Israel is hurting. It’s up to us to help

Israel carries a heavy load for the Jewish world. Even though I spent two weeks in Israel in February 2024 on a self-styled mission, nothing prepared me for the pain and anguish our brethren are suffering now, which I witnessed during a five-week trip in June and July.

In February, my family visited Israel to volunteer and help in any way we could during the short time we were there. We packed homeware donated by citizens for the army and displaced Israelis; picked avocados, oranges, and strawberries; and we sorted flowers cut for export. The physical work was exhausting, but not as taxing as our visit to Nahal Oz and the Erez Crossing in the south of Israel. I was thankful that we couldn’t visit Kibbutz Be’eri for the same reason that I cannot bear witness to the atrocities of the Nazis on our people in Poland.

At the Erez Crossing, we were introduced to the Phoenix Unit of 200 combat soldiers who commandeer tanks. These warriors, formally retired from the Israel Defense Forces (IDF), voluntarily formed the unit after 7 October. “Phoenix” refers to rising from the ashes. These soldiers obtained eight old tanks that were out of commission and being sold to Morocco. Two-hundred soldiers, mostly with grey hair, in eight tanks battered from previous wars, go in and out of northern Gaza.  They fight Hamas terrorists who seek the destruction of our holy land and klal Yisrael (the entire Jewish community).

Hamas terrorists destroyed the border infrastructure at the Erez Crossing on 7 October. This crossing was vital for transporting commodities from Israel to Gaza. We looked at the destruction and the countless dogs that had become feral and ran around the area looking for food. The ravages of war on every aspect of life on Earth is destructive and heartbreaking.

“Your visit gives us so much strength. Thank you!” said a 50-year-old rabbi who was among the warriors. He was among haredim, olim, men with grey hair, and younger soldiers who were maintaining and re-arming these old tanks. They proudly told us about their need to protect Israel and how they had success that day in eliminating seven terrorists.

In my second, five-week trip, my heart became heavier with each day that passed. Very few people I chatted to weren’t traumatised and deeply concerned about their future.

My first Shabbat, I met Gloria (not her real name), who was pale and extremely thin. She and her 95-year-old mother hid in the saferoom of her Be’eri home for 22 hours before help arrived. She can’t understand why the terrorists didn’t enter their home. Gloria has two children, a son and a daughter. Her 18-year-old daughter was working at the Nova festival to earn money. For eight days, Gloria thought that her daughter had been taken hostage. However, they found her body. Gloria cannot stay in the hotel on the Dead Sea with other Be’eri kibbutzniks as the collective trauma is too much for her. She has rented an apartment in a coastal city. She also adopted a puppy to help her deal with her trauma.

I chatted to a dog lover outside the market in Netanya. We both have Huskies, so we had much in common. He told me he had two sons, both fighting in Gaza. He and his wife haven’t slept soundly since the IDF went into Gaza. Some days later, I saw him with his wife and Huskies walking on the promenade. Rather, I should say, he was walking, and his wife had a motorised wheelchair.

I spent my second Shabbat with dear friends in a settlement in Samaria. Dovi – not his real name – whom our family know well, is a 50-year-old soldier, who suffers from post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). He went to Kibbutz Be’eri with his unit to defend it and work out the damage soon after 7 October. He became violently ill witnessing the ravages of a barbaric massacre. His commander relieved him so that he could go home. The devastation was just too much for him.

Dovi is a high school teacher. He no longer teaches but remains in the IDF as a reservist guarding the settlement where he and his family live. His main task is to protect access to the settlement, and he conducts observation of the IDF-manned junction on the road that runs past it. His wife, a specialised physiotherapist who treats disabled babies and toddlers mainly with cerebral palsy, told me that perhaps the family should never have moved to a settlement. She said she understood the hate Palestinians have for Israelis, but she never knew the true extent of the hate. She expressed disbelief at how this hate had been expressed with such brutality. When she took me back to Jerusalem after Shabbat, she prayed loudly and fervently to Hashem to protect us on the road that went past Arab settlements.

The settlement is religious. It’s beautiful and overlooks the magnificent terrain of Samaria. On Saturday afternoon, kids and parents walk the streets greeting their neighbours and friends.  Every man I saw wore a kippah and carried either a rifle or holster with a handgun. I met a forensic specialist; a social worker specialising in helping abused women; a gastroenterologist; a nutritionist; a kid on the spectrum; a son and father who are protecting Israel together in the north; a dental student; a young graduate working in a children’s psychiatric hospital; and a scholar. There’s no break from being on guard for the Jews of Samaria.

Samaria according to the Chumash, was captured from the Canaanites and assigned to the Tribe of Joseph.

I met several professionals while building a network of support for people going to live in a new country. One encounter needs to be shared. Their names aren’t real. Asaf is a software engineer, and his wife, Aderet, a veterinary doctor. The two are at odds about whether to stay in Israel or emigrate. Both suffered losses on 7 October, and Aderet has a family member who is still being held hostage in Gaza. Aderet doesn’t want her sons to go to the army. Her eldest is 14 and they have a year to decide because army selection and preparation starts when this son turns 15. Asaf, on the other hand, was an officer in the 1982 Lebanon War and believes fervently in defending Israel.

I’ve witnessed on a video recording how the convoy of trucks he was commanding in southern Lebanon came under attack. The video records how all the injured in the attack were taken by helicopter back to Israel for medical treatment, and how Asaf took control of the safety of all the soldiers he was responsible for. At the end of this harrowing testimony, the recording shows him falling from a standing position as he succumbs to his own injuries. He just collapses to the ground. He had a shrapnel injury in his back, but he mustered all the strength he had until all in his command were safe. Today, he too suffers from PTSD.

Asaf and Aderet are painfully at odds about the future of their beautiful three children. The mother wants to protect her sons from the ravages of war, and the father wants his boys to protect the land and its people.

These situations are heartbreaking but reflect the realities our brothers and sisters in Israel are facing. Israel is broken, and confidence is shattered. The country is being carried on the shoulders of young men and women who courageously defend all of us with their unselfish determination, patriotism, and their lives. There can be no gratitude deep enough from klal Yisrael to these heroes who do G-d’s work here on Earth.

Now is the time when we Jews must ask ourselves not what Israel can do for us, but what we can do for Israel.

Bendeta Gordon is an ardent Zionist, qualified chartered accountant, distribution development strategist, and property developer.