“For us Israelis, our calendars are still set on October 7.” These were the words of the president of Bar Ilan University in Tel Aviv to a 21-member delegation of the Jewish Studies Faculty Solidarity Mission to Israel. The events of that day — the largest single-day massacre of Jews since the Holocaust — still dominate Israeli consciousness and mark the moment when Israeli life changed forever.

I was invited to join this delegation, for a week in January, due to my long association with Hebrew Union College, the seminary of Reform Judaism.

The grandson of my doctoral adviser, Ben Zion Wacholder, of blessed memory, was murdered by Hamas militants on Oct. 7. As an early teen during World War II, Wacholder had been sent away to fend for himself the night before his Jewish village in Poland was to be razed and its inhabitants deported to their deaths.

His grandson, Hayim Katzman, lived in a kibbutz next to the Gaza border. His grandfather had been the sole surviving member of a family murdered by Nazis. Now, his grandson was murdered by Hamas, also due to his Jewish identity.

The war has impacted every family in Israel. There are still about 135,000 displaced Israelis: vast population displacement from the north in Galilee due to the threats of Hezbollah, the destruction of settlements in the southwest and other villages still deemed not safe for habitation.

Our tour of colleges and universities included Sapir College, with 8,000 students, one-half mile from the Gaza border, where nine faculty members were murdered on Oct. 7.

The vice president for student services at Tel Aviv University ­talked about the challenges of bringing Jewish and Arab students back into the same classrooms after the experiences of the fall. With 30% of their students on active reserve duty, academic work is a challenge. Students on active duty are required to carry their weapons at all times.

Walking through the ruins of Kfar Azza, the first village attacked on Oct. 7, we arrived at the fence bordering Gaza. Wearing helmets and flak jackets, we viewed the destroyed and burned homes, where almost all the residents were murdered. Smoke from the Gaza bombardment rose a few hundred yards away across an open field. A rocket fired from a helicopter hissed over our heads.

We saw people sifting the ashes of the houses, reconstructing the story of what happened on Oct. 7, since the residents are not alive to tell it.

The center for Israeli public response to the attacks of Oct. 7 and the aftermath is Hostage Square in front of the Tel Aviv Museum of Art. There the families of the hostages and displaced people have a constant presence. Demonstrations against the government for its failure to bring back the hostages extend to a call for resignations and new elections. The music of the square gives expression to the grief, anger and resilience of the Israeli people.

John Kampen, a retired minister with Central District Conference of Mennonite Church USA, is distinguished research professor at Methodist Theological Seminary in Ohio and former academic dean of Bluffton University.