Reflections on the Greater Miami Jewish Federation Solidarity Mission to Israel

By Elise Udelson, Women’s Philanthropy President

Through the sad, sad eyes of those we met over the course of three days and the horrific stories they told, we tried to imagine their personal experiences of 10/7. What has been learned in the last two-plus months is that so much good is coming out of so much bad. Israelis have hope. And Israelis have unity.

Let me introduce you to some of the people we met and share some of our experiences:

Aaron, a lone soldier from Long Island, New York, at the Sheba Medical Center Rehabilitation Unit: His platoon was operating in Gaza to clear an area where they were told there were Hamas terrorists. Aaron thought he had seen shadows the night before, but couldn’t be certain and he didn’t see them again. They were going in. His commanding officer was hit by a sniper positioned on a school rooftop. Aaron used his training to try and drag the officer to a safe place and was shot in the tibia. Because he was rescued and airlifted so quickly, doctors at Sheba were able to save his leg. Later, the Air Force came and bombed the building. Aaron will spend another month at Sheba and expects to make a full recovery. But let me repeat: snipers on top of a school building. Aaron’s eyes helped tell his story.

The fifth night of Chanukah was candle-lighting at Hostage Square at the Tel Aviv Museum of Art, a place to gather family and friends of the hostages held in Gaza, artists, the locals and people like us who were simply there to show solidarity and offer support. The Empty Dinner Table Installation surely symbolizes a void and tremendous loss. Staring lengthwise down that very long table, a place set for each of the hostages, begs the question WHY? The sadness in the crowd and the fear in the eyes of those family members, uncertain of the future, was heartbreaking. But the flickering lights of the Chanukah candles we had just kindled brought hope that miracles can and do happen.

HOPE. So says the big yellow sculpture at Hostage Square. Hope is what makes Israelis so resilient. Hope is what propels them one day to the next.

On day 2, we traveled south to the Otef Aza region, stopping first to see the silent testimony of the remaining 1,200 vehicles burned at the concert that turned into a massacre. Officer Blumenthal told us they are sifting through the cars searching for particles, body parts, any evidence that can help identify the dead. As the officer was speaking, his voice was low and there were tears in his eyes. He was in visible pain. He said his grandfather, a Holocaust Survivor, was looking down at him, asking, “What happened here?”

Our next visit was less than two miles from Gaza to Kibbutz Be’eri, once a beautiful home to so many families and a beautiful way of life. You can still see untouched areas of the property where the children played and families picnicked.

Lotan, a former resident, showed us around. His pain was palpable as we stood in front of the destroyed clinic, listening to him describe the events of the morning of 10/7 and the bravery of the doctor and friends who died in the clinic. The nurse, who hid, survived. What we saw after that on our walk was unimaginable. The school, the library, homes – all destroyed, but beyond belief. Homes riddled with bullet holes. Others burned to the ground. So surreal that my husband Ronny looked at me with tears in his eyes and said, “I feel like I’m on a Universal Studios movie set. I can’t process this as reality.” It had been an all-out massacre that day.

Lotan spoke with such pride about what life was like as he showed us around. THAT was imaginable.

He lived in Be’eri with his wife, three children and in-laws. Kibbutz life was idyllic. Until, of course, 10/7, when Lotan knew terrorists had entered the kibbutz. He, his wife and their children ran to their safe room, where they sheltered for over 30 hours until the IDF rescued them.

Safe rooms are not designed to protect against terrorists. The doors don’t have locks, so they had to hold the doorknob; for many, it was 36+ hours until they were rescued. Keep in mind, they didn’t have food, water or bathroom facilities. And the doors aren’t meant to protect against gunfire. Many of the injuries people sustained were in their hands and stomachs as terrorists shot through doors.

