because of his courage, others survived. Youssef Ziadna, a Bedouin Arab bus driver, drove into danger and rescued approximately 30 people fleeing the festival. Neither of them knew what the next day would bring. They simply knew that people needed their help. And those were just two stories among countless acts of bravery, many of which we’ll probably never hear about.

In the days after October 7, something incredible happened across Israel. Dr. Nechumi Yaffe, an ultra-Orthodox Israeli woman, helped organize a volunteer initiative that grew to approximately 14,000 people. Religious and secular Jews, who had spent months disagreeing about so much, were now working together to help their fellow Israelis. Near Metula, a farmer was worried about losing his persimmon harvest because he didn’t have enough workers. His daughter reached out for help, and 170 volunteers showed up. In four days, they picked 40 tons of fruit. Across the country, thousands of people did the same. They helped farmers, delivered groceries, packed supplies, and supported families who had lost everything. Hundreds of ZAKA volunteers spent weeks doing the heartbreaking work of recovering victims so that their families could give them a proper burial. These weren’t all people who had planned to become volunteers. They were people who had jobs, families, and their own problems, but decided that helping others was more important.

And it wasn’t just happening in Israel. In Jewish communities around the world, people were organizing fundraisers, collecting donations, packing supplies, and looking for any way they could help. Here in New Jersey, like in so many other places, it felt as though everyone wanted to do something. People who had never met an Israeli soldier were sending packages. Families who had never visited the communities attacked on October 7 were raising money to help them rebuild. For many young Jews, myself included, those days also changed the way we looked at our Jewish identity and our connection to Israel. Three years later, that connection is still there. Families are returning to the communities that were attacked, homes are being rebuilt, and people are doing their best to move forward while remembering those they lost. It reminds me of a quote I love: “We might be the tiniest nation on earth, but we are, without question, the biggest family.”

That’s what I think of when I hear the words October 8th Jew. Not just the people who performed extraordinary rescues or organized thousands of volunteers, but everyone who decided to do something. The teenager packing a care package, the family opening its home, the volunteer spending a day on a farm, or the person checking in on someone who was struggling. Yesterday, we remembered what was taken from us on October 7, and we must never stop remembering. But today, let’s also remember the incredible amount of good that came afterward. The friendships, the kindness, the generosity, and the feeling that no matter where we lived or how different we were, we were all there for one another. October 7 is the story of what was done to us. October 8 is the story of what we chose to do for one another. And I hope that spirit stays with us long after the anniversaries are over.