In the heart of Israel, amidst the celebration of a wedding, one can truly grasp the complex tapestry of joy and vigilance that characterizes life here. Last Friday, I attended a friend’s wedding, a scene that perfectly encapsulated the collision of celebration and survival that many Israelis navigate daily.

The event began with the blessings of a Holocaust survivor, a poignant reminder of the enduring strength and resilience that courses through the veins of this nation. His words, steeped in the wisdom of survival and the importance of cherishing life, set a reflective tone. Then, the aunt of one of the hostages also talked and blessed the couple, a reminder of what’s happening now.

As the party unfolded, the mix of joyous dancing with the sobering reality of guests, myself included, carrying weapons was striking. These are not merely precautions but necessities for many, especially those of us returning from reserve duty, unable to leave our defenses behind even in moments of festivity.

Amid the revelry, my wife’s question cut through the music, “Can you even imagine, like the folks at the Nova party, where celebration turned to tragedy?” This reference to Oct. 7, where revelers were abruptly met with violence echoed painfully in our current mirth. Her words were a chilling reminder of the thin line between joy and calamity in our lives.

The event took another sad turn with a distressing update from my unit’s WhatsApp group — a friend’s relative, previously thought to be held hostage, was now confirmed murdered at the Nova festival. The news was a gut punch.

Conversations at the wedding inevitably turned towards a coexistence program involving Palestinian and Israeli entrepreneurs, in which some of us participated, highlighting the fragile threads of peace we attempt to weave. These programs, aimed at fostering understanding and collaboration, seem all the more vital and, paradoxically, fragile in times of conflict. A fellow program participant lamented, “If we can’t continue a dialogue, what are these programs for?” The war had strained, if not severed, many such dialogues, underscoring the complex layers of pain each side endures.

As the party drew to a close, the bride and groom — both of whom had spent time in reserve duty — shared a tearful embrace, surrounded by friends and family. Their tears were not just for the joy of their union but for the shared longing of all present: to live without fear, to celebrate without restraint, and to simply exist in peace. This moment, powerful and poignant, was a raw glimpse into the heartache and hope that define life here. They, like many others, don’t wish for conflict but are swept into its currents, fighting only when necessary and dreaming of a day when their children might inherit a life free from such burdens.

This is the reality of a wedding in Israel today: a tapestry of profound joy, deep-seated fear, and the unyielding hope for a peaceful tomorrow.

Yair Nativ is the CEO of Mind Dome, ‘The First Line of Defense for Your Mind.’ He serves as a reserves medic in the surgical unit of the IDF.