I haven't written in a long time.
A few weeks ago I went again to the south, this time to another moshav, to volunteer in agriculture. I was picking oranges, which is much easier than cutting celery. I worked for many hours, following which I also worked in a food and rest station for our soldiers. It was fun and meaningful. The next day I was refreshed and up on my feet, not spent and exhausted like I was after picking celery.
I'm learning. Even though I grew up in that region of the country and was surrounded by citrus fruit orchards, I realized that working in oranges is not like growing up near them :-) I don't know if you know (I didn't), but citrus trees are actually thorny! They have thorns and if you are not careful, you get cut.
I joined some other volunteers. I was given gloves, but discarded them, because it was a warm day and it was getting hot. I had long sleeves but lifted them, because it was getting hot. We were spontaneously divided into small groups of 3 to 4 people, and each group worked on a different tree. When we finished it, we moved on to another tree and so on. After picking oranges from the outside surface of the tree, we started picking them from the inside branches. I did it for 8 hours, while most other volunteers did it for 2-3 hours and left. When we finished, I realized I was very hungry... and I realized that my hands and arms were cut all over. I have these cut marks even now, and I know they will stay for a long time, months or even years... At a certain point, I felt that I was cut by a small thorny branch in my face (in my forehead). I didn't have water to wash it and my hands were full of dirt, so I prayed to God that it won't leave a mark on my skin. When I returned home, the next day I checked in the mirror and didn't see not even a faintest trace of that cut!! I wish I had prayed the same for my hands and arms... :-)
But I don't care about it too much. I know it will go away at a certain point.
Throughout that time we were hearing explosions - the IDF bombing in Gaza. I hope our hostages will be released soon by the IDF and that all IDF soldiers will be safe and return to their families victorious.
I ate some oranges when I realized I was hungry, but it didn't satisfy me. When I reached the nearby food and rest station for soldiers, I ate to my heart's satisfaction and then started making sandwiches for our soldiers, and washing a lot of dishes, including huge pots and pans. It was fun.
Around 7 pm (I started the day at 9 am), I felt it was enough. I asked the farmer to take me to Netivot, the nearby town, so that I could catch a bus to Jerusalem, but he told me that there were two American volunteers who were traveling to Jerusalem soon. He said he would ask them if they could take me. I asked him not to do that, I didn't feel any affinity to these girls and didn't want to impose on them. But he asked them anyway and they said yes, they will take me with them to Jeursalem. It turned out it was an amazing blessing - for them, and for me as well, perhaps.
First, because they stayed there a bit longer, I had to stay there and wait for them. As I did, someone made a bonfire in the rest and food station and I was playing my recorder. People were so happy with it and it brought people together. It led to some nice conversations and warmed the hearts a bit. A German volunteer was so excited by the music and encouraged me to play more and more. He was really happy.
Then, when it was time for us to really leave, the American girls and I were a bit more acquainted with each other and less estranged from each other. We were leaving the moshav and the food and rest station. As we did, I soon recognized to our right hand side a kibbutz that I have known from my childhood, a religious kibbutz to which the terrorists tried to enter but failed. I mentioned it to the girls and they exclaimed: "Yes! It is the famous kibbutz! We've seen lots of WhatsApp videos about what happened there! We recognize the gate!!". And they asked if we could go in. We stopped next to the gate. A watchman went out to us and asked us who we were and what we wanted. He was an older American man. They told him the whole story and he said that we should get in and talk with the young shomrim (watchmen), because they were involved in the battle.
We excitedly went in. The two young watchmen eagerly spoke to us, telling us all the details of what had happened in the kibbutz on October 7th and how miraculously no one was hurt while all the terrorists were killed. They showed us a close-up picture of a dead terrorist. I couldn't watch, but the two American girls said: "We're nurses, we can watch it, no worries!" and they did. I caught a fleeting glimpse of that picture and I feel like throwing up still when I think about it. Seeing a human being dead, even if he was a brutal terrorist, is difficult.
