Israel in a Time of War

Molly L. Ritvo

One morning in Israel last June, my Taglit-Birthright group listened closely to Neil Lazarus, a short man who spoke with a lively British accent, gestured wildly and paced around the room while lecturing on the conflict in the Middle East. The fact that I was listening to him in Jerusalem made the talk more personal. Sitting at lectures about Israel back in the States didn't hit home the same way. But hearing him speak about Israel in Israel captivated me.  

I am writing this now, while Israel is at a critical point in the cease-fire. I am writing this after having had lunch with a friend who spent last year in Migdal Ha'emsh, a small town right outside Nazareth that was recently hit by a Hezbollah rocket. I am writing this after talking to another friend who has family in the Jerusalem foothills. She said that her family refuses to leave Israel, and that her family will never turn their backs on Israel, especially during a time when their support is needed.

I am writing this after receiving an email from someone on my Taglit-birthright trip who is currently in Tel Aviv. Her words read: "Tel Aviv is bustling more than ever. It is so crowded and the morale actually seems to be high. Everywhere I go people are out, on the streets, in the markets, restaurants are more crowded than ever, bars are filled to the brim and coffeeshops are filled with loud conversations and laughter. The war doesn't stop life. In fact, it encourages life to move on."

Compared to the situation now, June was quite calm. However, I was still nervous before leaving for my trip. I thought I would feel uncomfortable seeing soldiers everywhere. I thought I would feel anxious having guards travel with us, anxious that I was going to a place that required traveling with guards in the first place.

But, when I arrived in Israel, I felt the opposite. I never felt unsafe. I didn't feel uncomfortable seeing soldiers eating lunch where we ate. It didn't feel strange having a guard walk behind us, clutching his gun. I was amazed that these things didn't make me uneasy. I realized that I was okay with it because that was just how life in Israel is, and this is the reality that Israelis live with every day.

Toward the end of the talk, Mr. Lazarus mentioned that one day last year, he was planning to travel by bus to Beersheva. He was listening to the news while fixing breakfast that morning and heard that the very bus he was planning on taking to Beersheva later that day had been bombed.

Mr. Lazarus said he waited an hour and took the next bus. It was full of people, the roads were clear and he arrived safely in Beersheva a few hours later. When a participant asked if he was scared to take that bus, Mr. Lazarus responded calmly. "It wasn't a big deal," he said.

I was struck by his nonchalance. But I understood that his attitude is precisely how life goes on in Israel. Israelis keep living. They don't stop. I used to think it was because Israelis were desensitized. I was wrong. It is not that they are desensitized; it is that they don't let disasters interrupt their lives.

After I left the lecture, I lingered on Mr. Lazarus's words, but I also couldn't get his accent out of my head. I am not sure why I was surprised that a British Jew had immigrated to Israel, but I was only beginning to understand that Israel is a homeland for any Jew, no matter where they are from.

The next day our group headed to the Israel Independence Hall in Tel Aviv, the actual place where Israel became a state on May 14, 1948, only 58 years ago. Our tour guide was from Belgium, another immigrant. As I sat in Independence Hall, I remembered Mr. Lazarus's accent, meeting a birthright group from Argentina a few days prior, and an article about teens from India who also made their way to Israel. I began to feel a deep, overwhelming sense of pride for Israel, our homeland for Jews anywhere in the world, even at times of crisis. Time and time again, Israel has proven that war, conflict, and crisis will never take away its pride or resolve to remain our homeland–forever.

Molly is the editorial intern for JVibe and an MFA candidate at Emerson College.