“You are not disabled. You are exceptional soldiers with a mission no one else can fulfill.”

Imagine a hand—not just any hand, but a symbol of survival that electrifies an entire nation. Two fingers missing, yet radiating more power than a complete hand ever could.

This is the story of Emily Damari, a 28-year-old British-Israeli who emerged last week from 471 days of darkness, her hand injured but her spirit unbroken. When she was released from Hamas captivity, her hand became more than a physical testament to suffering, it became a battle cry of resilience that swept across Israel like wildfire.

Something extraordinary happened when the world saw Emily’s hand, which was missing its middle and ring finger. Her injury, intended to be a mark of trauma, became a declaration of strength.

Moshe Shapira, a father and artist who lost his oldest son, Aner Shapira, on Oct. 7, 2023, turned the image of Emily’s injured hand into a symbol of blessings, and at the same time, transformed his pain into purpose. Aner was a 22-year-old combat soldier in the Nahal Brigade known for his quiet determination and commitment to protecting others. During the Hamas terrorist attacks in southern Israel on that dark day, he was attending the Nova music festival with his best friend, Hersh Goldberg-Polin, when terror struck.

As the party-goers were fleeing the festival, Aner and his friends sought refuge in a roadside shelter along with other innocent civilians, most of them young. Amazing video footage captured how he bravely protected those huddling inside the shelter, throwing back seven grenades that were lobbed by Hamas fighters into the bunker. On the eighth grenade, he was critically wounded, ultimately sacrificing his life while saving more than a dozen people.

His actions that day transformed him from a young soldier to a national hero—a symbol of extraordinary sacrifice.

While he could have been consumed by the grief of losing his child, Moshe chose to create. Inspired by Emily’s wounded hand and his own son’s ultimate sacrifice, he reimagined the ancient Priestly Blessing—a gesture of Divine protection now infused with modern-day heroism.

The iconic hand gesture—fingers spread, a split between middle and ring fingers—is one familiar to descendants of the Kohanim (as well as fans of the show “Star Trek”) who make the gesture when blessing the Jewish people on Shabbat and holidays.

Where others saw loss, Moshe Shapira saw possibility. His iconic image of a priestly blessing with the middle fingers missing became a symbol of hope, strength and resilience, and has been shared countless times on social media and graffitied on walls and buildings all over Israel.

The Lubavitcher Rebbe—Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson—viewed disabled soldiers of the Israel Defense Forces and saw not weakness, but extraordinary strength and purpose. “You are not disabled,” he said, “you are exceptional soldiers with a mission no one else can fulfill.”

This is more than a platitude. This is a profound spiritual truth: Our wounds do not define us—our response to them does.

The Birkat Kohanim—Priestly Blessing—rings out: “May God bless you and keep you, may God shine His face upon you and be gracious to you, may God lift up His countenance and grant you peace.”

These holy words are not just a prayer; they are a promise. A commitment that even in our darkest moments, light can emerge.

What the terrorists intended to destroy became a canvas for hope. Emily’s wounded hand, Aner’s ultimate sacrifice, Moshe’s transformative art—these are not stories of victimhood. They are declarations of an unbreakable spirit.

In the face of unspeakable loss, the Jewish people do not just survive. They transform. They create. They bless.

From every crack of pain, light pours through. And in that light, hope is reborn.

Rabbi Areyah Kaltmann is the chief Chabad rabbi of Columbus, Ohio.