It was a Shabbaton held in Long Island where residents are going about their daily lives feeling relatively safe. But as the two guests spoke, the invitees were transported to the volatile surroundings that was Kibutz Kfar Aza as the day dawned on October 7th.
The Shabbaton was inspired by our good friend Manny Malekan. The very talented organizers, Erit & Payman Partovi and Angela & Omid Chaman , conceived of the initiative to raise funds for Ezer Mizion’s war effort and ably brought the event to fruition with the myriad of logistics it entailed.
War in Israel
Ilanit and her 13 year old daughter, Renana, were our guests of honor (and indeed they were deserving of the highest honors!). As they spoke, the audience shared their terror as they lived through the horrific nightmare that was October 7th. A young girl, her mother, her grandmother huddled in dread and trepidation as they took leave of each other on what appeared to be their last day on this earth.
“I want to say the Shma,” whispered the just barely bas mitzvah child.
“Not now. I think it’s supposed to be said only at the last second,” her trembling mother whispered back. “Goodbye, my precious daughter. Thank you for being the best daughter ever.”
“Goodbye,” she said to her own mother. “Please forgive me for bringing you here to Kibutz Kfar Aza. I thought it would be just a visit. Please forgive me. Please! You were such a good mother to me. And look how I repay you!”
“It wasn’t your fault. How could you have known?!!! You have always been a wonderful daughter,” sobbed the frail matriarch of the family as she bravely faced the malach hamoves (Angel of Death).
“Mommy,” said the petrified teen, “if we ever get out of this alive, I promise I’ll let you kiss me whenever you want…”
Silently they cowered in a corner. Holding tight to each other, holding tight to the last moments of their lives. To the right of them, to the left…all around them, neighbors were being killed. “Just we were left! Why??? It was like Pesach (Pasover) when Hashem (G-d) skipped over the houses of the Jews.”
After an eternity of hours, the IDF arrived but we didn’t – couldn’t – believe it. All day, the terrorists had been demanding that we open up, saying they are the IDF. Is it possible that this is the real IDF??? Is it possible that the nightmare is over??? We asked them to send a specific code. They said they will but it never arrived. Suddenly we felt tired. So deep-down, bone tired. We had no more energy to fight the inevitable. Said Renana, “I’m going to open the door… I can’t do this anymore…I just can’t. If it’s not the IDF, so be it…” In my hand, I held a vial of perfume to hurl at them, if it was not the IDF. Somehow I thought that would help… But it was! It was really our soldiers!!!
It took them five minutes to evacuate us but it was a two-hour walk to safety. There were only enough vehicles for the elderly and small children. And so we walked, our bodies accompanied by the protection of the IDF, our souls still accompanied by the terrors of the barbarians. Hundreds of traumatized victims, putting one foot in front of the other. Unable to process the horrors of the preceding hours. Like zombies they walked. Not capable of thinking, of planning, of understanding. A sea of tormented automatons.
Renana was separated from her mother. Despondently she trudged, the tears now appearing and pouring down her cheeks. An older girl took her arm and encouraged her. You’ll soon be safe. You’ll be together again with your mother and grandmother. This is not the time to cry. Not now. Now you must use your strength to walk. When we reach safety — there you will cry.
Eventually they did reach a safe haven. There was food. They hadn’t eaten in so long. Each family was given one room. It wasn’t much but it was enough. Enough to begin to heal from the horrors of October 7th.
Back in the Gehenom (inferno) of their home in Kibutz Kfar Aza , Renana had promised, “If we get out of this alive, I promise to keep Shabbos”
“That’s a big undertaking. Perhaps too much for you. I think you should make it three Shabbosim.” cautioned her mother, always a mother even under such conditions. .”
With pride and happiness in her voice, Renana announced at the Shabbaton, “This was the first!” May the power of Shabbos inspire them both to keep Shabbos after Shabbos after Shabbos with the clear knowledge that it was for this that they were saved.