Back to Lotan. His wife’s parents were murdered, the people he spoke so adoringly and lovingly about. Strewn all over the ground in front of their decimated home were children’s books, puzzle pieces, games and hula hoops hanging on a tree … the grandparents’ home where his children loved to play. Lotan said, “The kids loved nothing more than playing with their friends and being with their grandparents.” His eyes were filled with sadness. His appreciation of our presence was immeasurable. Federation’s Israel Representative Ofer Lichtig said, “He is the embodiment of Israeli resilience. This is the future.” Lotan said, “From all over the world, Jews know how to hug each other from over the sea. We feel the hug.” Lotan’s hug was big. It helps for him to share his stories – and he has many.

As we continued driving along Highway 232 (the now infamous highway leading to the Tribe of Nova music festival), the sun was out and it was a clear day, probably not unlike the morning of 10/7. As we arrived at the site where beautiful people just wanted to celebrate life, I tried to envision the frenzy of trying to escape the utter chaos of masked men in jeeps and on motorcycles, grabbing people, shooting people, brutalizing people. The area was all open fields — no place to run, no place to hide.

Today, the site is filled with posters that are affixed to five-foot sticks in the ground, showing the faces of those who were killed that day — beautiful faces of loved ones who are no longer here. Far too many faces are senselessly gone.

We had four young soldiers with us that day. Nadav from Boca Raton, Yuval from North Miami Beach, Joseph from Houston and Gal from Israel. Some shared their experiences. Joseph did not. He was very reserved. As we all stood outside together, just a short distance from Gaza, all of a sudden, we heard tank artillery fire — not unusual and we were told it was Israeli. Joseph jumped. It was heartbreaking. While he was in Gaza, he was shot in the neck. His jaw was shattered and his teeth were broken. Thus, his skittishness.

Nadav and his unit helicoptered from Jerusalem on 10/7 and were the first on the ground near Kibbutz Be’eri. When they landed, he was the last one out and got stuck on something inside the chopper. His commander pulled him out and within seconds the chopper was hit by Hamas and caught fire. His unit spent four days inside Be’eri fighting Hamas and rescuing people. He is 20 years old. All these brave young men are suffering from PTSD. He got a big “mom” hug from me. I think I needed it more than he did.

We had a barbecue lunch that afternoon with IDF soldiers who are reservists, some from Israel and others from all over the world. These are brave young men in uniform fighting battles in Gaza and have parents who worry about them. Some have wives and babies, are pursuing careers and putting their lives on hold to defend their country. It’s one thing to hear about war on TV. It’s another to look in the eyes of the soldiers and hear directly from them. To look into their souls and feel what they’re saying is completely different.

More gratitude. More big, long hugs.

Captain Yonatan, Israeli Air Force pilot flying F-16s, said he has “hope and pride.”

The helicopter pilot who picked up released hostages, including nine-year-old Ohad Munder, the little boy with glasses and a Rubik’s cube, was proud to share the following: “Ohad was allowed to sit in the front of the helicopter and hold the controls. He was so excited.” Ohad said, “This is the craziest thing I’ve ever done!” What a remarkable thing to hear from a child hostage.

On day 3, we met with Diego. I had met him previously in Miami along with Women’s Philanthropy Director Ofi Osin-Cohen. When we last saw him, he was holding BRING THEM HOME posters of his family being held in Gaza, the same posters that line the concourse at Ben-Gurion Airport and are plastered all over Israel begging for the return of loved ones. Diego described in detail how his sister and her two daughters were kidnapped at the concert. Karina was separated from her girls and didn’t know what happened to them. They were all taken to Gaza, where Karina lived under the house of a “regular Palestinian family” with very little food, some days moldy pita. Her teenage daughters, Mika and Yuval, were taken to a hospital in Khan Younis, Gaza, where they had two surgeries for injuries to their legs. From there, they were taken to a tunnel under the hospital, where they joined numerous others held captive there. UNDER A HOSPITAL. Again, Karina had no idea where her daughters were while she was in captivity. She recently learned that her husband, Ronen, the girls’ father, was murdered on that Black Shabbat, how many Israelis refer to October 7. The girls are now recovering in an Israeli hospital, where their Labrador Retriever is allowed to visit. The emotional support overrides the typical protocol. The girls will probably go home in a month. Very big, strong hug for Diego, followed by his gratitude for being able to share his family’s story.

