The Wall Is Empty

This week, I walked past a wall I’ve passed every single day since I started at the JCC in the fall of 2024.

And for the first time, it was empty.

The photo above shows that wall — blank as of earlier this week — but for more than a year it held the faces of every hostage taken by Hamas on October 7, 2023. If you came to the J during that time, you saw them. On the way to the locker rooms. Heading to a Silver Sneakers class. Racing to find an empty chair on the outdoor pool deck. We all passed those innocent, beautiful faces every single day.

We didn’t just hang those posters. We lived alongside them.

That wall became part of the emotional landscape of our building. A place we glanced at quickly some days and lingered in front of on others. A quiet reminder that Jewish life doesn’t happen in isolation; what happens to Jews anywhere in the world is felt right here in Indianapolis.

This week, that chapter shifted.

For the first time in 12 years, there are no Israeli hostages being held in Gaza. Police Staff Sergeant Ran Gvili — among the first taken on October 7 — was the last to be recovered. He died a hero, protecting his country and saving lives.

His return closes a chapter that has weighed heavily on Jews everywhere, including in our own hallways. However, an empty wall does not mean an empty heart or that we have forgotten. We continue to mourn the lives cut short and to hold the families forever changed. We continue to carry the pain of what was endured.

And this is where the JCC matters in ways that can be hard to put into words. 

While the world felt heavy, life at the J kept unfolding — and that, too, is part of our resilience. There were mornings I raced by the wall, running late to my personal training session with Kylie after a hectic school drop off, vowing to pause at the wall on my way back down the hall. One early afternoon, I noticed a member staring at the wall, perfectly still except for the tear that ran down her cheek. Season after season, year after year, the wall remained, witnessing our community move forward. 

The JCC is where Jewish life continues — not in spite of history, but alongside it.

That wall held sorrow, resilience, and unbreakable connection. Now, in its emptiness, it holds something else: a reminder that community is what carries us through every chapter. That we do not process joy or grief alone, and that simply walking into a Jewish space and seeing familiar faces can be its own kind of comfort.

I am grateful that we have this place. I am grateful that we have each other.

May the memories of those lost be a blessing and may we continue building a community strong enough to hold both our grief and our hope.

Shabbat Shalom.

Sam Dubrinsky

Chief Executive Officer