Waking up to a 10 p.m. siren. The pelting sounds of heavy gunfire. The rapid beat of your heart after an explosion just a few kilometers away. Feeling the tension of holding back tears while reading the stories of hostages and innocent lives that were taken in the very place you stand today.
This only scratches the surface of what I witnessed during a recent 10-day venture to Israel.
As a traveler, I have learned to take every expectation and toss it to the tarmac while boarding a plane to the next location. Even still, I tried to picture what we may experience on this journey to the Middle East. There was no way I could have imagined the reality of being in a nation that has been stricken with conflict for 77 years.
There’s no relief from what you experienced when you return home from a trip like this. You may feel as though you can finally breathe after feeling on edge and recognizing the emotional toll of where you have been. The nerves of being at risk have passed, but the burden grows as you return. The burden to speak for those whose stories are not being heard. The burden to testify to the reality of a people who simply seek peace. But the burden is a gift, actually. Oh, God how we must trust You to steward well the stories of those who survived and, even more so, those who did not.
The reality of what I saw and the stories I heard finally hit me at 4:32 a.m. IST in seat 40-C. With tears in my eyes, feeling the strength of gravity, I pondered the sorrow of the people of Israel, but not without recalling their strength. I think of their hurt, and yet, so quickly, can call to mind what I witnessed in them as hope.
Holocaust and Houthis, Hezbollah and Hamas
The culture of Israel is unlike any other – the richness of historical religiosity brings forth both unparalleled community and, unfortunately, unimaginable threats. Without having experienced the bitter hand of the latter, it is just stories. Rockets and bomb shelters are just bad dreams, and threats of terror and genocide are inconceivable. The bliss of experiential ignorance quickly becomes a forethought when your first night ends with the waning call to shelter in place.
The reality of the persistence of conflict in Israel means that there are generations of people who understand the hardship of being targeted. No man, woman, or child should have to live their lives guided by the threats of terror organizations or the looming knowledge that they are hated simply because of the tradition into which they were born.
Hope in Their Hands
In spite of the constant opposition that the people of Israel have faced for generations, their grip on hope remains firm. In the midst of adversity, the Jewish people refuse to let fear squelch their habits of gratitude and prayer in supplication. As we toured the land, we met with locals who practice the faith and even those who have not kept to the patterns of Judaism, yet still held hope. Over and over, we sympathized with the stories of losing family members and listened to the tragedies of friends who were taken hostage.
As we stood on the border of Gaza, hearing the sounds of gunfire and explosions in the distance, we listened to a man recounting how he and his friend narrowly escaped the clutches of Hamas two years ago. Recognizing I stood in the very spot where hundreds of lives were stolen, I pictured the bravery of our friend during the attack. This was not an ancient story told by someone generations apart from us. This was the reality of an attack that was so recent, I could remember where I stood when I learned of the raid that he experienced.
Even as our friend recalled the pained shouts that surrounded him as he ran through the dark fields that night, it was clear that, thankfully, he was not hostage to the hurt he endured. This was a pattern we quickly picked up on as we talked to other survivors and victims. The Jewish people held tightly to hope in a way I had never seen before. Despite the pain and suffering they have experienced time and again, they still choose joy. They choose to sing and dance each Friday evening to welcome Shabbat. They recognize what they have been through, and yet so many can still praise the goodness of God and pray blessings on their loved ones at the end of each week. Laughter is still enjoyed through deep-bellied chuckles, and smiles are still shared with a passing “Shalom” and “Boker Tov” to wish their neighbors well each day.
Enduring Memories
It is said that “a man dies twice – the first time is when his heart no longer beats and the second is when nobody remembers his name.” The people of Israel refuse to let the memories of brothers, sisters, and parents fade away. Through Yad Vashem’s Book of Names, Israelis seek to find the names and stories of every Jewish life stolen in the Holocaust. Today, they are just as intentional with their lament and efforts to memorialize those lost at the hands of Hamas.
It is an honor to have heard the stories of so many Jewish people in the ten days we spent on the ground in Israel. Now, after having processed the places, the stories, and even my own experience in the land, the burden to share their stories grows.
I want to share the reality of what the people of Israel have lived through, share the pain they endured without neglecting to tell of the hope that they have, share the truth of life amidst conflict and urge others to join us in prayer for the Jewish people.
As part of Concerned Women for America (CWA), I am proud to stand with the Jewish people and with the nation of Israel. We believe it to be in the United States’ best interest to continue to politically and spiritually stand in unity with the Jewish people. We urge you to join us in prayer for peace in the Middle East.
