Still overwhelmed with trauma, Israelis transition to rebuilding.

“The real significance of this war is that it is for you as well as for us, and not only for the Jewish People but for protecting the free world.”

A woman walking on the boardwalk in Tel Aviv, Israel (photo: Aharon Luria/Unsplash)

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This is a guest essay written by Gary Rosenblatt of Between The Lines.

You can also listen to the podcast version of this essay on Apple Podcasts, YouTube Music, YouTube, and Spotify.

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“We are a nation of lions, led by asses.”

That colorful quote from an IDF soldier pretty much sums up the sentiment of people, from political experts to ordinary citizens, whom I met in Israel during a recent trip there.

This quote reflects their anger and frustration with the terrible failure of the government, army, and security services leading to October 7th, as well as pride in the remarkable resilience of a society that rebounded with one heart from the shocking tragedy.

Since October 8th, countless volunteer projects have been launched and continue to care for the country’s bereaved and displaced citizens and provide meals and gear for their beloved IDF.

One positive outcome from this tragic situation is that many Jews from around the world, and especially the United States, have taken up the cause and contributed not only financially but by participating in Israeli volunteer efforts and creating their own, providing IDF units everything from thermal underwear and headlamps, to pizza and beef jerky, a favorite with the soldiers.

Beyond that, missions to Israel sponsored by Jewish Diaspora federations, synagogues, communities, and various organizations have been continuous for weeks. They often include tours of a stricken kibbutz, meetings with survivors of the attack, visits to wounded soldiers in hospitals, and opportunities to help farmers gather crops and/or volunteer in chesed (Hebrew for “kindness”) projects for those in need.

Recently, my wife and I joined more than a dozen lay leaders on United Jewish Appeal-Jewish Federation of New York mission for an afternoon that opened with Ari Shavit, a leading Israeli journalist and author, offering an insightful analysis of the unprecedented challenges Jerusalem faces in a conflict he calls “The Battle for Israel.”

He asserted that 2024 will be “the most important year in Israeli history,” a “make-or-break moment” to rebuild the country. That will require bringing “forces of realism into the political process,” fighting extremism and cynicism, and supporting a vision for Gaza that would offer “an Arab solution.”  

A self-defined “passionate centrist,” Shavit said the prospect of Israel controlling Gaza’s population of more than two million people, with many weapons and “angry young men,” would sap Israel of its energy and was a non-starter. He called for a plan being discussed in Washington that would have countries like Saudi Arabia and the United Arab Emirates — with billions of dollars, success in countering radical Islam, and skills in building modern societies — lead the way in a kind of Marshall Plan for Gaza.

“The real significance of this war is that it is for you as well as for us,” Shavit told us, “and not only for the Jewish People but for protecting the free world” (from the global threat of countries like Iran, Russia, and China).

Israel needs Diaspora Jews to step up and help ensure the survival and growth of the state as both democratic and Jewish, Shavit said.

“We are family,” he added. “Don’t be shy.” 

Huge Space, Huge Heart

Our next stop was the giant Tel Aviv Expo warehouse, which became a civilian command center of the national all-volunteer effort on October 9th, and has never stopped providing seemingly anything and everything needed for soldiers, displaced families, and others in need.

Launched by the organization Brothers In Arms, the group of IDF veterans who organized the pre-October 7th huge weekly rallies against the Israeli government’s efforts at judicial reform, changed its name — now Brothers and Sisters for Israel — and its objective, from protest to providing goods and services, almost overnight.

With 15,000 volunteers, it has become the largest civic aid organization in the country, a tangible symbol of the flexibility, creativity, empathy, and resolve across Israeli society.

Yonatan Tomkin, who is a civil engineer, now devotes full-time as the Expo warehouse manager. He guided us through the enormous underground space, which was a parking lot before the war.

Since the Expo effort recently pivoted from emergency responses to long-term projects like education for young children and agricultural initiatives, there are far fewer volunteers needed in the warehouse these days. Nonetheless, we got a sense of the huge scope of the project when we saw, in just one area, rows and rows of men’s and women’s clothing, household goods, kitchen equipment, car seats, and baby strollers.

Tomkin explained that the volunteers take great pains to make sure the products are in excellent condition. In preparing the used toys, for example, jigsaw puzzles are checked to make sure no pieces are missing, dolls are washed and cleaned, and each item is packaged like new for the “toy store.”

