It is now October 8th, 2024. I wrote this article in July to reflect on a trip to Israel that was meant to emotionally support friends and family, explore how I could spend more time there in the future, and volunteer. So much has happened every day since that I questioned the relevance of publishing this. I then realized that not only does the title remain too apt, but it is also a reminder of experiences we had along the way. So here are some vignettes and reflections from my July trip.
The Reveal
Like many committed Zionists, I arrived in Israel to volunteer and to support however I could. After strolling through Tel Aviv’s streets, I was somewhat unnerved by seeing how full the restaurants were and how the gorgeous young Tel Avivians were laughing and talking with their peers. Did they not understand that there are over 100 hostages still not home and that we are at war? I thought to myself: These are hardy people; of course, they need to move forward.
The next day I reported to “Hostage Square” for my first volunteer slot this trip. I had been in Israel in January and had volunteered at Hostage Square before. I loved the range of people who visited. In January I had met mostly Anglo and French-speaking visitors, but this night most visitors were Israelis, as the program was in Hebrew. A panel of hostages’ families and a wounded soldier were asked questions by a moderator. It was based on a British show I’d never heard of, “Ask and I Will Answer.”
I staffed a booth selling various items with “Bring Them Home” messaging, whose proceeds went to the families of the hostages. The booth was about three tables long. It was a busy night. People came to browse, to pick up yet another flag or poster or sticker to put on their window or car or arm. We chatted, we joked about the heat, we looked at posters of the hostages and discussed whether they have this one or the other at home and if they should pick another.
And then without fail, as they passed the last table, every single person stopped, looked at us and gave a deep sigh, seemingly from the depths of their soul. The sigh said it all—”Who would believe it is still going on after all this time?” The message was clear. I got it. Life does have to go on, but none are immune. There’s a deep level of sadness for all in this country just below the surface, whether it’s externally visible or not. And just when you think you can’t get any sadder… you do.
Drone Attack on Tel Aviv
It happened a few blocks from where I was staying. At the market the next morning, people described buildings shaking and a great boom. People asked about the sole victim, a”h. Regardless, as it was a Friday, the purchases of food for Shabbat continued. On the way home, I started getting calls and texts from family and friends overseas asking if I was all right. I responded quickly, as I was rushing out to meet a friend coming in from another area who had called to tell me that “of course” she was coming in.
After that, I went to see a play at the Camari Theater with a title that translated as “What is going on with the world?” It’s not about world politics but about family. Shows on Friday afternoon tend to draw many from the suburbs of Tel Aviv. The hall was filled to capacity, even though it was not a new play. It seemed no one had canceled out of concern about coming into Tel Aviv. After the requisite announcement telling us to stay in our seats if there was a siren because the hall was below ground, the play started. Everyone was engrossed. But now I knew that no one had forgotten the hostages or our situation for even a second. They knew they had no choice but to continue onward with their lives.
After Kiddush
On Shabbat after shul, friends and I walked over to the drone attack site on Shalom Aleikhem Street off of Ben Yehuda. Others had the same idea. Walking home from various shuls, many gathered on the corner to discuss the trajectory, the impact, and the intended target of the attack. Not knowing anything about drones, I could see that the damage done seemed to have been caused by a larger explosive than one would expect from a drone.
Although I, like so many others, do not feel these are miraculous times for the Jews, this may just be one situation that was: The building that was hit was undergoing renovations. No one lived there. The only inhabitants of the building were from some offices where they were obviously not present at 3 a.m. when the attack occurred. The one person who was killed lived across the street. The engine of the drone somehow fell into his apartment. It was said that the drone engine was bigger than one would think when one hears that it was a drone.
The building hit was one short block away from the American Embassy. You can see the embassy from the corner. Theories abound as to whether the target was the American Embassy or a warning to the U.S. that the Houthis can get that close.
Bringing Goods to Soldiers
Before my trip, a good friend canvassed the volunteer chats and sent me a list of things soldiers needed—things like deodorant, toothpaste, protein bars, quick-dri shirts, and underwear. The list also included electrolytes. We had planned to be in Israel at the same time, and each brought a suitcase full of things for the soldiers. We took a day trip to the south to Shuva junction—a Gaza entry point—to donate the things we had brought.
The Shuva junction complex was covered by a large tent. There was hot food for the soldiers, drinks, and a commissary of sorts, which was somewhat of a shack. The size of the shack was such that the volunteers who normally staff the shack had to leave so that the four of us who came on the day trip had room to put our donations into the appropriate boxes. Soldiers came in to ask for this and that, so we gave them what we could find. Some soldiers looked like they should be in high school. I had just been told that some of those stationed deep in Gaza have lost up to eight kilos (18 pounds) in the last months. So I was determined to include protein bars and electrolytes whenever a soldier asked for anything. The protein bars were graciously accepted. The electrolytes were met with skepticism! I explained in Hebrew that electrolytes are a powder one puts in water to replenish minerals and vitamins. They hesitatingly accepted a tube, leaving me with a strong sense that I was being humored. I approached soldiers sitting outside and gave a tube of electrolytes to each of them. Before we left, an older soldier came by and asked me if there were instructions that he could give the others. I told him that each soldier I had met could now forward the message.
The Emotional Toll
I had lived in Israel in the ’80s during many wars and war-like situations. I have traveled back and forth to Israel since the ’90s for business and for family. I am not unfamiliar with feeling that we have many enemies. But this time was and continues to be different. My friends who are strong and—the oft-used word—resilient are now frightened and losing hope. The losses are all around them—neighbors, storekeepers, family, and friends. They don’t understand how it can be that the world is against us and that the countries getting international support are terrorists and dictators. They ask me how committed Jews in the U.S. could stand against Israel. And I have no answer but to take them out to a café in Tel Aviv, and when I returned to the States, send them holiday packages, play Words with Friends in French, a language I am not conversant in, so they would win, and call often, even though we usually end up with nothing to say.
I am planning my next trip soon and hope against hope that by the time you read this in November, we will find ourselves in a safer world.