Parties in the Shelter: Why I Long for Israel

Parties in the Shelter: Why I Long for Israe

I’ve often tried to explain why I love Israel so deeply. Why this small, battered land fills my soul in a way no other country can. It comes down to something difficult to define, yet impossible to ignore: the Israeli spirit.

It’s a spirit that embraces life, fully, wildly, unapologetically, even when rockets fall from the sky. It’s the savour vivre, the unbreakable joy of living, that refuses to be extinguished even during war. That spirit is something I miss every single day I am away from Israel. Especially when I’m in the Netherlands, my country of birth, but not of belonging.

Here in the Netherlands, when I speak from the heart and say I wish to live in Israel, or at the very least, to work for her, people look at me with confusion, even concern. “Why Israel?” they ask. “Why would you long to be in a place under constant threat? Where terror is part of daily life?”

They don’t understand. Not because they are malicious but because they’ve forgotten what it means to fight for life. They take peace for granted. We all do, in much of Europe. The Netherlands hasn’t known war on its own soil for 80 years. We enjoy safety, comfort, and convenience and yet, we’ve become discontent, restless, disconnected.

We complain about the trivial, traffic jams, late buses, long lines. We abandon tradition for what’s trendy. We’ve grown blind to the incredible privilege of freedom and prosperity. And when confronted with real threats,  terror, antisemitism, war,  we often choose to ignore, downplay, or excuse.

But in Israel, the opposite is true. There, nothing is taken for granted.

I’ve seen it with my own eyes. When sirens sound and families rush into shelters or safe rooms, something extraordinary happens. Instead of panic or despair, you often find warmth. Neighbors pray together. Children sing. Someone plays music. Someone brings tea. There are moments of laughter. And yes,  sometimes, there are even parties in the shelter.

These aren’t parties of denial. They are celebrations of resilience. They say: You won’t break us. We will live. We will dance. We will smile, even in the face of fear.

This is the essence of Israel: a country reborn from ashes, rebuilt by survivors, defended by some of the brightest, most determined people in the world. The IDF stands alert not out of love for war, but out of necessity, because Israelis know the cost of weakness. And still, they do not become bitter or cold. They love. They build. They thrive.

Israelis live with a sharp awareness of how precious each day is and that awareness gives life depth, joy, and purpose.

That’s why I love Israel. That’s why I long for her. Not in spite of the danger, but because of the way Israelis rise above it.

There’s a poem that perfectly captures this spirit and I can imagine it being whispered in one of those bomb shelters, as strangers become friends and the future is once again claimed with hope:

Live today
Be free today
Be joyful today
Set your heart free
Don’t let your joy and happiness
Depend on a hundred trivial things
Remember:
Each day is given to you
As an eternity to be happy.

Israel teaches us this: that happiness isn’t found in perfection, but in purpose. In unity. In gratitude. And in the fierce decision to choose life,  again and again.

Even in the shelter.