Anyway, then another friend of them went to a nearby moshav to buy Cholent, a traditional Jewish food eaten on Shabbat. Except that it was a Thursday. But we have this custom that on Thursday night, many places serve cholent. It is fun. He asked us if we wanted to have any. We all said unanimously, YES!! When he returned with the cholent, he served us a hot, tasty dish. It was amazing!
They then told us the whole story and the girls recorded it while I was translating from Hebrew to English for them in the background (the shomrim didn't speak enough English to do it in English). They then asked us if we wanted to "pray in a synagogue that was hit by a missile". We said yes... Just as we were about to go there, I saw a round light in the sky. Growing up in that region, I was used to seeing "light bombs" that the IDF used for lighting the area. I thought it was an innocent light bomb. But it was moving horizontally, not vertically... and it was coming at us, with a slight angle away from us. I asked the shomrim innocently, "What is it?". They looked up and screamed, "Get into the shelter, it is a rocket!!!" Gladly, the shelter was just a few feet away. As we were running, the red alert alarm sounded "Tzeva Adom, Tzeva Adom". It sounded only after we saw the missile. A couple of seconds later, when we were in the shelter with our cholent in hand, there was a huge explosion. They said it didn't fall in the kibbutz. I don't know how they knew, but they were right. It fell outside of the kibbutz. We were laughing hard in the shelter. It is such a strange situation... I've never seen a missile flying my way, and so near! It wasn't that high up in the sky. The shomrim took a picture of the three of us in the shelter with cholent plates in our hands... I'll find the picture and post it here. You won't see me, because I was hiding behind one of the nurses, but you'll get the feeling.
A couple of minutes later, we left the shelter and went with the shomrim to the synagogue. It is not the formal synagogue of the kibbutz but one that is used for youth movement activities. A miracle story surrounding it is that just a few moments before the missile landed there, a 70 year old lady wanted to get into it to take cover, as the red alert sounded. She changed her mind, for some reason, and then the missile hit the place. She was saved.
We finally left the kibbutz, so excited from all of these experiences, and drove to the Baba Sali's grave in Netivot. I don't like visiting graves, but they wanted to go there, so we did. It was good, because I had a package of many Shabbat pamphlets and didn't know where to distribute it. So when we got to the grave, there were many people and I distributed it there.
Finally, when we were approaching Jerusalem, WAZE (an online GPS system) directed the girls to enter Jerusalem from such a weired place. I wondered why. It prolonged our trip. But later I realized why. In the extra time it took us to drive, the girls changed their minds about going straight to where they were staying (in the Jewish Quarter) and instead decided to take me home first. God made WAZE give them some extra time after entering Jerusalem, so that they could think and change their minds. I didn't ask them to take me home, and when they offered, I objected, but they did it anyway, which was a blessing, because at that point it was already very late at night and I was very sleepy. I fell asleep in the car when we left Netivot.
I felt throughout that adventure that God's hand was in everything that happened. If not for me driving with them, they would have never noticed that religious kibbutz. Everything was orchestrated so that they would have a once in a life time experience in Israel and I also served as an interpreter between them and the shomrim. It is important because these girls do not live here. They live in America, and only came here for a week to volunteer in different places around the country.
BTW, if we're already talking about volunteering, in the orchard I met a family from Romania. They are not Jewish and they did not speak any Hebrew. I asked them why they came now of all times. They said that a friend in need is a friend in deed and that they are friends of Israel. I asked them if it has anything to do with Genesis 12: 3. They smiled, laughed and admitted that this was it. This was the reason they came here.
Some other day in Jerusalem I saw some tourists on the street and they looked kind of lost. I asked them if they needed any help and walked with them some of the distance to where they were heading. On the way, I asked them why they came here now of all times. They said that precisely now it is important to come, to take pictures, to post on social media and show all of their friends and community that life goes on in Israel and that it is safe for everybody to come. I was impressed. The father of the family is a pastor, so his circles of influence are wide.
That's it, these are all the technical details of that crazy adventure we've had. The girls later sent me the pictures from that night. I'll find them and post them here some time, bli neder.
12/2/24: Here are some of the pictures - we're in cholents in our hands, in the shelter. I'm in the back, hiding behind one of the girls:
