I want to talk about dreams. The opening line of Psalm 126, our Birkat Psalm, reads “When the LORD restores the fortunes of Zion —we see it as in a dream-a—” Any trip to Israel should be just like that, a dream. 

But Israel is in a time of trouble, seemingly far from the dreams of our ancestors. The Hebrew word for nightmare is סיוט, based on a word used in a talmud story about demons that appeared to King Saul in a dream. It shares the same Hebrew root as  להסיט, meaning  “to divert.” A nightmare hopes to divert our attention, our focus from the hope and potential that help make dreams possible. But if there’s a word to describe this time of year, the Israeli people, it is resilient, even in times of despair. 

More telling than anything else is that in times of trouble, we go to the Psalms. Psalm 126, the dreaming Psalm, contains these words, “Those who sow in tears, will reap in joy.” Sowing in tears is not a linear motion- as if once we have planted seeds of sadness we will automatically head to future songs of joy, without any reseeding necessary. When I visited Israel last week, joy and sadness occupied one hand. Frustration and hope, the other.   

As we flew over the Atlantic, from Tel Aviv to New York, the mood was changing in Israel. Hamas broke the ceasefire by firing into Israel, by not sending a new list of hostages to be released. Yes, the 7 day ceasefire that saw over 100 hostages released, that had enveloped our entire 5 day journey, was over. It makes this experience unique, a rega b’zman, a moment in time. A country at ceasefire is now filled with sirens in Tel Aviv and Ashkelon, military battling on the ground in Gaza. 

The psalmist writes in psalm 121,” Hinei Lo Yanum v’lo Yishan, SHomer Yisrael”, “the guardian of Israel neither slumbers nor sleeps.” Israelis, the literal guardians of Israel, neither slumber nor sleep. The resilience of this country is unbelievable.. While the resiliency was born as an indictment of Israel’s government, the intestinal fortitude of each Israeli to push on, to have open hands and hearts to family and strangers, is something we on this side of the Atlantic can learn a lot from. Israel mobilized, and we CAN do the same- for our own communities and for the state of Israel.

We visited hospitals, military bases, and interacted with those mobilizing volunteer efforts. No one has a moment to breathe…on one end you might imagine that with human resources at an all time low solidarity missions would be a burden- but at no point did it feel like a burden to be there. In fact, the opposite- every Israeli we met with thanked us wholeheartedly for our presence, our “bravery.” They sent US strength with what is going on in the states. No greater example would be when we visited Ashkelon, a city bombarded by 2000 rockets. The community members described their anxieties, but followed with a  pitch to move to Ashkelon, the “greatest city. “

Yizhar Hess, who previously served as the Executive Director of the Masorti Movement in Israel and coordinated our last Cantors Assembly leadership mission in the summer of 2022, framed our main responsibility as shlichim, emmisaries, in a discussion we had midway through our mission. Our responsibility was, and is, עדות, witnessing. He shared the following story:

Considered by many the most influential secular Jewish poem of the twentieth century, Bialik’s “B’ir Haharegah (In the City of Slaughter).” was published in 1904 in the aftermath of the Kishinev pogrom of 1903. It influenced the development of a Zionist ethos  — looking for an alternative to a place like Kishinev where, Bialik wrote, “the heirs of Hasmoneans lay, with trembling knees, concealed and cowering — the sons of the Maccabees!”

The large Jewish community of Kishinev, a small city in the Russian Empire in what is now Moldova, was attacked over three days, beginning as church services ended on Easter Sunday. Forty-nine Jews were massacred and bodies littered the streets. Many more suffered unspeakable atrocities and homes were torched.

The zionist movement changed, the view of European jewry changed, because Bialik was there to bear witness, and share that story with others. And so this morning, I want to share about 3 stories:

Story #1

Our first stop was the Hadassah rehab unit on Mt Scopus. Most of the patients we met were battling injuries inflicted by Hamas terrorists on October 7. We sang songs of healing, Israeli standards to cheer up the staff and residents. As our group was finishing a set of songs, a gentleman came up to us asking for us to meet his brother, Eden. Eden was shot point blank in the chest just 10 days earlier, as three armed terrorists opened fire at a checkpoint. Eden saw something suspicious. Eden shared many details of that morning-

3:40AM: called avram to be on guard, put on tefillin, put on bulletproof vest and had briefing on checkpoints – between gush and Jerusalem 

Finished briefing 4:30AM – went to position 

5:30AM-  made to checkpoint 

Headed to Lane 1- at 7am, Avram relieved him 

7:45AM- open another lane (relieved Avram)

Lane 2 was filled with daati, religious individuals

Saw from far – a car caught his eye – license was upside down, had Magein David on dashboard… 

He told the car to stop; asked lots of questions – theydidn’t answer. ID papers? didn’t answer; how old? Siblings? 3 people in car said “kol bseder” I’ll come give you a picture…

At point blank one of them takes a gun, opens the door and yells allah akbar,  shoots Eden in his chest. 

His friend Avram was killed, succumbing to his wounds. Later Eden adds that the sheer force of the bullet ripped the tzitzis underneath. 

This soldier’s brother knew how therapeutic it would be to tell his story, just as others tell their stories. Even though Eden kept saying “Sababa,” you could feel how he had yet to process all that had happened. Sababa, an expression of enthusiasm, “cool,” is Eden finding a way to cope with the trauma of that morning and the loss of his friend.

