Tuesday, December 19, 2023

Days of Melancholy


These days, Jerusalem residents go about their business with a heavy heart. Strolling in a park to clear my head, I crossed paths with another resident doing the same. We chatted briefly.

“Hey. How are you doing?” I asked.

 

“Crap”, he answered. Otherwise, I’m fine.” 

I could relate, and I told him so. 

“Tomorrow I’ll go to work, sit at my desk doing paperwork, argue with my boss, and do everything else as usual. That won’t change. But in the meantime, I know that Israeli hostages are sitting traumatised in Gazan tunnels, and our boys are risking their lives fighting while I continue my mundane existence.” He was a sweet fellow, and I could only nod at his sentiments. “I pray that soon enough our boys can spend their time chasing girls (instead of terrorists) like they are meant to.”

 

It was a poignant thing for him to say, if not a little sexist. My mind was transported to a photo I saw last week of the military surveillance unit, comprised mainly of young women soldiers who monitor the electronic observation systems on the border. The image I saw was taken on October 7 by one of the women in a safe room at their base in Nachal Oz, on the Gaza border. Many of them, in pajamas, had been in bed and rushed to ‘safety’ when it was discovered that Hamas had breached the border. They contacted their families and sent photos, including the one I saw. Most are now dead. The Hamas intruders soon over-ran the base, murdered 16 of the girls, and took a few of them hostage. A dedicated Wikipedia entry in Hebrew contains relevant details.

 

https://he.wikipeia.org/wiki/%D7%A7%D7%A8%D7%91_%D7%9E%D7%95%D7%A6%D7%91_%D7%A0%D7%97%D7%9C_%D7%A2%D7%95%D7%96

 

Too often, the newsreader announces that: 

"Approval has been given to make public...”

Those listening feel a stab in their bellies. They all know what will follow: 

...the death of...”. 

Another Israeli casualty from this crazy war, each one a tragedy. Just as bad, they never seem to announce the wounded, the hidden many of whom will live out their lives with at least a physical disability. 

 

Daily routine here is not what it was. Apart from going to work as usual, residents volunteer during their spare time in unexpected ways to help the war effort. I decided to record these activities, to help out with public relations.


 

Soldiers on the Fringe





Last Wednesday I visited a small tzitzit-making factory. Most of the volunteers had no experience making tzitzit, but instructors guided them. Destined for soldiers, the garments are made in olive green. People came and went throughout the day, for as long as they could and whenever they had time. Girls from a youth movement came as a group. Volunteers were religious, secular, and of all ages.










Donations for those Risking their Lives



Having been to a pop-up warehouse last month in Melbourne organising donations to Israel, I was curious to see one here. Located downtown, donations of military and personal equipment needed by soldiers are received and prepared here. The security guard, an Arab fellow, checked me before approving me for entry.


Items are checked, sorted, packed, and delivered to various military bases around the country. These include toiletries of all kinds, thermal clothing, knee pads, head flashlights, candies, grenade holders, and much more. Packages also include pamphlets describing to soldiers how to identify and deal with Acute Stress Disorder, and for commanders, tips for efficient use of human resources. 





For lone soldiers and those needing emotional support, other items are inserted, including gifts and personal notes.




The volunteers at the warehouse were of all ages and persuasions, including kids, Yeshiva students, and seminary girls. I found my visit quite moving. I intend to load some packages into my car and personally deliver packages to some bases next week and hopefully meet the soldiers themselves.








Sandwiches for Soldiers 


Everyday, volunteers show up at a Chabbad Centre to prepare thousands of sandwiches for soldiers. The story behind this enterprise is interesting in itself: it was set up in memory of a fallen soldier, Sergeant Liel Gidoni who, as a child, took sandwiches to school to feed other kids who had turned up without having eaten breakfast.

https://www.project10.org.il/en/home/


 


This is a tightly run ship, and the volunteers I met included locals, visitors, and tourists alike. 







Especially moving was a ceremony that took place after the morning’s activities had ended. Eight soldiers had been announced killed in operations in Gaza. The Centre’s staff posted photographs and details of the victims on one wall and prepared a memorial candle for each. The volunteers all stood in silence as a few words were said about the situation. Together, everyone recited psalms in memory of the fallen. Quietly, the volunteers placed their aprons in a box and these were folded away in preparation for the next day. Others took large paper bags and packed the sandwiches for delivery.

 

I left the Centre, my heart in my throat. A large Hannukia stood at the door, waiting to be lit that evening for the festival.




Apartheid - the Reality


I took the opportunity to visit a friend who is on an extended stay in hospital. The security guard at the entrance, as with the guard at the warehouse I had been to a couple of days earlier, was a Palestinian Arab citizen. It was Friday afternoon. The guard nodded at me as I entered and later, with a smile, wished me 'Shabbat Shalom' as I left the building. I thought of all the news reports and protests I had seen in Australia violently accusing Israel of being an apartheid state, performing ethnic cleansing and genocide against Palestinian Arabs. If only they could see the reality on the ground.  



Air Raid


In normal times, the onset of Shabbat in Jerusalem is usually marked by the sounding of an air raid siren. This is not the case, however, during times of hostilities. So when the siren sounded as I left my home to visit friends for Shabbat dinner, raced back home and joined my neighbours in our basement bomb shelter. 



One neighbour complained of the cold; she had rushed out of the house in short sleeves, not having thought to bring a sweater. Another resident wore a fluffy blue dressing gown. "It suits you," I said.
"These gowns can't be bought anymore, it's a relic" she responded with a smirk. 


Just then the shelter shook with two loud booms. It was too close for comfort.


"Not to worry," said one of the kids who sat on the side, staring at his phone. "That's just the Iron Dome system shooting down the missiles from Gaza."



A Powerful Reminder of Jewish History


On Saturday I walked with my cousins in the Jerusalem forest. A path led up to Yad Vashem, (the Holocaust Museum). Despite being outside of operating hours we wandered through the grounds, viewing the new but as-yet-unfinished Valley of Communities and returning via a cattle car that had transported Jews to the death camps. Everything we saw served as a stark reminder of the precarious nature of life as a Jew in the absence of a Jewish State.

 

A powerful reminder and incentive for why we do what we do.

 

 

A Sign of the Times


Everything I have referred to above - 

  • the national melancholy, 
  • the bravery of our soldiers,
  • the solidarity shown by the whole nation in support, 
  • the care for others manifested at both private and national levels, 
  • the diversity and multiethnic nature of Israeli society, 
  • the continuing attacks against Israeli civilians that disprove charges of paranoia and wholeheartedly justify Israel's forthright (and many would say late) steps to protect its citizens and prevent future aggression -

is so poignantly expressed by the ubiquitous yellow ribbons popping up all over the country, primarily displayed as reminders of the Israeli hostages still held in Gazan tunnels by Hamas.

  • We love you
  • We respect you.
  • We pray for you.
  • We are doing what we can to save you.
  • And we will never forget our responsibility to you and to each other.

 

 



 



 

 

 

 

 

 

 

3 comments:

Lynne said...

So beautiful, Alan - resonated deeply.

Anonymous said...

Beautifully written

Shari said...

Thanks for this post. Very touching.