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.

We visited the South of Israel 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 when I lived there.

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

Seeing what happened on the Gaza Border impacts your Jewish Neshama (soul) more than anything I’ve experienced, even more than what happened 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, 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 thereof) on their faces when speaking and “on location,” is so unique to this moment. I’ve never experienced anything like it on Tuesday when we were at Kfar Aza. Then, the next day, I went 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.

There’s that saying that the victor writes history. But the stories of tragedies and triumphs of individuals and families also 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).

I’ve taught many groups since the atrocities of October 7th, 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 experienced 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, and 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. 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-lifetime moment that will determine the future of the Jewish people for generations.

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 call to action for those outside of Israel is whenever you think it is personally safe for you to do so, 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 go to Tel Aviv and 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.

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 was the homes of friends and family of so many friends and colleagues. I lived across the street from Kfar Aza during 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 us Bogrei Nativ, alumni of my gap year). 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.

This ground zero isn’t a public space, so to speak. I’m not sure. I feel it’s right that I’m sharing the pictures I took and am sharing. And maybe that’s the American in me that respects personal space. But it was pointed out to me by one of the members of my solidarity mission. 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. 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.

I believe Zionism has never been more redeemed. Just like the original Zionist leaders, we Jews today need to take history into our 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 put our concerns first as a collective while always respecting and having empathy for others. 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 always being connected and deeply tied to your homeland.

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 in exploring the buffet of identity options they have and that Jewish, Judaism, and 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 Dr. 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 joy in their Jewishness. We have 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?