There is a before and after in the life of every Jew, inside and outside of Israel, since the terrible events of October 7. From the moment I learned about the massacre, my thoughts revolved around how to help: it was not enough to pray or donate money; give talks at school or organize any other event. Every morning I woke up with the same concern: I wouldn't be able to celebrate Israel’s happy occasions in the future without first going to these, the darkest moments in the country's modern history. I needed to do something practical. I thought about the people in the kibbutzim, the broken families, the dead children, the mothers without children, the children without parents, the terror of the hostages. Of course, I thought about our heroes - the soldiers - and the entire Israeli population that was undoubtedly going through the same pain. Far from being afraid, I was convinced that the right thing to do was to go; I could not continue watching and listening to the news without being part of what all our brothers were experiencing.
In my search for some way to be in Israel I came across the opportunity to be part of an international group of volunteers. It didn't take me a minute to sign up for the Restart Israel program, organized by La Casa Argentina.
The mission was to bring a little light into so much darkness during the week of Hanukkah. I arrived on Tuesday, December 5, to find a completely empty airport. From that moment I felt a hole in my stomach that warned me of the reality that I would begin to live. Still, I was so grateful to be back in Eretz Yisrael. It was 10 at night when I arrived in Raanana, where I was welcomed by a warm Mexican family that had mobilized in view of the situation. We talked a little about how their lives changed after that black Saturday.
Walking through the streets everything seemed normal, but there was enormous sadness. Without being able to explain how, one perceived that Israel was united; with hope. People were very surprised when I told them that I had come from Mexico with a group of volunteers. They told me “thank you”, although we should be the ones who are grateful because they are the ones who live in the land and defend it; in some way their resistance also protects us Jews in the Diaspora.
The meeting point every morning was at Yad Le-Banim, on Achuza Street in Raanana. The most significant thing was meeting a diverse group made up of Jews from New York, London, Miami, Argentina, Chile, Brazil, Uruguay, and Mexico, of different ages: men and women over 60, women and men alone or with a partner, parents with children, young people of 20 and 22... We felt the pain that united us, more than 80 Jews from the Diaspora, telling our brothers “Hineni” – here I am – “suffering with you and willing to help you in any way I can.”
In the mornings, we had the opportunity of helping with agricultural work. My first day of volunteering involved picking mandarin oranges. I found it really impressive to arrive at the place and see the number of trees full of fruits, but without any workers to collect them. The field felt abandoned, but the group received instructions, and our energy levels went up. We spent about three hours picking as a team, singing and being grateful for the opportunity. The contact with the land, the smell of the fruit and the soil, and the rain made me think of and connect with the early pioneers who came to Palestine to work the land. I managed to transport myself to the time when working the land was the most important thing.
“… Who performed miracles for our forefathers, in those days, at this time.”
It was the first night of Hanukkah, and we were about to arrive at Beit Ha-Kibbutz in Tel Aviv. I couldn't stop thinking about the Hanukkah War, which we remember every year: the few against the many, the miracle of the oil, the rebellion of the Maccabees. I felt a lump in my throat. Then the son of Lior Rudaef (61), who was kidnapped on October 7 from Kibbutz Nir Yitzhak, shared his testimony. It was hard to hear the anguish of a son who knows nothing about his father’s fate; to meet outside the auditorium more than 30 relatives of hostages; to put faces to all the names whose pain and uncertainty we share. Together we lit the first candle, full of hope to see a replaying of the miracle of Hanukkah.
They were eight very special days. It is difficult to express what we experienced at the army bases, in the streets, and in each of our activities. My experiences at military bases are still fresh - preparing barbecues for the soldiers, ranging from young people of 18 and 19 to much older reservists, who have not seen their family for more than 60 days. We prepared long tables with chairs, and we were their waiters. I remember the exchanges of thanks: they thanked us for the dinner and for being there with them; we thanked them for all the work they do, for defending the Land that belongs to every Jew. Their smiles and optimistic looks full of determination to defend the Jewish land make them flesh and blood heroes.
If I admired and loved the Land of Israel before, today there are no words to describe this feeling. I have nothing but gratitude towards all the people who made this social project possible, enabling some Jews from around the world to feel part of what is going on and to give a little in this war that belongs to everyone, but we do not experience it in the same way. Each one in his or her place is fighting for our identity and our Land, but always together.
Thank you for allowing us to give a little and receive so much.
Margot Zonana
Judaic Area Director Monte Sinaí School, Mexico.
International Masters Student