Next stop: Kibbutz Shvayim, where they are hosting 140 families who fled the massacre and devastation of Kibbutz Kfar Aza. There were 200 terrorists who infiltrated the kibbutz that day. Doron, who was in LA on 10/7 and lost his wife and son, said, “Every night I cry. And every morning I stand up.” This is the Israeli resolve. Appreciation from Doron. Big hugs for Doron.

Keren, too, lost her parents on 10/7 in Kfar Aza. She and her husband survived with their two-year-old daughter. They have three therapists. One for her. One for him. One for the two of them. Although her daughter doesn’t understand what happened, she knows she saw her grandparents every day and now not at all. Keren recognizes that one day she will have to tell her the story. Keren needed a tremendous hug.

I met little Shira at Shvayim. She was working on an art project. Her family lived in Sderot near the police station that was destroyed. They, too, are now temporarily living in this kibbutz. Through a translator, we asked, “Were you afraid?” She shrugged and replied, “No.” The resilience of a child. Shira and I exchanged big, but gentle hugs.

Note:

There are seven hostages remaining in Gaza from Kibbutz Kfar Aza.
Sixty-three of their residents were killed.
There are 234 children living in Kibbutz Shvayim from Kibbutz Kfar Aza.

It will take years to build back the kibbutzim. The problem is a “physical kibbutz and a spiritual kibbutz.” When the kibbutzim are habitable again, will the people be spiritually ready to return?

Achim L’Chaim (Brothers for Life), a non-profit organization created and run by injured Israeli veterans, gives critical and immediate help to other injured Israeli combat veterans. It is a place where they can rehabilitate, work out, do hydrotherapy, learn a foreign language, hear lectures, learn about investments and spend time with others who are injured. They have the brightest outlook. Theirs is a “can-do” attitude. The word “shame” doesn’t exist in their lexicon. They support one another and lift each other up.

Painstakingly, three of them shared their stories. Twenty-year-old Ori was injured in what he called a Fauda-like ambush in Jenin. On 10/7, he grabbed three friends and weapons and went to the front. He was unauthorized to do so because he was rehabbing from serious injuries, but he went anyway. He told us, “Please don’t tell my mom. She doesn’t know and she’s more dangerous than Hamas.” In addition to their battle wounds, they’re suffering from PTSD, as are many Israelis. More heartfelt thank yous from these IDF soldiers, appreciation for our being there and BIG, long, strong hugs with tears as well. We heard from Talia Levanon, Director of the Israel Trauma Coalition, on how they are managing the trauma care all over the country. As you can imagine, it is difficult. We also heard from Danielle Mor from Federation partner The Jewish Agency for Israel about their role in helping to provide relief. I am so proud that we fund these organizations.

We met with Gigi Levy, who holds an MBA from the Kellogg School of Business at Northwestern University and is a key leader of Brothers and Sisters for Israel, a 100-percent voluntary-based operation of former IDF soldiers, and the largest aid organization in Israel. Gigi’s mission is motivating masses of people who are volunteering in so many ways.

We heard from Brig. Gen. Daniel Gold, who spearheaded the creation of Israel’s Iron Dome system. So many people doing so much with strength and resilience. So much good following so much bad.

And still, the whole of Israel is in mourning. So often it felt like shiva permeating the air.

In memory of those who were murdered at the Tribe of Nova festival:
“WE WILL DANCE AGAIN.”

QUOTES FROM ISRAEL:
Thank you for coming.
Thank you for being here.
Thank you for your support.
You don’t know how much it means to us to have you here.
Thank you for listening to our stories.
Your presence brought a message of love, appreciation and support.
Please take our stories home.
We are committed to sharing their stories.
We honor them by doing so.
They need to be seen.
They need to be heard.
They need to be comforted.

Eight months ago, I went to Israel to celebrate. The last three days, I cried.
And hugged. Longer, stronger, bigger hugs.

There is a covenant that says the Jewish people will always survive.
Israelis have the heart, the spirit, the resilience and the capability.
This is why they will prevail.