As Jews, there are two imperatives:
Zachor- Remember ;and Pidyon Shevuyim – Redeem the Captive
These twin values inform so much of what it means to be Jewish. We believe in community. We believe in the value of each human life. When one life is extinguished, it is as though a whole world has disappeared. And when one life is saved, it is as though an entire world is preserved.
We visited Mishmar Ha-Emek, a lovely kibbutz known for inventing the plastic wrap that goes around bundles of hay (if you have ever seen a field with big rolls of hay bundled up…that’s their plastic holding it all together). But what is extraordinary about the kibbutz is that it has been home to some 400 residents from Kibbutz Nachal Oz, one of the kibbutzim on the border of Gaza, and one of the places first attacked by Hamas terrorists on October 7. A number from the kibbutz were murdered in the attack. Seven were taken hostage. Five have been released. Two remain in Gaza.
We heard from two survivors, Nomi and Dani. Their stories were the same…and yet each experienced the disaster differently. Their testimony speaks to the horror of that day and the miracles of their salvation. For now, I will share just one of their stories, albeit in shortened form.
Nomi told us: “My home is one year old…and that was supposed to be a forever home…Now I don’t know if I can ever go back. So the trauma is real, the devastation, the emotional, spiritual, long-lasting trauma is very very real and there’s no end point. We are refugees in our own country and we don’t know when this war will end…I’m right now staying in a 25 square meter room with my husband and three children. I will stay in there, I don’t care right now, bring back the hostages. I don’t care about me. I don’t worry about me, I’m fine. Bring those people back home.
We woke up at 6.25 or whenever it started to the loudest noise you’ve ever heard. Think of a thunderstorm and think of that loud noise, multiply that noise by a thousand and just make it nonstop for 10 minutes. That’s what that initial attack was. I just heard a loud boom that literally made me jump out of my bed like it was a trampoline. And we ran into the safe room. My kids miraculously were still asleep and we stood there in the dark, closing the window, closing the door. I’m like..’it’s not ending, it’s not ending, it’s not ending.’
Minutes after we had gone into that room, we started hearing gunfire, non-stop gunfire. Later (I learned that) men in IDF uniforms and white bandanas and a head cameras came to my door. It was the first house they came to. By luck or miracle or God or I don’t know, they shot at our door, and one of the bullets lodged into the lock and permanently locked the door. They couldn’t break it. So they broke into the house next to me, behind me and we heard everything.
My neighbor, who I share a wall with, said on our WhatsApp group, ‘They’re here. They’re in my house. Please come and help. Where is everyone?’ We heard the grenades and the RPGs and the nonstop gunfire and the Arabic. We heard it all.
At first, it was two hours, three hours, four hours, and we stayed there. We had no toilet. It was smelly and hot. On one of the WhatsApp groups later on in the evening, I just kept on saying (to others) ‘we are still here. ‘It took me a few hours to get up the courage to text my friend. I said, ‘we’re alive.’ The IDF finally got us out a little after 1 a.m. The way we knew it was IDF and not Hamas is because I heard my neighbor saying our names and saying, ‘It’s me. It’s Tzachi. I’m here with soldiers. Come on out. It’s ok.’The kids were asleep by then, of course. It had been 19 hours. And it was now 1 a.m. They were very, very scared to suddenly see big soldiers with the full gear, helmet, vest, guns, everything. And I just kept saying, ‘it’s okay, it’s okay. They’re here. We’re getting out.’
We took nothing with us. And there were soldiers every couple of meters all the way to the parking lot. I didn’t know this at the time, but there were like 20 to 30 bodies of Hamas right behind our house from intense fighting all day long. And it was very weird to, as hard as it was to be in that room, to suddenly leave that room and see the outside world. It was war zone, a full-on war zone.
Nomi told us that prior to October 7, the Palestinians on the Gaza side of the border worked at Nachal Oz. Now, she said, “The trust is gone. The relationship is shattered. We don’t know who built our homes. We don’t know who built the landscaping. They knew where the head of security lived and they knew where the armory was.”
Then she concluded, “This crisis of faith is real. This existential crisis is real. We don’t have a lot of words to describe what we’re going through and how we’re feeling because we use them all up to describe an exam and traffic and a bad meal and a show. We say, ‘It was hell. It was terrible. It was catastrophic.’
So you have no words left to describe real hell and real catastrophes and real devastation.”
Zachor…Nomi remembers. Her husband and children remember. They are refugees and may not go home for many months to come.
Zachor.
Whom do we remember? Of course, the dead. But, actually, more importantly, the living…those who have been held hostage for 115 days. While the pain of innocent Palestinians in Gaza is real, for Israelis – it is hard to focus on them – when one remembers that their family is being held hostage in Gaza.
And so everyone in the country remembers. Posters of hostages are everywhere. They are painted on the sides of hi-rise buildings. People wear yellow ribbons around their wrists and IDF-style dog tags that say “bring them home now.”
Today, we baked cakes for soldiers trying to rescue the hostages. We make vegetable platters. All will be delivered to them in the next day or two. In addition, we made ceramic kalaniot, red poppies, to be put near graves of those who died (zachor) and anywhere that traffic and people gather (zachor), in order to focus on what we must do…redeem the captives held in Gaza. Why red poppies? Because at this time of the year, the south – the area of the kibbutzim attacked – is blanketed with these red poppies. The time is called “Drom Adom,” the red south. The red has new meaning now, sadly.
It is an imperative. And for the vast majority of Israelis, it is that mandate – and not the elimination of Hamas – that is most important. And we were told that it is foremost in every soldier’s heart and mind…remember and redeem.
(Pictures: a map of the kibbutzim attacked by Hamas; the ingredients for our CCAR-made cakes; the ceramic kalaniot prior to being painted and fired; Dani, one of our speakers; a prayer for redeeming captives; Nomi, whose story I shared.)
The State of Art 