It suddenly hit me recently, during these past two weeks of relentless grief and endless funerals here in Israel, that the friend I've talked to for about 30 minutes a day since October 7th might think this "Israel stuff" is just something I need to vent about, like other problems I've had in the past, just something to help pass his time on his drive home from work - like he's doing me a favor by letting me "just talk."
This had never occurred to me before since for me this has been so obviously different from being upset over anything trivial, even if the trivial things have been significant, and that is because a heartbreak or a health issue (though serious) just doesn't hold a candle to what has been at stake for me and the like-minded soulmates I've met along this journey since October 7th - and that is tackling existential concepts of good versus evil, light versus darkness, and the essence of what it is to be human - like why are we actually here?
The reason this suddenly hit me was the very clear disconnect between what was happening on the ground in Israel and the messages I was receiving, that I had up until then kept counting as being "a part of the mission with me," but once the Bibas family was returned (minus the mother Shiri at first) - once that specific tragedy occurred, which I knew had made the international headlines for a solid week - I knew the texts I was receiving should have been, well - different.
I also dared have an expectation at this point - after more than 200 hours of conversation about the evils of Hamas - that something be posted about what had happened - and there were many ways to do this that were "safe" if people had a fear of not "appearing indifferent."
One way to casually show caring would have been to drop an orange heart or an orange square, since the pages I was privy to were flooded with orange, representing of course the tiny Bibas babies' beautiful red silky hair, which we all have imagined filthy as their captors strangled them with bare hands the night before the November 2023 ceasefire began.
Another way would have been to simply state sorrow that after 16 months, this entire family - who had come to represent the October 7th massacre - had been returned to Israel in coffins, in the sickest ceremony imaginable. It was so bad in fact that the UN and Red Cross themselves, who haven't criticized Hamas for a bloody thing since this war began - were beside themselves. The Red Cross didn't want to participate (but they did, under threat by Hamas). We give them no credit for this "too little, too late" itsy bitsy display of humanity here in Israel however, as they have done nothing for our hostages since day one, and have even yelled at some hostage families, demanding why they don't care more about the poor civilians in Gaza.
"People post about what's important to them," said my friend, in our last conversation, which was the day the wrong body was returned, instead of Shiri, and the next message I received was a week later, the day Israel buried Shiri (once she was actually returned) - buried her with her arms placed in an eternal embrace around her nine-month old Kfir and her four-year-old Ariel - in one coffin, as thousands of Israelis lined the streets, all the way from Rishon Le Zion (near Tel Aviv) south to Kibbutz Nir Oz - literally a two-hour stretch of highway. They lined the streets with flags to show their support for the father, Yarden Bibas, who less than a month prior, had been released after 482 days in Hamas captivity, where he endured torture and starvation by Hamas, and videos of them telling him his family was dead.
I myself wasn't able to watch this funeral live, or line the streets (despite being in Israel), as I had chosen to participate in a week-long Birthright alumni volunteer program, and last Wednesday happened to be our longest day and packed with activities. I therefore donned my orange hoodie in memory of the redheaded babies and went to Kibbutz Hazerim, a place I already know well since I spent a month there in the fall with the residents of Kibbutz Be'eri. This is where they're all living now while their homes are being torn down and then rebuilt - this is where they are essentially refugees for the next year (or three). They have become a priority for the volunteer missions - since Be'eri is so green and lush and their makeshift homes in Hazerim are basically caravans on not-so-beautiful dirt. So, my group went there to garden for them, which I am admittedly not very good at, but I did what I could, carting things back and forth in a wheelbarrow and visiting my friends Tom Hand and Gali Zorea, who I met through this writing project (which is now basically my life.)
After our morning of gardening, we continued south to the site of the Nova Music Festival, where I was made aware of a new story from the morning of October 7th, of a Bedouin (Israeli-Muslim) EMT worker, who arrived at the party and worked to save lives of the injured. He packed about ten people onto an ambulance, but Hamas terrorists returned and saw what he was doing, so set the ambulance on fire. For the next week or two a number of families were missing their children until the ambulance filled with ashes was tested - and all of their children were inside. It took DNA-testing a pile of soot - to find the bodies of ten people.
