OPINION: Nothing could have prepared me for what I’ve just seen and heard

I write this on my way back from Israel after a visit to show solidarity and to see for myself where UJIA emergency funds are being spent and where we can direct them as this crisis continues. I also wanted to go and hug friends and colleagues, hear firsthand what they’d been through and lend support. As I met some of those hardest hit by the Hamas atrocity and its aftermath, nothing could have prepared me for what I saw and what I heard.

I visited Kibbutz Shefayim where survivors from Kfar Aza have been evacuated. As you walk into the Kibbutz there is board which lists all the shivas taking place that day in a special mourner’s complex. It’s heartbreaking to see many families mourning several family members at the same time.

The survivors we met, who told us of their experiences, were quick to point out that they were far from unique; a father and his daughter in law, his son, and her husband had died protecting them both and their one-month-old baby. A father who protected his family by holding onto a door handle – at one point the terrorist was looking through the keyhole at them and shot a bullet through narrowly missing his son.

They were in there for nearly 24 hours: no toilet, food or water. We heard other stories too, of survival, of heroism, and of families where no one remain to tell their stories for themselves.

We met Moira who is Scottish, 70 years old, not Jewish, and a founder member of Netiv Asara. Moira is a peace activist and her husband regularly met Palestinian kids at the border and accompanied them to Israeli hospitals for cancer treatment. As she sat in her shelter room, she heard 23 members of her kibbutz being murdered in unspeakable ways that she could not bring herself to talk about.

Yael saw her neighbours die as she sat in her safe room with her young children. Her husband handed her a gun with seven bullets. She had never handled an automatic weapon before but knew she had no choice, and it saved her life. She described how she heard the terrorists walking round the kibbutz for seven hours hunting her neighbours down.

We can’t erase their pain, but we must help preserve the memories of those who were murdered, those who fought so bravely, and those who remain and are figuring out how to put their lives back together.

Shani is a mother of two teenagers from the beachfront community of Zikim. She survived because when her alarm went off at 6.30am she was tired, and the weather was cooler than she expected so she stayed in bed a little longer. That saved her life; her friends who took their normal cycle route along the border wall were killed, meeting the terrorists head on.

All of these women are angry. They feel let down by the very people who were meant to look after them and their families. We heard time and time again that they felt that a social contract they relied on had been broken. “We lived in these border towns”, they would tell us, “and the army was supposed to look after us. What happened?” All trust has gone.

We met two mothers who had lost their two beautiful sons at the music festival; I know they were beautiful because we looked at photos together. Their sons died protecting their girlfriends who survived.

We met families who had loved ones kidnapped; I was lost for words. What do you say to a mother whose 25 year old daughter is in Gaza? Or a family who are burying three family members this week and have two held hostage?

You can do nothing but listen. It is really beyond our comprehension, or theirs.

Everyone we spoke to had one thing in common; their eyes are wells of a deep dark sadness.

They are deeply traumatised. UJIA has made trauma support a key priority and with your help, we are helping these people and many, many more. We will continue to dedicate emergency funds to supporting those who have experienced these unimaginable horrors through their anguish. It is desperately needed, and this is just the beginning.

They need our support – Israel needs our support. This is a country in deep trauma. The world needs to know that in 2023, people were hunted down and killed because they were Jewish.

We can’t erase their pain, but we must help preserve the memories of those who were murdered, those who fought so bravely, and those who remain and are figuring out how to put their lives back together. And we must keep fighting for those held hostage in Gaza.

Their plea is for us to be their voice now and in the days after. They don’t want their neighbours, their friends and their families – their beautiful communities – to ever be forgotten.

Now is the time to come together as one people and let them know that their pain is our shared pain, and we stand with them today and forever. That is our responsibility as Diaspora Jews.

I gave them my word.