In the face of death, we remember the redemptive power of love

So how did those who were hurting most choose to act? In the depths of their anguish, they spoke with love, hope and heart-rending dignity. Before tens of thousands of people in Rabin Square, the three mothers bared their souls to the world.

Rachel, mother of Naftali, proclaimed it "an assembly of love and of unity". Bat Galim, mother of Gilad, addressed her son: "People have come together to pray for your return and when you come back you will find that our family has expanded greatly - you have brothers and sisters all over Israel and the world". "We want you back already," said Iris, mother of Eyal, "we are waiting to embrace you with warmth."

And in cities the world over, for 18 days a people held its breath, responding with moving vigils and with prayer. It mattered not whether one is religious or secular, Jew or gentile; all can empathise with the suffering of a mother and father, of brothers and sisters and teachers and friends.

In the face of brutality, we make the choice to embrace life. We deplore the loss of innocent lives and reaffirm our positive humanity.

The mothers of Naftali, Gilad and Eyal proclaimed hope, where hope seemed slim, and articulated love, while their hearts were breaking. Where others might have screamed, or sought revenge, they maintained their dignity.

As we wander, grieving, in yet another dark moment, amid our pain we must struggle to remember the redemptive power of love and hope.

And though it is a struggle, it is one worth choosing. In the face of terror, we walk together, united. In our fear, we choose to open our hands and hearts to new friends we meet along the way. In our sorrow, we continue to strive, yearn and pray for peace. And in the face of death, we will continue to choose and sanctify life.