Thanks to the Board of Directors of the Jewish Federation of Greater Ann Arbor, I spent the month of July in Israel on a mini sabbatical from my role as the organization’s CEO. In the August WJN, I shared my reflections of the first part of my experience – my participation in the Shalom Hartman Institute’s week-long Community Leadership Program themed “Israel Tomorrow.” You can read this story at www.jewishannarbor.org/news-events/blog.
During the remainder of the month, I traveled in Israel – as far south as Mitzpe Ramon and as far north as Rosh Pina – visiting friends and relatives, volunteering, attending protests, and witnessing the important work of Federation’s Israeli funding partners and how they have been impacted by the events of the past ten months. I also enjoyed a little “me time” – reading, hiking, sightseeing, and reconnecting with the people, culture, and language of Israel.
The Mood
Israel this summer was a strange combination of normality and trauma. To be clear – Israel is not in a state of “post-trauma.” Until the hostages are home, until communities in the north can return to their lives, and until daily rocket fire in the north and the south ceases, all Israelis are in a state of trauma. It is difficult to find someone who is not touched by the current situation.
That said, in Tel Aviv, Jerusalem and throughout much of the country, restaurants and shops are open and busy. Families are spending summer vacations together at the beach or celebrating simchas. I visited a couple of wineries where other visitors – and there were a lot of them – included a bachelorette party and a group of young men who had recently been serving in Gaza having a bit of normal life on a Friday afternoon. While there were certainly far fewer tourists and tour busses, I did run into teen tours from the US (and Israel) in places I least expected – such as what I thought were going to be quiet and solitary hikes in Ein Avdat in the Negev and in the Carmel Mountains. And I met tourists from around the world volunteering in Tel Aviv, and at the Kotel Tunnel Tours in Jerusalem.
Yet, signs of the situation are everywhere. At Dizengoff Square, where the cafes are full, the fountain is full of photos, memorabilia and signs remembering civilians and soldiers killed on October 7 and since. Most road overpasses and many buildings have huge banners: “Bring them Home,” “Failure: Elections Now,” and “Together we will win,” which featured the Israeli and Druze flags.” At Tel Aviv University one haunting sign was of a mirror and said, “Kidnapped. This could have been any one of us.” There were hostage photos tied to each palm tree at the beach promenade and a moving display of hostages and the books they love at the new National Library of Israel. At traffic circles, junctions, and entry to communities throughout the country, there were art installations of yellow chairs, yellow ribbons, and empty strollers and bikes.
Signs of trauma are not just visual. In my many conversations with friends and relatives – none of whom happen to be settlers or Bibi supporters—I heard despair, anger and pessimism. There were similar sentiments expressed during my short visit in March, but four months later, people are, justifiably, tired and frustrated that their passionate protests have not resulted in a hostage or ceasefire agreement, nor in a fall of the government. People have described the current situation as “a nightmare,” or “it’s so bad, it’s just so bad.” Most people who I asked said they did not think the government would fall any time soon, leading several to consider following friends who have left Israel, unless there is a significant change.
Israelis are also very worried about us. Most asked me if I was experiencing antisemitism and what is going on with at university campuses. The upcoming US election was also causing consternation and uncertainty about what would come next.
While the mood below the surface is dark, and disturbing to this lover of Israel, the sense of determination and resilience I experienced provides a hopeful counter point. I witnessed much of that hope and strength during visits with our funding partners, about which I will share in the future.
Protests for the Hostages/Against the Government
Protest in Jerusalem
It may be counter-intuitive, but I did find hope and positivity in the protests that take place throughout Israel each and every Saturday night. Although there is a lot of frustration that the government does not act on the will of the masses, the presence and fortitude of the protesters, week in and week out, is reason for optimism. Over the course of the month, I participated in four protests in four different cities, and I was struck by the similarities and stark differences – particularly in the vibe of each protest.
Protest in Kfar Saba
My first protest experience took place in Jerusalem. The crowd there was very diverse – religious, secular, young, and old. It was rowdy and noisy, but not unruly. Drummers led a march through the street, and there was a constant buzz of vuvuzelas. Signs included posters of the hostages, Israeli flags and a variety of slogans and emotional speeches with urgent calls for a hostage agreement and ceasefire, and strong – even angry – demands for the government to step down. In Jerusalem and elsewhere, criticism of the government and PM Netanyahu was met with chants of “Busha” (Shame); calls for leaders to do more to bring the hostages home (as well as for the government to fall) elicited loud demands of “Achshav” (Now).
