Visiting Sites of the October 7th Massacre: A Personal Reflection

I've participated in and staffed dozens of trips and missions to Israel. This last one -- a Birthright Israel Solidarity Mission that I staffed as part of my work as Israel Liaison for Birthright Israel Foundation -- was the most meaningful of them all, by far.

Picture of the American participants on the solidarity mission, outside the Sderot municipality building. 

We visited the South of Israel last week on the Gaza Border Region which is today a closed military zone. We went to Kibbutz Kfar Aza, Kibbutz Alumim, Netivot and Sderot, where I lived for a bit in 2007/2008 to volunteer and write about life under rocket fire on this blog, From 90210 to Sderot. It just made sense to post my reflections here, as I used to back in the day when I was living down there. 

So many of us have been on tours of Sderot and been there in the police station. And now it’s gone. 

A picture of me in 2007 with a rocket that had landed near me while giving out Sufganiyot on Chanukah in December 2007, and now what's left of the police station post October 7th. You can find the story of what happened here. 

Seeing what happened on the Gaza Border impacts your Jewish Neshama (soul) more than anything I’ve experienced, even more than what when I went to Poland and Israel with Camp Ramah at 16. Don’t take this as me comparing the two events historically, but rather from a personal impact/educational experience, that unlike my Poland/Israel trip, and thank God for this, what we saw and experienced won’t be there forever. It’s not just the ghost towns and communities, as well as the sites of the massacres that are temporary, but meeting and seeing people discuss their experiences and the emotions (or lack there of) on their faces when speaking, and “on location”, is so unique to this moment. I’ve never experienced anything like on Tuesday where we were at Kfar Aza and then the next day go to a hospital to meet a wounded officer who was a first responder there at Kfar Aza describing literally word for word what we had just seen; the impact is beyond words.

A Sukkah still stands on Kfar Aza. 

This family never got to take it down.

There's that saying that history is written by the victor. But it’s also the stories of tragedies and triumphs of individuals and families that make up a collective. Going to Kfar Aza with a survivor of the atrocities there and then going to Kibbutz Alumim with the head of the Kitat Konenut (local security team) who described how they fought off the terrorists from entering the Kibbutz, while also describing the destruction of some of the industry, their efforts right now to save their dairy farm, and the tragic murder of the foreign workers there, you see how tragedy and triumph was the theme throughout. History has taught us that no matter what, we the Jewish people, will be triumphant, no matter the tragedy. But it's because of all the individuals and families that make up our collective that decided, no matter their personal tragedies, to dedicate themselves to the triumph of their people. What a zchut, an honor, to be part of this amazing Am (nation/people). 

Outside a destroyed home on Kfar Aza, the Magen David still hangs. 

I've taught many groups since October 7th started, mostly on Zoom, and I've talked about the paradigm shifts that will forever change Israel, the Middle East and the Jewish world. You can talk about these changes all you want based on what you read or what you experience during this conflict, no matter where you live, be it Jerusalem (like me) or in Jewish communities outside of Israel dealing with increasing antisemitism. But smelling, hearing, seeing what unfolded on October 7th and meeting the people who experienced this tragedy and fought back, emphasizes for you how much everything will change, and how much this historical moment is a live event, and we are part of this paradigm change in Jewish history no matter what we do or whether we even want it. It's a once in a life time moment that will determine the future of the Jewish people for generations.  

On the top, a crib at Kfar Aza. One of those mobile cribs so classic on Kibbutzim. You can see bullet shell casings in it.

On the bottom, an art installation outside the Tel Aviv Art Museum.

This change is happening now as we speak. The site of these massacres from October 7th and how Israeli society all over the country is reacting, including the mass mobilization for the war of all sectors, is something one can only really grasp with all your physical senses. Reading online or watching media clips does not do it justice to know and feel Israel at this moment. My CTA (call to action) for those outside of Israel is whenever you feel it is personally safe for you to do so, come visit, even if just for a few days. It's hard to describe the impact it will have on you, whether it's just to come to Tel Aviv and/or Jerusalem, or whenever you have the opportunity to visit the ground zero of October 7th, and to feel, hear, and see with all your senses why it's all changing. 

