The same but different

This summer I had the wonderful opportunity to come back to Israel. I’ll admit, I was a little nervous. I have a tendency to be around the corner from dangerous, life-threatening situations, but I was committed to going. I couldn’t imagine that I would be staying a block away from the drone that struck on Ben Yehuda street in Tel Aviv. I couldn’t imagine I would be finishing my program when Israel assassinated two arch terrorists in Lebanon and Iran. I couldn’t imagine that the airlines would again be cancelling flights. However, I knew I needed to be there this summer, just as I knew I needed to go last winter.

In January, I came to Israel on a Solidarity mission with Hadassah, the Women’s Zionist Organization of America. The people on my trip were diehard Zionists and stalwart supporters of Israel. We felt the pain of October 7th as if we had gone through it ourselves. Actually, Rhoda Smolow, our immediate past national president, had arrived in Israel on the morning of October 7th and truly felt the agony that the people of Israel experienced when Hamas invaded our sovereign Jewish nation, and viciously murdered, tortured, raped, burned and kidnapped over 1500 innocent people. She experienced the horrors in person, while we experienced them from a distance. She was in the hospital visiting victims of that black Shabbat as a true Hadassah President.

When I arrived this July, I wondered how I would feel. How would this trip be different? I was there with a specific purpose: to finish my master’s degree in Jewish education at the Hebrew University Melton School of Education. I would be focused on completing my studies, but I would also have the opportunity to visit my family, friends and my Hadassah and Jewish Federation family. What would be different this time?

What I immediately noticed when I arrived was that the airport was a tiny bit more crowded, but basically the same. The same memorials to the hostages met me when I got off the plane. The same posters of the missing. However, those posters were now filled with many messages of love and resolve. I also knew the faces. I had heard their stories. They are real people to me now. I feel personally connected to them.

What I noticed as I was driving to Tel Aviv was that the posters proclaiming “Together we will win!” were now discolored. Yellowed from the weather and the 6 months since I was here. The Israeli flags adorning so many buildings were torn and tattered. There was a feeling that this war was going on much too long. In January, although it was already three months long, it seemed so new, but now…

Similar to January, one of my first stops on this trip was to Hostage Square. It was a sunny, hot day. My daughters and I walked over and were viewing all the installations. There were many more exhibits in bright yellow for the hostages. However, there were also many signs of wear. The table set for the hostages is now purposely completely gray, as if covered in soot from the tunnels. There is a makeshift tunnel to walk through to experience a hint of what the hostages must be experiencing in their significantly more distress, fear, uncertainty. There’s a sign counting the days, hours, minutes and seconds. The space has grown tremendously since January. How can we still be here? It’s so much worse…

I went back to Kikar Dizengoff to see the fountain that is now a memorial to those lost and those taken hostage. It’s filled with even more mementos, but many of them are worn from the weather and the time passing. While people take moments to look at all the photos, other people are enjoying the cafes and restaurants surrounding the square. Life is going on, but it’s also staying still.

When I arrived at Hebrew University, we were fortunate to have a seminar with Rachel Korazim, a renowned Jewish educator who has a specialty in interpreting Israeli poetry as a tool to view Israeli society. She shared some of the poetry that has been written in the aftermath of October 7th. One of the poems she shared particularly stuck with me.

Illusion
By Michael Zats

Amazing
How everything looks
Unchanged,
Even
When nothing
Remained
The same.

That’s how I feel. I feel like the Israel I went to this summer, was the same, but different. The tattered pictures and road signs all have the same messages, but they’re frayed. Just like the many people I met. They need to live. They need to go on. But it’s so difficult.

Ultimately, all of us, Jews in Israel and Jews in the Diaspora, need to keep on living. We must be resolute. We need to survive and thrive. We need to be the light unto the nations who never gives up. The Jewish people have met this kind of adversity before in our history. It’s not new to us. We’ve survived horrors no other people have been able to survive. We continue to share the best of ourselves. Now is no different. We must be resilient and stalwart in the face of our enemies. We need to be united in combatting the hate that envelopes us from all corners of the world. We need to stand for what’s right and just. We must focus on bringing our hostages home and ending the war. Our goals have not changed. We will persevere and continue to fight for our People. Our right to live freely in Israel, our biblical homeland is not an “Illusion”.