The next week I was in Kfar Saba, about 30 minutes north of Tel Aviv, and the contrast between the two experiences was stark. The group assembled in a large community plaza near a shopping center, was primarily secular, and mostly over the age of 50 – and that is generous. There were no posters and just a few vuvuzelas, and the plaza was awash in blue and white flags. While there were similar speeches and chants, I would describe the protest as “staid.” As was the case at every protest, we ended with singing of Hatikvah. I found it particularly moving that, regardless of the heated, angry messages at each gathering, they ended with unity and hope.
Protest in Carmiel Junction
Protest in Tel Aviv
The protest at Carmiel Junction, on the road separating the lower and upper Galilee, was altogether different. Protesters of many ages banged incessantly for half an hour on metal guard rails on the side of the road and in the traffic island. I was glad to have listened to my hosts who recommended I bring ear plugs. In addition to Israeli flags, I saw a collection of Pride, yellow (for the hostages) and Druze flags. The speakers, including Member of Knesset Naama Lazimi, and the son of 85 year-old Arieh Zalmanovich, a hostage from Nir Oz who died in captivity in Gaza, were passionate when speaking about the failures of the government and the need to bring their loved ones, dead or alive, back in Israel.
Unsurprisingly, the protests in Tel Aviv had the highest production value. At the Hostage Square gathering, famous Israeli actor, Lior Ashkenazi, emceed the program, and Shimon Buskila, a popular composer and performer sang. Families of the hostages served as a backdrop to the speakers, and instead of flags, almost every sign contained photos of hostages and slogans to bring them home now. One of the most moving moments was when the name of each hostage was read by a speaker and repeated by the crowd – 116 names. The energy of this rally was particularly moving, especially given the presence of so many hostage families and friends. Throughout the month, I thought about how exhausting attending rallies each week must be, especially for those families. But they will tell you – they have no other choice than to continue this fight.
Helping out in small ways
It was important to me to contribute, in some way, to the national effort of supporting the hostage families, the evacuees, and the soldiers who are all bearing the brunt of this war.
In Tel Aviv, I volunteered with Eran’s Angels, a social service agency that serves the food insecure, Holocaust survivors and others in need. Since October 7, they have operated a huge warehouse in a parking garage where they accept and distribute clothing, and a range of other items for evacuees and soldiers. I joined Israelis and tourists from around the world for a morning of sorting items and packaging bedding for evacuees.
I spent a morning in Migdal Ha’Emek at the Northern command for Brothers & Sisters in Arms cutting and preparing mesh to serve as shade and mosquito netting for soldiers serving in the north. I also had the opportunity to see the beginnings of a project our greater Ann Arbor community has supported: an ice cream truck that serves ice cream to soldiers on the front.
I was asked by our Partnership2Gether office if I would be willing to visit Tzfat and a hotel housing evacuees in the North. My response was that if there were people living there, I couldn’t say “no” to a visit. Unfortunately, the 68,000 evacuees from the North and those who have not been evacuated but who face regular danger from Hezbollah, feel they have been abandoned by their government, by the rest of Israel, and by us. It was essential that I witness and support those Israelis who have been living under fire and who have been evacuated from their homes since October 7 with no clarity at all as to when they may go home or – at the very least – a plan for the coming school year for their children.
At the Partnership2Gether office in Tzfat, my colleague opened the window to a view of Mt. Meron, which, the previous night, had been the target of over 82 rockets. Imagine the people of Tzfat managing with limited sleep and constant stress. Since October 7, 35 people have been injured and 5 killed by over 5,600 rockets and drones fired from Lebanon and Syria. More than a thousand houses and businesses have been destroyed and direct damage to property is estimated to be more than $400 million – this in the region of Israel with one of the lowest socio-economic levels in the country. I visited with evacuees from Kfar Yuval who have been living in a luxury spa hotel in Rosh Pina, which now feels more like an apartment building, for almost ten months. Elder residents were uprooted from their homes and routines; mothers, whose partners are on reserve duty, are living in small rooms with their children and are at their wit’s end; and many have lost their businesses and jobs. All the while, they still live under constant fear of rocket fire.
During my visit to the North, I didn’t feel like there was much I could do to contribute. But I was thanked repeatedly for coming when no one else would; I think my presence did make a difference. And I promised I would share their story and bring awareness back to our community which I am proud to do and will continue to do so.
Final thoughts – for now
As I write this article, Israel is braced for a retaliation from Iran or its proxies, foreign air carriers have stopped flying to Israel, and Israelis are celebrating their Olympic team which has won a record six medals at the Olympic Games in Paris (so far). A colleague reports that, with the exception of the lack of tourists, Jerusalem seems quite normal. It appears to be more of the same – a combination of stress, trauma, and a strange normalcy that is impossible to imagine from afar. I’m grateful for the opportunity to experience it first-hand and to share my impressions with the community.
If you’d like to have coffee and hear more about my time in Israel, please email me at eileenfreed@jewishannarbor.org.