“Many of these items are going to people who are not poor, but are middle-class and have been displaced,” he said, emphasizing the importance of honoring the dignity of each recipient.

Tomkin expressed gratitude for the outpouring of volunteers and donations, many from the Diaspora, who made the whole effort possible.

Mark Medin, the United Jewish Appeal-Jewish Federation of New York executive vice president who staffed the mission, told participants that the charity has provided grants totaling $1.24 million to Brothers and Sisters for Israel since the war began.

The “Brothers in Arms” command center at the Tel Aviv Expo (photo: Davidkad/Wikipedia)

The Fruits of Our Labor

Everywhere we went in Israel, we were thanked for visiting in this time of need, and there is a palpable sense of am echad (Hebrew for “one people” or “one nation”) connecting Diaspora and Israeli Jews at a time when the gap between them had been growing wider.

One day we spent a few hours in the industrial neighborhood of Givat Shaul, joining about 20 other volunteers, most from America, at a non-profit, Tachlit, to pack boxes of fruits and vegetables on a make-shift assembly line. Once we got the hang of it and had a brisk rhythm going, there was a feeling of accomplishment among us as we filled about 130 boxes with lemons, oranges, bananas, cucumbers, potatoes, a small jar of pesto, and a sleeve of garlic.

(About half of the produce is donated by Leket Israel, the nation’s leading food rescue organization founded by Joseph Gitler, a Jewish American immigrant from New Jersey.)

David Amor, the foreman who gave us our instructions in a no-nonsense style, softened considerably at the end of our shift. He and Aaron Cohen, who established the charity 25 years ago, explained how they strive to match needs and sources in providing five-kilogram (12-pound) food boxes for more than 1,500 families a week, a number that has increased dramatically since October 7th.

Tachlit also holds prayer services every day on the second floor of the building, and hosts Torah study and the recital of kaddish every night for victims of the Israel-Hamas-Hezbollah war.

The two men noted that they have about 400 volunteers helping each week, and thanked us all graciously for our help.

“We appreciate the warm heart of Diaspora Jews,” said Amor. “We are not asking for charity but for partnership.”

Fissures Starting to Show

There is a new level of humility among Israelis now, a recognition of the complete failure of the government, military, and security services leading to the October 7th tragedy. Plus, a greater appreciation of Diaspora Jewry sharing their pain as am echad, one family, in addition to financial and political support.

People here acknowledge they are still in shock, grieving, and feeling unsafe almost 11 months after the barbaric Hamas-led massacres, unsure of even the immediate future. We share with them our prayers and support as their brave sons and daughters do battle, while thousands of families from Israel’s south and north live as refugees in their own country.

Israelis, in turn, express to us their deep concern about the unprecedented spike in antisemitism in the Diaspora, asking if we feel safe in our own neighborhoods. 

Diaspora and Israeli Jews are bonding like we never have before, but sadly, the stronger connections are from our new, shared fears and feelings of vulnerability. It took a horrific war to unite Israelis who were teetering on the edge of a civil war this past year, and to bring a higher degree of understanding and appreciation within Israeli and Diaspora Jewish communities, one for the other.

How long will Israeli solidarity last? It’s hard to say. Already there are fissures within the society as the war grinds on without any dramatic victory or clarity of what “mission accomplished” could mean.

Within the Orthodox world, there is a growing resentment and anger over the large ultra-Orthodox community’s overall resistance to Israel’s army service. The Religious Zionists, whose sons combine yeshiva learning and army service, are over-represented in the IDF, and among those who have fallen in the war. But only a very small percentage of exempt ultra-Orthodox young men choose to serve in the army, and some are shunned in their communities for joining.

In recent weeks, an open letter signed by hundreds of Religious Zionist mothers whose sons are in the IDF, called on ultra-Orthodox mothers to urge their sons to fulfill a moral obligation and serve. The letter’s tone is empathetic, not angry, which makes its message all the more poignant.

Written with a “trembling hand and broken heart,” it acknowledges that many ultra-Orthodox women are praying for the soldiers and hostages, while participating in various efforts to support the soldiers, their families, and those who have been displaced. But that is not enough, the letter says. It reads, in part: 

“We are … aware that you, like the whole of ultra-Orthodox society, attach great importance to Torah study and see in it a supreme value and even assistance in safeguarding the people of Israel. But none of these can replace enlisting in the IDF. This is the Jewish, moral and civil duty of anyone who wishes to live here. The absence of that standard constitutes a distinction between blood and blood. This reality is no longer bearable.”