At the entrance to the home of a murdered young couple. 

Writing on the right is from the IDF, on October 11th they wrote, there's still terrorists inside.

On the left is from the Zaka organization, after the IDF neutralized the terrorists, that says, "there's human remains on the couch". 

Although even as I write this I am conflicted about visiting the areas hardest hit by the terrorists on October 7th. What's different about this ground zero it was the homes of friends and family of so many of friends and colleagues. I lived across the street from Kfar Aza on my gap year on Kibbutz Sa'ad. I still have good friends there, and in our drive to Kfar Aza we drove through "the kibbutz" (what we endearingly call it, us Bogrei Nativ, alumni of my gap year), and I snapped pictures for my friends who were evacuated to show them pictures of the home I hope they can return to soon and will feel safe to return to soon. 

Picture I took of sign of my old Kibbutz, Kibbutz Sa'ad that I sent to my friends evacuated from there. 

This ground zero isn't a public space, so to speak. The pictures I took, and am sharing, I'm not sure I feel it's right that I'm sharing. And maybe that's the American in me that is respectful of personal space. But it was pointed out to me by one of the members of the solidarity mission I was on, she said it so eloquently right at that moment that I'll paraphrase, "these are people's homes it feels like we're invading something so sacred". 

Many have compared the tragedy of October 7th to the Holocaust. I'm not in a state to make cognitive comparisons. Emotionally though, having gone there, I understand why one would say that. However what's sacred in the sites in Poland is it being the site of Jewish death. While Kfar Aza and so many communities in the South are also the sites of Jewish death, their sacred character lies in that they were all about Jewish life, and unlike the Nazi death and concentration camps, will be sites once again of Jewish life in the Jewish homeland.  I'm sure something of the massacre sites will be preserved, but the Zionist ethic and ideal calls for rebuilding. And while it will be an arduous process, both the technical and logistical aspects of the rebuilding, as well as what it will take psychologically for people willing to live with their children on the border of whatever Gaza will be in the future, visiting the area, seeing everything down there compels one to see how it's not a remembrance site of a massacre, but an area that was full of life that must be full of life once again.  

A destroyed home at Kfar Aza. 

I believe Zionism has never been more redeemed. Just like the original Zionist leaders, we Jews today need to take history into own hands and believe in our collective identity. I know that when this war ends our security and safety and ensuring Jews can be Jews can happen best in places that puts our concerns first as a collective while always respecting and having empathy for the other. I'm confident that's Israel now and into the future. But I still believe it can also be Jewish communities outside of Israel, and that will be by leaning into the Zionist idea of taking fate into your own hands. Be whoever you want to be, just know that you will have the best opportunity to be whoever you want from within the confines of your own people, while also always being connected and deeply tied to your homeland. 

At the entrance to Kibbutz Alumim's dairy farm, it states, Am Yisrael Chai, the people of Israel lives.

While the community is evacuated, five members of their security team come to the Kibbutz to operate the dairy farm. 

My work in Israel education is to help provide meaning and purpose for all those knocking on my door with curiosity. Before I always thought my work was guiding people exploring the buffet of identity options they have, and that Jewish, Judaism, Israel, are simply one of the many options they have to explore a meaningful life. Now it may be because there's no choice. All Jews, whether they find being Jewish something worthwhile to explore or not, may be forced to explore it because of these events. It's now on us, Jewish professionals, educators, and lay leaders to help them find that meaning and purpose. My colleague Zohar Raviv has a great line - and I paraphrase -- let's be less about the "oy" and more about the "joy" in Jewish education. 

This oy we're experiencing right now is going to force so many to find the joy in their Jewishness. We got a long way to go, but it's on us to empower all Jews seeking it to find it. What other option do we have? 

This Israeli flag on Kfar Aza, even with a hole, still stands. 

עם ישראל חי