As we find out that this is the first day Eden has walked on his own, Eden says “Avram is with me.” 

Story #2

As we enter into Kfar Aza, our guide gives us a little context for this community: 950 members, more than 60 murdered; 10 kidnapped to Gaza, burned houses. The displaced refugees are in the south of Netanya – in hotel rooms or apartments/houses subsidized by the government and friends of the community. 

In many ways, visiting a place like Kfar Aza should come across as visiting a concentration camp- the smells, the sights of destruction, paired with the stories of atrocities and war crimes, are so overwhelming that I don’t know when I’ll fully process what I saw. And yet visiting Kfar Aza, led around the Kibbutz by a survivor, Gon,  who fought off 40 Hamas terrorists, is so far removed from any trip I ever made to Majdanek, Auschwitz, or Dachau. For in truth, this is the balance of life here- Kfar Aza is the sight of a massacre, a shiva home to those who mourn, and ALSO a Wonderful place “ you should be jealous” our guide tells us that you would be living in a place like Kibbutz Kfar Aza, a privatized kibbutz home to over 900 members with a long waiting list to get in. This is a place that for now is frozen in time (sukkot are still up) and yet it is where the living want to return and will return, a place of loss AND a place, God willing, of life. No one knows what this place will look like tomorrow- a museum, a memorial, a moving tribute AND a place to move forward, to live on.  

Seeing so much destruction is sensory overload: images of rubble, toys, trash, bullet holes. An image sticks in my brain- it’s of a single card from the game “Spot it.”All three of my children play this game at home with us. Seeing the card, finding it in our own playing deck, reminds me that Hamas attacked the young, the innocent. It’s a rallying cry for me to continue to share the beauty of the members who were lost and who suffer the trauma of October 7, the hate and premeditated barbarism of Hamas, and the hope of what Kfar Aza may be for generations to come.        

We ask Gon how he can walk around this space, so soon after experiencing this trauma. He says, “Many are not with us anymore. Someone needs to tell the story. And one day, we want to come back here (to live).”

Story #3

We visit the Hostage and Missing Families Forum, known through the hashtag #BringThemHomeNow. According to their website, the Hostage and Missing Families Forum was formed by the families of the abductees less than 24 hours after the horrific attack by Hamas on Israel on October 7th. The Forum is volunteer-based and laser-focused on bringing the hostages back home to their families, to us.

Our guide Meirav reiterates the volunteer nature of this NGO as people work around the clock in addition to, in many cases, full time jobs. The two goals are to keep the return of the hostages in the forefront of the political agenda as well as supporting the families of the hostages. We meet members of a number of the teams- the diplomatic team mobilizes awareness in their own governments, the medical team provides mental health resources for families and supplies medical info of the hostages to the Red Cross, whom Meirav describes as acting like a GETT taxi driver, refusing to offer medical attention when needed; the legal department, communication department (think of all the billboards in 90 locations around the world); the social media team who write everything in Hebrew AND in English; and the influencer department.

After the terrors of October 7, Dudi Zalmanovich, a prominent Israeli businessman whose daughter survived the massacre at the Nova music festival and whose nephew was taken captive by Hamas, emptied two floors of his office and gave birth to the forum. We hear Dudi speak about the days immediately after and how the forum is adapting to the reality of some hostages being released. A number of times, he says that it doesn’t matter Israeli or non-Israeli, Jewish or not Jewish, they want all of the hostages home safely and home speedily. After we sing a very emotional Acheinu (a literal prayer for hostages) in our little hallway, Dudi’s statements come into play in real time, as a family member receives a phone call right next to us that Aisha Ziyadne, from the Bedouin community of Ziyadne, is one of the captives being released (if you’re thinking Bedouin – a reminder that Hamas doesn’t want people of all religions living on this land). Later that night, we learn that her brother Bilal is also released. After an embrace, As Dudi puts it, “to see this person so drained yesterday and now today” Even in the joy of the moment there are still other family members in captivity. 

Everywhere we looked, from Hadassah hospital to the streets of Tel Aviv to the roads to the southern kibbutzim, we saw the slogan “b’yachad ninatzeach” often translated as “together we will win.” In reality, the slogan reads more like the verb, lehitgabeir, to overcome. Together we shall overcome. Our humanity and caring for eachother will get us through these difficult times. It is the crying call of every Israeli we meet. 

For our goal is two pronged- just as we speak of the inhumanity of Hamas, we MUST speak of Israeli expressions of humanity. Facts and figures are important, but human touch points will be what is needed to change the narrative. When our group shared those last moments of gratitude, our videographer Or (you’ll see his work soon thanks to funds we raised at the JJC), said that WE are the hope. WE, the cantors on this mission, and WE Israel’s family and friends in the diaspora. This isn’t something Israelis would’ve said two months ago…Together, Israel and diaspora, are the hope. Just as we can have boundless love, we can always have boundless hope- hope for the return of hostages, for peace, for a people of Israel that thrives for generations to come.

I want to get back to dreaming, dreaming of a beautiful and strong Israel, making dreams become a reality. And that is where we all come in.

By adding light- light to publicize the miracle of Hanukkah, AND to publicize the massacre of October 7.Be the light by engaging in dialogue and by going to Israel (remember, it’s not a burden). Israel needs you. You ARE and will be, the hope. Be the light- the light for the lives taken, the light for those in captivity who need the light to bringthemhomenow -from darkness to light….mei-afeilah l’orah…speedily in our day.