Volunteering in Israel in a Time of War
This is Part Two of a three-part series about my love affair with Israel. See part 1
My love affair for Israel propelled me towards an idea to spend winters in Tel Aviv. In 2023 I found an adorable apartment right next to the Carmel Shuk on a pedestrian mall that hosts the Nachalat Binyamin juried craft market twice a week. People asked me, “Why are you going? What will you do?” And it’s then that I began blogging about people I knew, how I met them, and how their families came to Israel.
After October 7, I wasn’t sure whether I would come back to Tel Aviv in 2024. As the National Hadassah co-chair of Engagement, I had two different trips scheduled with over 50 women to travel to Israel in October. I waited and watched to see what was happening in the world. I cried with my Israeli friends, checking in on them daily and worrying about their children in the army. I wrote letters of support, attended local rallies and vigils, and watched the news. Even before October 7th, I called myself an “armchair” advocate because I always write letters, send emails, and sign petitions. I stood on the Washington lawn and rallied for Soviet Jews in the winter of 1987. I remember towards the end of the day that my friends had left and I was surrounded by strangers, yet we all put our arms around each other and sang Hatikva and I felt that I was part of something much bigger. I think it was my first understanding of “Klal Yisrael”. I had no idea I’d be back in 2023 with over 300,000 people protesting the atrocities of October 7 and pleading for the return of the hostages.
When our Evolve team decided to plan a mission to go to Israel in February, right when I was starting my “snowbird” time, I decided that I would not only co-lead the trip, I would also stay for my 6 weeks and volunteer my time. I had to go as it felt important to bear witness to the atrocities of October 7. The world was denying the true horror of what happened and blaming Israel. I would stand with my Hadassah sisters in solidarity with the people of Israel.
We purposely planned a trip that was hands-on through volunteer opportunities and meeting people. I assigned everyone an emotional support buddy, someone you could tap at any time for a hug and a shoulder to cry on as we heard the unbelievable. We processed what we were seeing and feeling over breakfast each day.
We started and ended at hostage square in Tel Aviv. A place where hostage families come together to tell their stories, art exhibits are on display, and there’s a rally every Saturday night. I can’t convey the sadness and heaviness of all the people there. I can only tell you that one of the hostages’ grandchildren got on stage and begged for him to come home. I was translating for a friend and burst into tears at the end.
We volunteered at a food pantry packing vegetables and moving boxes from place to place. We worked alongside Israeli soldiers who are usually on border control at Gaza. They were ages 18-20, and were black, brown, blonde, and Asian.
We heard experiences of October 7 from Shlomi, the head of the pantry. He wept as he shared the responses of his kindergarten students from Sederot and the horrors they witnessed. He lost 22 friends/family during the unthinkable day. (Some are calling it Black Shabbat and others say you can’t say Shabbat in the same breath as it takes away the peace of our holy day,)
We went to the site of the Nova music festival massacre. On tu’bshevat, the holiday of the trees, a tree was planted for every victim. To be honest, it looked like freshly dug graves. I circled the sign posts of each victim with their photo, their age, and messages from loved ones. Each sign stated if the victim was killed or kidnapped. It’s still hard to process what we saw.
We visited Kibbutz Be’eri, where a member of the security team shared his nightmare from October 7. An excerpt from my reflection:
Yarden an avocado farmer spoke about his experience from the day of the unthinkable
with
tears in his
eyes
Flowers and lemon
trees
in front of scorched buildings that looked like a movie set with
items
Strewn about the yard
We learned that each item was scoured for dna to identify if
Someone was
dead
Or kidnapped
there were 4 young soldiers digging through the earth looking for
body parts
Cats wandered about and bathed in the sun I wonder what they
Witnessed
Scorch marks from burnt
cars
I saw ghosts
of children
running and playing on
the lawn while listening to a
Voicemail of a
woman
begging for help from Magan David
adom
At Har Herzl, the military cemetery, there are countless new graves of young soldiers killed in action. They purposely put the graves in different sections to make room for all the mourners that come daily. I couldn’t breathe when I saw someone with my daughter’s birthdate, he was only 24.
While shopping in the ancient Cardo in Jerusalem, I chatted with the shopkeeper. A father of three young girls, he mentioned he’d been away for 3 months. Not thinking, I asked where he was. “Aza” (Hebrew for Gaza), he replied. I touched his arm and asked meaningfully, “ How are you doing?”. With tears in his eyes he said, “If I can put it in a “box” and not think about it….I’m ok.” I cried right alongside him and asked if I could give him a hug. He thanked us for coming to Israel in this difficult time.
At a bar in Machane Yehuda, the outdoor market in Jerusalem, we joked with the handsome young bartender. He gave us tastes of different beers and asked, “What are you doing in Israel right now? No one is coming.” We told him about our trip and mentioned where we had been. He said, “I also was in Kibbutz Be’eri, on October 8th.” And pulled out his phone to show us pictures. We cried with him too.
In Israel today, when you ask someone how they are, a common response is “B’seder Hachadash”, The new ok. The new ok is that while many people are going about their lives; shopping in the shuk, playing on the beach, and sitting in cafes, there is an undercurrent of intense, indescribable grief.
At our last processing time I shared that I hoped by listening to the people we met, Yarden, Shlomi, the shopkeeper, the families of the hostages, the displaced women in a hotel, and the bartender, maybe just maybe, by sharing their experiences with us, we took a small part of their grief from them. “Rabbi Abba son of Rabbi Hanina taught: The one who visits a sick person, takes away 1/60 of that person’s pain.” (Babylonia Talmud) And while I was so scared to come and bear witness, I felt that I had taken a small role in rebuilding my beloved country.
After the group left, I stayed on in my apartment and volunteered for the next 5 weeks. To be continued….