Yesterday 17 Kassam rockets fell in Sderot and the surrounding areas. Today, not so many hours later,  a few of us--Israeli representatives of various Federations and UJC Israel staff-- got on a bus and went down to Ashkelon, Shaar Hanegev and Sderot to express our solidarity and to get a better sense of what people are thinking and feeling.

Everywhere we went we got the same warm reception: The first sentence was about urging us to “eat something” and the second was---“don’t worry, but just in case there’s an alert, the shelter is right here…just run. Everything will be fine.”

What we heard from all the people we met was a blend of bad and good, a reality in  complex Israeli society. On one hand, many are feeling abandoned and on the verge of breaking down. Seven years is a long time to be under fire. On the good side, over and over, we heard expressions of leadership and strength and deep commitment to hanging in. Regional leadership is determined to maintain “life as usual” though even the toughest kibbutzniks admitted that they can no longer live in denial.

Here's one example of the painful ironies that are highlighted by our visit. Therapy for hundreds of residents who are suffering from various levels of trauma are provided a professional facility, which unfortunately has none of the protective devices or installations that assure protection from the Kassam rockets. And so, a common scenario in the therapy center is  treatment sessions abruptly interrupted by a siren or a Kassam hit, forcing therapists, adults, and children undergoing treatment, to all run together to a room that is more strongly constructed than others, and crowding together and hoping for the best.  Another sad irony is the story of a community leader who told us about how his twin 18-year old daughters are counting the days to their induction into army service, because that will provide them respite and a greater sense of safety. Their dad is heartbroken that they perceive the army as a safer place than their own home. 

The pain was apparent but even more so the strength of the people we met.  Over and over again we heard how the support of American Jews was the most powerful antidote to their feelings of abandonment, and sometimes, even despair, since no end is in sight. Even more potent and powerful than the pain was the sense of deep commitment, leadership, dedication, and a clear feeling of unity that these people are proudly safeguarding the borders of our country, in a relentless day-to-day struggle. We too should feel great pride in doing our part to not only support them, but provide them with hope for better days.

Gila Noam
JCF Israel Director
January 2008