This week, EL AL introduced its 17th Dreamliner to the fleet. But for anyone paying attention, this wasn’t just another aircraft announcement — it was a statement of national identity, moral clarity and Jewish resilience in a world desperately lacking the first two and trying to destroy the third.
Rather than naming the new Boeing 787 after an Israeli city — as is their tradition — EL AL gave it a name pulled from the pages of Jewish prayer:
“Acheinu Kol Beit Yisrael.”
“Our brothers, the entire House of Israel.”
It’s the first phrase in a prayer we say every morning, asking God to protect and have mercy on Jews in captivity and bring them home in peace. Today, it’s not just a verse. It’s a cry. A plea. A reflection of the heartbreak that has gripped this country since October 7th — when 251 of our people were dragged into Gaza, and when 58 still remain in brutal Hamas captivity, with at least 34 believed to be deceased.
But here’s why this matters:
EL AL could have stuck to routine. They could have named the plane “Haifa” or “Eilat” and moved on. But they didn’t. They paused. They made space. They used their platform — quite literally — to remind the world that the State of Israel is not just a dot on the map. It’s a family. A people bound not only by borders, but by destiny.
This was more than a naming decision. It was a declaration of values.
Because when the airline of Israel chooses to fly the skies with a prayer for our hostages etched on its side, it’s saying: We don’t forget. We don’t move on. We don’t look away.
And neither should you.
The world sees aircraft as tools of transit. But for Jews, flight has always meant something more. From the prophetic vision of being “gathered from the four corners of the earth,” to the real-life miracle of Jews boarding EL AL planes to come home after thousands of years in exile — every flight is a fulfillment of something deeper.
Now, one of those planes carries our collective heartbreak on its wings. But it also carries our unity. Our faith. Our fight.
In a time when hostages are often reduced to numbers, when terrorists are rebranded as “militants,” and when the world grows tired of our pain, EL AL just reminded us — and them — that we are still watching. Still praying. Still believing. Still fighting.
The name on this plane isn’t just a slogan. It’s who we are. And it’s who we’ll remain until every last one of our brothers and sisters comes home.
Kol hakavod, EL AL. You may be the airline of Israel. But today, you lifted the spirit of Am Yisrael.