A reflection on returning home to Israel at war

A personal reflection on returning home to Israel at war – Chorvat Barzel (Sword of Iron)

By Cantor Emeritus Beny Maissner

Cantor Emeritus Beny Maissner will also share his reflections and more at the L’Chaim program with Jack Kugelmass on Thursday, May 2 at 5:00 pm. 

Since October 7, I was yearning to be in Israel, to help, however I could, and to be part of the difficult times our people are living through. I was finally able to go in March and spend three weeks volunteering and visiting. I will attempt to express my observations and the deep feelings I experienced, although, it is extremely difficult to put them into words.

My daughter, Shira, and I arrived at Ben Gurion airport on March 17. The airport was unusually empty. Its walls were splashed with pictures of the hostages. This was our first encounter with the undercurrent of a tense and uneasy spirit that had overtaken the country. Nonetheless, the hustle and bustle outside of the arrival area and in the streets of Tel Aviv seemed as if nothing had changed. This paradoxical existence accompanied me throughout the three weeks of visiting and volunteering, in different capacities and programs.

WEEK ONE

One of those programs is SAR-EL. This organization is associated with the IDF. It places volunteers from around the world on army bases, to help out and ease the burden of soldiers and reservists. We spent one week at the IDF supply base CHATZERIM, near Be’er Sheva. The daily routine reminded me of my own days in the IDF—early to rise, praying, a quick breakfast, and the official ceremony of raising the flag. After I was identified as an Israeli veteran, I was given the honour to be the first to raise my flag. Needless to say, I was very emotional.

The working tasks were not physically strenuous. Sometimes even boring. But the feelings of togetherness and being in the midst of action brought people of different backgrounds closer together. So much so, that within a few days, I had several new friends. As an extra bonus, I met people from Toronto who recognized me.

A highlight of that week was a visit to OFAKIM, one of the places that suffered greatly on October 7. There was a party with refreshments and entertainment for the soldiers and reservists coming out of Gaza for a few hours of break. This celebration was donated by incredible teams of volunteering Israelis, who represent every sector of Israeli Society—religious, secular, Charedi, Jews, and non-Jews. Naturally, I mingled with many of the young soldiers, telling them my own IDF story. They were all so kind and warm and expressed their appreciation for our being there and supporting them during these horrific days.

When I asked their opinion on the outcome of the war, their eyes lit up with a sparkle of convinced triumph that the war would end with the complete destruction of Hamas. My eyes teared, as I witnessed their determination, their fighting spirit, and the sacrifices they are willing to make to come out victorious.

To conclude the week, we visited the renewed Diaspora Museum in Tel Aviv, now named ANU (We): Museum of the Jewish People. The museum’s motto is Who are we? What makes us, the smallest nation on earth, the largest family in the world. All aspects of Jewish background, ethnic culture, achievements, and diversity are splendidly presented.

SAR- EL was an incredible experience for me. I highly recommend it to you.

WEEKS TWO AND THREE

My wife, Hope, joined me in Israel for the next two weeks, which were filled with mingling with family and friends and participating in other volunteer activities.

My perception of the paradoxical existence of Israel’s two moods was deepened. On one hand, people are always glued to the news and feel morbid with every announcement of a fallen young soldier. The current situation in Gaza and the Northern Front constantly occupies their minds. Uncertainty and unresolved questions related to when and if evacuated families will return to their homes linger in every heart. However, life continues with vigour and regularity in every corner of the country. Theatre, concerts, opera, and other cultural events take place as if nothing is threatening their existence. Coffee houses and restaurants are filled to capacity so that one cannot even make a reservation.

Israelis seem to live a double life. But the full spectrum of Israeli society is convinced of N’NATZEACH B’YACHAD together we will win.

Additional volunteering experiences during these weeks were extremely painful, but fulfilling as mitzvot that I was privileged to undertake.

A dear friend of mine developed an unconventional rehabilitation technique, which has been very successful in devastating situations where doctors have no other strategies or medicines to offer. I went with Yechiel to Tel Hashomer, the largest rehabilitation center, and met a critically wounded soldier who was shot in Chan Yunis. The details are too gruesome to describe. He was paralyzed and unable to breathe on his own. With the guidance of my friend, I showed him how to inhale and exhale using his diaphragm. Using loud Cantorial vocal demonstrations, to the laughter of the patient in the next bed, we worked together for over two hours. He fought fiercely like a lion and showed some positive results by the end. I was privileged to bless and hug this patient. We shed tears together and with members of his family.

Also, while helping my friend Yechiel in his unusual technique of rehabilitation, I revisited a young boy who was critically wounded a few years ago in the tragedy in MEIRON on LAG BAOMER. Thirteen-year-old Elazar was buried under a pile of people for hours. The tragic result was total brain damage and an inability to breathe on his own. I met Elazar and his family on my previous trip to Israel, in November of 2022. I made Elazar laugh, nonstop, and the parents asked for me to visit again. The joy Elazar demonstrated with his laughter when he saw me walk into the apartment, made me feel blessed and honoured to be there. This time, we worked on making vocal sounds. As a Levi, I asked his father, an orthodox Rabbi, if I could invoke the Priestly Blessing. This was a sacred and holy moment for all of us.

Hope and I visited Hostage Square a few times, witnessing the sadness and helplessness of the families. I had a chance to talk about one particular hostage, Omer Shem Tov, who was named at the square. I remembered carrying his picture during one of the Toronto rallies. I also brought warm greetings on behalf of our Jewish community of Toronto. This was deeply appreciated by visitors and the Israeli public, who were present at the time.

In another effort to help, Hope and I worked in a warehouse full of contributions from around the world that needed to be distributed to displaced families throughout Israel. Sorting endless items of all kinds, for inventory, organizing, and filling order requests, was a satisfying and meaningful way to contribute.

Finally, I carried with me to Israel two heavy suitcases of clothing, medical supplies, and many other items that were requested by the headquarters of the LONE SOLDIER. I delivered these in Jerusalem’s main office, to a very appreciative group of Lone Soldier volunteers. This too, gave me a sense of pride and satisfaction.

Of course, I would not pass up the opportunity to visit Fredzia Marmur. Michael took us for a short visit, which Fredzia greatly appreciated.

FINAL REFLECTION

There were so many equally moving moments during the three weeks I spent in my beloved Israel with family and childhood friends, talking, discussing, and dreaming of solutions to the problems Israel faces. Witnessing how life has halted and yet continued, how it is mourned and still celebrated, and how it is subdued and also boisterous reminded me of the resilience and beautiful spirit of our people and our people’s connectivity throughout the world. We are all part of Israel’s destiny and Israel is part of ours. We may be a small people, but we are one big family. Am Yisrael Chai.