Life is a constant movement between order and disorder, a delicate balance between structure and chaos, between the expected and unexpected, between moments of clarity and the unknown. This tension is the very essence of our existence — the breath that sustains us and the drama that shapes our journey.

In the midst of the profound pain in Israel and for Jews around the world, Hamas released the lifeless bodies of two young souls, Kfir and Ariel Bibas. The images of this family, once filled with life, had been seared into our consciousness, reminders of innocence stolen and of the deep fractures in our world.

The chaos was supposed to be in order for a minute, when we were promised the body of Shiri, their mother, to be with them. Yet, we find out that even this little piece of final rest turned out to be a disorder and a violation of expectations. It was not Shiri’s body that was returned. She cannot yet be at peace. Order will have to wait.

In our synagogue, we still have the photos of Iair Horn and Romi Gonen hanging by the bimah. We prayed for them during our High Holidays. They are now free. Order seemingly returned to them, but no doubt they will suffer a form of disorder for the rest of their lives.

For me, I was able to step away from these thoughts, just for a moment. A trip to Cartagena, Colombia, for my nephew’s wedding, originally was planned for September 2024 in Israel, but due to the ongoing disordering reality, flights being cancelled for family to arrive from overseas, the wedding was relocated to Colombia. Out of the disorder came order. What was meant to be a celebration in one homeland was reimagined in another, a reminder that while disorder may uproot our plans, the essence of joy and connection remains unshaken.

Even as I celebrated, the weight of the world was never far from me. Yet, even amid grief, we hold space for joy.  My nephew’s wedding became a symbol of resilience — a testament to the Jewish spirit that refuses to be broken. It was a weekend of unrestrained celebration, where guests from across the world — South America, the U.S. and Israel — gathered to dance, to sing, and to momentarily exist in a space of light. It was all meticulously organized. A brief sanctuary (chuppah) from the storm.

The colors of Cartagena itself seemed to echo this theme: vibrant, chaotic and alive. The old city was the center of the slavery trade in the southern continent. Now, its streets adorned with a blend of Colonial grandeur and indigenous richness, mirror our own lives — moving between structure and spontaneity, between walking calmly and being interrupted by street vendors trying to push their merchandise, between order and its inevitable disruption.

After the wedding, I flew to the capital, Bogota. From sea level on the Caribbean coast into the 9,000-foot-high tropical Andes Mountains. I found it hard to breathe for the first couple of days. But I also found myself breathless of the sights of another Columbian city, its captivating beauty, its colorfulness, and its stories, letting its history, its soul, and its imperfections unfold before me.

We live in a world where plans change, where joy and sorrow intertwine, where we must carve out moments of stability within the whirlwind. But this is what we do as a people. We embrace the disorder, yet we never stop building order. We mourn, yet we continue to dance. We grieve for the past and even the present, yet we step forward into the future.

May all of us find our own sanctuaries of order, no matter how fleeting, in the midst of the world’s disorder.

—Rabbi Gadi Capela