Many offered opinions and stances on the trip I took to Israel this week.

The U.S. Department of Defense banned travel to a war zone. The State Department strongly advised citizens to not travel due to “terrorism and civil unrest.” American airline carriers discontinued all flights to Tel Aviv. Travel insurance providers will not offer policies. Family and friends voiced fears, concerns, and even strong objections.

From an American standpoint, their positions were well-understood and the messages were clear … “DO NOT GO!” No one wanted to assume the liability or accept responsibility for any potential risks to Americans traveling to Israel during this time of war. Period. End of sentence.

Herein lies the dilemma and what is equally true. I also am a member of the Jewish people. I have inherited rights, ethical and moral responsibilities, and loyalties. I lived in the State of Israel for three years as a kid and have worked for an Israeli travel company for the past almost-seven years. I strongly identify with the struggles of the nation and need to support it in any way I can. I was in Israel (for business reasons) on October 7th and was there as the horrific and terrifying stories unfolded. And though I quickly returned to Atlanta five days later, I’ve felt sick at heart and conflicted about being in the States — and not there — ever since.

I wanted to go back. I had to go back.

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My brother-the-rabbi and I are kindred spirits. Over the past eighteen years, he’s travelled with a loyal, close-knit group to do volunteer work in Israel; always during the week before Thanksgiving. And, at a time when all tourist groups cancelled their October, November, and December trips, he refused to do so. He knew that volunteering NOW — especially during this time — was more important than ever before. His determination and commitment to travel meant that I had to join him.

With a group of 16 equally passionate and committed recruits, we flew to Tel Aviv on El Al Airlines on Sunday. (Among the group was our own 83-year-old mother! She said that her heart was in Israel, so her feet needed to be there too.) We landed on Monday and were joined at the airport by Israeli family. Then we hit the road.

It’s important to explain that, over the past six weeks, migrants and seasonal workers fled the country. Farmers and other young workers were called up to reserve duty. Others have been taken hostage or killed. And so the agricultural industry is at risk and a food shortage could ensue if fruits and vegetables are not picked, packaged, and distributed. Thanks to HaShomer HaChadash (a partner of the Jewish National Fund – USA), it was arranged for us to spend Monday in strawberry fields and Tuesday in eggplant greenhouses.

Similarly, army bases have a shortage of workers required to address the needs of soldiers. There are various distribution centers around the country that coordinate the sending of much needed supplies (i.e. protective vests, sleeping bags, thermal underwear and shirts, food, etc.) to the troops at the borders. Thanks to Sar-El, we spent Wednesday working at an army base in Tel HaShomer. We prepared 800 vests with bullet proof plates and boxed them for shipment to the soldiers on the front lines.

On Thursday, thanks to the Fuchsberg Center, we volunteered at a central community donation and distribution center that helps with the needs of approximately 200,000 displaced families. These people, victims of this war, were forced to flee their homes in the south immediately after the barbaric terror attacks on October 7th. We unpacked boxes, stacked shelves, and unloaded trucks.

In the evenings at our hotels, the Dan Carmel Hotel in Haifa and at the Inbal Hotel in Jerusalem, we met families and people of all ages who had been evacuated or permanently displaced from their homes in the north or the south. (Can you even imagine what it’s like to flee, leaving your belongings behind, and living in a hotel with your kids for an indefinite period of time?) Their stories were frightening. Their resilience is inspiring.

Then, on the way to the airport Thursday night, we stopped in Tel Aviv at the Museum of Art Square which has been renamed the Kidnapped Square (Kikar HaChatufim). There, various exhibits share images and perspectives on the collective horror, grief, and heartbreak over the hostages’ capture and captivity. It’s been six weeks. Six weeks of innocent civilians of all ages being held god-only-knows where by monsters. The hostages are not soldiers captured in war. They are people who were forcibly and criminally taken from a music festival, from their homes, and from their beds.

Some may question the wisdom of ending the trip with these images branded into our hearts, minds, and souls. I believe it was necessary. It will forever remind us of our collective narratives, challenges, and responsibilities as a Jewish people.

Mercifully, we did not experience sounds of sirens, runs for shelter, or acts of violence this week. We were met only with disbelief that we traveled over seven thousand miles during a war to be there, appreciation, love, and thanks by everyone we encountered. We arrived back in the States early this morning (Friday) with new, untold stories and with the knowledge that we were needed. Our presence in Israel truly mattered. We showed up. We made a difference. We were where we belonged…hearts, minds, bodies, and souls.

#ShabbatShalom #BringThemHome #StandWithIsrael

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