The Layered Complexities of Life in Israel

Visiting Israel for 2.5 days is a foolish thing to do, under the best of circumstances. These days, some individuals – especially those who rely on (legacy) media – would say it’s too intense, bordering on insane. But, after an absence of more than a decade, arriving in a country in the throes of war, with nearly 60 hostages still held captive in Gaza, and under the daily threat of rockets and missiles, I was under no illusions; even though I had lived and traveled there often and had a ticket for October 8, 2023, this journey would be unlike any other.

Tel Aviv beach. All photos by author.

Not surprisingly, Tel Aviv was drenched in sunshine, and no less vibrant than it has ever been, humming with energy and activity. The beaches, cafes, restaurants spilled over with Israelis and tourists of every age, ethnicity and language. Cars, buses, scooters, bicycles, delivery bikes and cabs clogged up many intersections, even though many streets were blocked off due to the construction of the light rail system. Trees were in bloom, music was in the air and oversized fluorescent-colored notices for cultural events were pasted on surfaces everywhere. Tel Aviv thrums with the unmistakable pulse of lives intentionally-lived.

And yet, everything this time is different. You step off the plane, walk through the spacious expanses of Ben Gurion Airport, and reach the cavernous stone-and-glass hallway, where you encounter the large “Bring Home Now” sign and exhibit of dangling dog-tags.  In Tel Aviv itself, as in the airport, the staggering reality reveals itself at every corner; yellow ribbons and Israeli flags of every size, posters of hostages, political placards, stickers memorializing dead hostages and soldiers. On walls, on windows, tied onto bushes and trees, hanging from branches and balconies. On t-shirts and hoodies, on backpacks and strollers. The city’s palette, once blue and white, is now suffused with yellow, red and black.

During my stay, I revel in everyday joys: I go to Jaffa and the Tel Aviv Port, walk for hours with a friend along the beach and through Neve Tzedek, drink coffee at Aroma, nibble zatar pita at Abulafia, and savor brunch at Achim.

But I also undertake three pilgrimages to Hostage Square, to listen, to watch, and to learn more about the horrors and losses, all of which still feel incomprehensible. The Empty Shabbat Table. Photos of hostages – alive and dead. A huge pile of stuffed animals and toys for the Bibas boys. Candles. Ribbons. Wishes. Sorrows. The time clock – over 500 days. All. That. Waiting. And prayers. And posters. And protests. And hope…

Even when I am off-site, the hostages’ ongoing predicament is not, will not, be avoided in every single conversation – with foreigners and locals alike. Not a single friendly encounter ends without the parting words: (We are waiting for) good news… and may the hostages come home already.

Sometime during my brief sojourn, some complicated and unassailable truths come to mind:

Israelis are accustomed to living on the edge; through defensive wars, waves of terrorist attacks and other existential crises. But their fortitude, resilience and equanimity (for those who can find it) has never been tested as much as it has since the invasion and massacres of October 7^th.

Israelis live bifurcated lives. On the surface, you might think a group young Israeli men hanging out on the beach, smoking and flirting with svelte bikini-clad women are living the high life. But you will have to scratch the surface, wait patiently and listen very quietly to hear that they are on a preciously-short break from reserve duty in Gaza, or that their best friends were blown up last week. Gazing at them from a distance, you won’t intuit that they came close to being burnt alive in their grandparents’ kibbutz home or that their younger sibling was murdered at the Nova festival. You will not know thousands of other stories of unseen pain and suffering, because all Israelis have been impacted and impaired in one way or another, because all Israelis have survived a national trauma and because the vast majority – whether from injuries sustained, homes burnt, relatives murdered, families displaced, jobs and businesses lost – are in a perpetual limbo, still unable to rebuild their lives after the inferno.

Even in this city that never sleeps, Israelis live under a cloud of unyielding uncertainty which includes the ever-present threat of imminent rocket and missile attacks; with moments to spare, a red alert sent us ducking into a bomb shelter the first night we arrived and into a stairwell less than an hour before departing to the airport.

The majority of Israelis want nothing more than to live in peace – yet they are, time and again, thrust into the mudpit of war by hateful, death-obsessed neighbors; and, sadly this time, also abandoned by a leader and ministers who have no qualms and concerns for the safety of their citizens, in Israel and in Gaza.

Only one or two degrees separate an Israeli citizen from an October 7^th victim or survivor. If you misread the intensity with which Israelis live, laugh and play hard – even, or especially, in times of war, upheaval and rockets – as a mockery or dismissal of innocent deaths sustained in Gaza or Judea and Samaria./the West Bank  (and yes, of course there are exceptions), then you will not understand how the fragility of LIFE is that which emboldens them to tend to the uncertainties of tomorrow by living to the limit today.