“It is impossible to live here without an army, and we are all responsible for one another: it cannot be that others will take risks and risk their children for me, when I and my children will not take risks for them. My blood is not redder than theirs.”

Tellingly, the letter says the appeal is aimed at mothers — rather than ultra-Orthodox rabbinic leaders — because it is futile to change their minds.

A make-shift canvas tunnel at Hostages Square in Tel Aviv, to give the feeling of the darkness that the hostages have endured (photo: Yossipik/Wikipedia)

Everyone wants to save hostages — but at what price?

The most significant challenge to maintaining unity in wartime is over the fate of the remaining 100-plus hostages.

Some, including Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, insist that the best and only way to rescue them is to press on with the fighting in Gaza. Others, led by some of the families of those  kidnapped, have run out of patience and are calling more vocally for prioritizing a ceasefire that would free their loved ones.

With it all, there is minimal information on the condition of the hostages, or whether they are alive, and no clear method of how the IDF could save them.

It is a heart-breaking dispute, and hovering over it is the unspoken recognition that Hamas is calling the shots here, relying on the inherent humanity of Israeli society — and Hamas’ utter disregard for their own people’s suffering — to burden Jerusalem with an unsolvable problem for this traumatized nation.

Every Israeli wants the hostages home. But some people feel that the greater the campaign to “bring them home,” the more precious the hostages are to Hamas, redoubling their efforts to keep them. Perhaps a more effective slogan would be “let them go” in order to rightly put the onus where it belongs, on Hamas.

In private conversations, some here say that however thrilling emotionally it would be to make a deal and have the hostages freed, the conclusion among Israel’s enemies would be that kidnappings are the Jewish state’s “Achilles heel” — and Israel’s enemies would double their efforts to capture more soldiers and civilians. So, some Israelis say, making a deal for these 100-plus suffering souls could well lead to the suffering of countless more in the future.

There is unavoidable logic to that argument, but a visit to Hostages Square in the center of Tel Aviv offers a powerful confrontation with the anguish and suffering of the families in limbo that breaks your heart.

There was a large tent and smaller ones where relatives sit in a circle and are joined by friends and visitors. Some sit quietly, some offer words of comfort, and often there is singing. The distinct feeling is of a shiva home, but one realizes these family members do not have the solace of boundaries offered by seven days of mourning. Their grief is ongoing, mixed with the constant anxiety of the unknown, and the fear that they may never know the fate of their loved ones.

There is the now-iconic, endlessly long table with settings for those who are missing; a make-shift canvas tunnel to give the feeling of the darkness the hostages endure; and various forms of art to convey the plight of those kidnapped, including a large hourglass reminding us of the urgency at hand.

People come and go, quietly exploring the large physical area as well as encountering the small space inside you that offers a new definition of despair.

The Power of Laughter

With it all, Israelis do their best to go on with their daily lives, which includes laughter. So it seemed only fitting after visiting Hostage Square for us to attend in Jerusalem a sold-out performance of Comedy For Koby, featuring four American stand-up veterans: Avi Liberman, Brian Kiley, Butch Bradley, and Peter Berman.

It was the last of their six performances around the country, sponsored by the Koby Mandell Foundation, named for the 13-year-old American-Israeli boy who, along with a friend, was brutally murdered by Palestinian terrorists in the spring of 2001 near his home in Judea and Samaria (also known as the West Bank).

The foundation is the largest provider of support services for bereaved parents, widows, siblings, and orphans whose loved ones were the victims of Palestinian terrorism. It has held therapy sessions for widows of soldiers killed in Gaza, and is planning a program for children who have lost a parent or parents, in addition to its many ongoing retreats and therapeutic programs.

The comics were in fine form and kept the audience in high spirits throughout. Most memorable, though, were the post-performance comments on stage of Butch Bradley, a veteran of these shows, and Peter Berman, who had not been in Israel before. They each expressed their admiration, love, and support for the people of Israel, which meant so much to the audience.

Koby’s parents, Seth and Sherri Mandell, who transformed their personal grief into helping others, believe that laughter can be a way to defeat those who want us to suffer. 

“This show is important,” said Sherri, “because even in very difficult times, we need to know that sadness and happiness are sisters — they are not opposites. And by laughing, we keep up the morale of the home front.”

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