With the Maccabiah Games opening today, I find myself reflecting on how much these Games have come to mean to me. Thirty-three years ago, I marched into the opening ceremony in Ramat Gan as a 20-year-old representing France. This year, I return as a 53-year-old Israeli citizen, living in Israel and competing with the team of French olim brought together by Qualita.

Competing this year feels significantly different. We gather after nearly three years in which Israel has had to defend itself on several fronts, and after a sharp rise in antisemitism around the world, including in France, the country where I was born and one that remains dear to my heart. I choose not to let that pain harden into rejection: when something in the world is broken, our calling is to help repair it, not to turn away. For me, taking part in the Maccabiah Games is more than an athletic competition. The Games are a way to put joy back at the center of our lives, celebrate life, and give ourselves hope for what comes next.

My family’s story reminds me why that matters. Eighty years ago, my grandfather, Elie, fought alongside Menachem Begin in the Irgun so that a Jewish state could come into existence. He met my grandmother, Rosa, herself a fighter, and together they built a family whose roots remain in Yafo, the coastal town where I now live with my wife and our three sons. Today, our children – mine and so many others across Israel – answer the same call their great-grandparents once did: not out of any longing for war, but out of a duty to protect the country and the life it makes possible. My grandparents fought so that the State of Israel could come into being. Our children serve so that it can endure, and so that one day it can live at peace with its neighbors. I carry that same spirit of determination onto the fencing strip. Three generations. Eighty years. One fight to exist. And one hope: to build a future where existing no longer demands a fight.

I fence épée, the weapon closest to a real duel. The sport rewards patience, precision, discipline, and self-control over brute force. To me, fencing has become a metaphor for how I hope Israel will keep carrying itself in the world: firm in defending its right to exist, yet always guided by ethics, restraint, and truth, and turned toward building rather than confrontation. At a time when misinformation and antisemitism spread so easily, our challenge is to make our truth heard calmly and clearly.

Fencing is also one of the world’s oldest sports, built on tradition while remaining deeply relevant today. It reminds me that our responsibility is not only to defend what we have, but to pass it on by building, teaching, and strengthening our future generations.

This year, every athlete on the Qualita Olim team is competing in memory of a French-Israeli soldier who fell during the war. I have the honor of competing in memory of Master Sergeant (Res.) Eliyahu Meir Ohana z”l, who answered the call on October 7, served first on the Golan Heights, and later fell in combat in Gaza on December 23, 2023, at just 28 years old. He left behind his wife, Revaya; his daughter Tohar, who was only two years old; his infant son Yossef; and his parents, Hanna and Avraham. I had the privilege of speaking with his father, who told me how meaningful it is that Eliyahu’s memory will continue to live through these Games.

Eliyahu’s family also shared with me a line he used to say: “Don’t be a fork in a world of soups.” His legacy is a reminder to live with purpose by contributing, carrying others, seizing opportunities, and leaving the world better than we found it. Dedicating my épée to Eliyahu, and through him honoring his battalion and brigade, is both a distinct honor and a responsibility. We owe it to these young men and women, and to their families, to continue building the future they gave everything to protect.

That is why the Maccabiah matters. Gathering Jewish athletes in Israel this summer goes beyond medals and competition. These Games are about bringing together Jews from around the world to celebrate our identity, our resilience, and our future. As a member of Voice of the People, I see that same spirit reflected in our community every day. We come from different countries, cultures, and perspectives, yet we remain connected by a strong sense of purpose and a commitment to our shared future. Especially in these challenging times, choosing to come together is itself an act of hope.

It is also an expression of tikkun olam – the Jewish idea that each of us carries a share of the responsibility to repair the world. That belief sits at the heart of our tradition and of everything we pass from one generation to the next: not only the duty to protect Jewish life, but the calling to bring something constructive to the world around us. That, far more than any medal, is what I hope to carry onto the strip and well beyond it.