G’day, Sawasdee, Shalom

Since October 7, like many in the Jewish Diaspora, my heart and mind has been consumed by the tragedy inflicted upon Israel by Hamas, the war in Gaza, daily tragic losses of soldiers and citizens, the continual rockets fired from Hezbollah, and the uncertainty gripping the Jewish people.

For months, Australian Jews have been fighting our own homegrown war against lies, hate and propaganda, including multiple university encampments, weekly protestors in our CBD and the proliferation of radical anti-Jewish groups. We vacillate between solidarity, resolve, anger and abandonment.

A week in Thailand with my family easily beckoned in the drudges of Melbourne’s winter, so last week, I visited the resort town of Koh Samui with my family. I looked forward to Pad Thai, reading a book (I had lined up The Genius of Israel by Dan Senor and Saul Singer, a brilliant read), humid, sticky heat, and lazing by the hotel pool.

I did not expect to meet and hear the stories of Liat and Yehuda, Alona and Ella, Shmuel, Erez and many other travelers from my beloved home country who were taking a much-needed respite from a painful, extended war.

My first clue was a Bring Them Home sticker at the luggage carousel at Samui Airport. The next night, as we hit the night markets, we spotted dozens of Israeli fallen soldier stickers on the streets. Koh Samui was full of Israeli travelers, and I couldn’t have been happier.

At the pool at my hotel, I heard as much Hebrew as I did Aussie slang around me. Most of the Israelis didn’t realize I was Jewish, let alone born in Haifa. Spotting them a mile away, I exchanged smiles with any who would look my way at the breakfast buffet. Eventually, I started conversing with anyone from Israel who would talk to me. (It’s hard to explain the deep gratitude, brotherhood and connection we Diaspora Jews feel with Israelis, especially now.)

When I asked one traveler if he was from Israel, the smile left his face as he nodded and steadied himself for what I might say next. Me too, I hurriedly explained, not wishing to worry him. His face showed relief and the smile returned.

I had multiple versions of the same conversation – introductions, then asking them how they were faring. Unsurprisingly, they were more subdued and quiet than usual. They asked if there was antisemitism in Australia, which I answered reluctantly, yes, a great deal. I could sense their weariness, their aloneness and imagined how depressing it must be to hear more bad news for Jews.

I exchanged WhatsApp numbers with Yehuda, who cried as he told me about his son, in the IDF Airforce. He told me of his guilt of being on a holiday and leaving home during a war, and that his 26-year-old son told him: “Dad, if you don’t live your life, then they (Hamas) have won. Go on a holiday and enjoy.”

Liat, a therapist from Tel Aviv, told me proudly about her son in the Iron Dome unit and her daughter, selected to join IDF Intelligence. We marveled at the resilience of Israelis, the demise of the government and the enormous, collective trauma facing the nation.

What struck me about all my encounters was that no Israeli knew how much they were in fact not alone. They were comforted to hear about our Aussie Jewish community, known for its strong Jewish identity, its connection to Israel, and its fervent belief in Zionism.

Since October 7, our community has been highly activated, under threat, yes, but also proud, vocal, and unified. I described the Hasbara many of us are continually engaged with through our local Members of Parliament, local media, the corporate sector, and the wider community.

Repeatedly, I showed them footage of our organized vigils for Israeli women, our city’s walls plastered with Bring Them Home posters, and our school kids waving Israeli flags and singing at Yom HaAtzmaut celebrations. They were stunned to see our youth dancing and singing in the streets in an impromptu celebration when Noa, Almog, Shlomo, and Andrey were rescued. They simply had no idea we cared as deeply as we do.

I told them about the dozens of Australian Jews visiting Israel on missions each month, our fundraising for ambulances, supplies, food, evacuated families, and, more recently, even a planned trip for Israeli teens from the South to visit Australia.

I found the same incredulity about the depth of the Australian connection on a mission I participated in earlier this year. Locals were astounded that we had left our families and relative safety to fly from the other side of the world to a country at war, only five months after October 7. We explained we came to see, listen and bear witness. We constantly found ourselves in a merry-go-round of thank you’s from the people – theirs saying thank you for coming, ours saying thank you for fighting for our children too.

Many Israelis seem to have no idea our community exists, let alone how it continues to rally. Each week, we march, we protest, we advocate, we raise funds, organize events, speakers, webinars — our focus is twofold: supporting Israel, and fortifying our embattled community the modern mutation of antisemitism: anti Zionism. We do so because a fire in our bellies has been lit since 10/7, and because we feel the connection to Israel deeply in our Jewish psyches.

All I can say, to my fellow, beloved Israelis: you are not alone. We feel what you feel. We are inspired by your determination, and we sense your brokenness. Your strength inspires us and keeps us going. Don’t give up. And until we see you on the beaches of Tel Aviv, G’day, Sawasdee, and Shalom.