Right after learning this story, I wandered around the fields of the Nova Festival (for my second time), getting a few videos of the stories I know so well...Alon Ohel the piano player who I am fighting so hard to get out, including writing a letter to Marco Rubio after my two-hour interview with his mother, and of hostage Yosef Ahuna, whose mother I have been helping out in Hostage Square by selling a spiritual book for her...and of Eynav Levy, the late wife of Or Levy, who just came out of captivity to his young son Almog...his mom Eynav was murdered at the festival.
I then saw another area that I didn't recall seeing a year ago, so I wandered over. My eyes fell upon a beautiful blond girl named Bar, which I remembered means "Wild." I read her story and her life sounded incredibly full, rich, passionate and successful. I was therefore sickened as I continued to read, and realized that she was one of the ten piled onto the ambulance I had just learned about from my tour guide.
She was in the pile of soot - she was reduced to ashes - and found mixed with everyone else.
So, I'd missed the Bibas funeral - and knew the country had been crying all day long - but now I was crying only minutes before I needed to board the bus again. I was crying for a girl I hadn't known anything about, and overwhelmed once again that even knowing as many stories as I know and know well - that I still haven't scratched the surface. Not even close. There were 367 young people murdered - just at the Nova Music Festival.
I made a video of myself in this moment, sort of - walking aimlessly in this field - telling this young lady's story...(a friend would later tell me that I seemed pretty broken).
And then I boarded the bus and read and watched Yarden Bibas's eulogy for his wife, his four-year-old and his nine-month-old from earlier that day.
And it was then that I got the text from the person I've spent 200+ hours on the phone with since October 7th that I thought understood what this all was to me - and understood it for himself as well - and the text said, "Hope you're having a great day!" And ever since then the channel simply clicked to the right, like on an old TV set, when you could hear it and feel it as it firmly moved on over, and settled into a new position.
Somewhere around this time, I posted that I could count on one hand how many of my non-Jewish friends had been willing to post anything about what had happened in Israel or any news about the hostages, and so seeing this picture of someone I didn't even know - made me grateful for him - but sad for what the world had become.
I continued, and said that even people that I knew cared, were unwilling to "involve" themselves publicly, even over something so obviously horrific as that week's news with the Bibas children. "An orange square or heart would have been a tiny gesture of solidarity, but - no."
Our hearts break and bleed blood orange, yet our screams are heard and scrolled past. To think there were those "Righteous Among the Nations" who actually HID JEWS! At risk of DEATH! And now posting an orange heart is too much to ask.
The reaction to this post was extraordinary. One friend in Vancouver responded, "I can count on one finger," but most everyone was just in agreement that this was how they felt, and there was a huge sigh of gratitude to hear someone else say it out loud. I will admit though, that a few of my very supportive non-Jewish friends shared this post - exactly how it was written - on their own pages, and I made sure to acknowledge them for doing so.
But it was all of this build-up of strange communication that happened during exactly this hardest week in Israel, that had me begin to take a really deep look into what exactly this work is - and what exactly it isn't - and I can tell you that it isn't us "venting," and it isn't us "talking to hear ourselves talk." It isn't a "phase," and it therefore isn't something that will "pass." It is far more important than all of that - it is a matter of life or death.
Call it good old-fashioned Tikkun Olam or don't - but this is a slow burn of the heart and soul that requires dedication and energy and seems to be getting harder and not easier, which makes sense as the bodies have started to return. As one friend (who isn't Jewish - but is on this mission in as powerful a way as I am) put it:
"I know I haven't really got a right to say it but I'm feeling a bit overwhelmed today. I don't think I'd quite realized how hard things would get once the dead started being returned. It feels like there's far more darkness and sorrow than light and joy at the moment. You get a double blow every time someone is returned - the sorrow of their death plus the reminder of what they went through on 7th October and the horrible feelings you had when you first saw what happened to them. And, whereas other people did express shock and sympathy back then, now they just remain silent. It's a really isolating experience. (I know I'm preaching to the choir, obviously - I know this is exactly how you're feeling, too.)"
And wow - how it was what I was feeling, though I hadn't had it reported back to me quite so eloquently before, and I needed to hear it, too.
And so the conversations about this mission - and the challenges of it all - really became front and center since last week, and I expect them to remain that way, and there is no anger or hard feelings at anyone in my life, just a recognition that my energy needs to be put in the right places, and that 200 hours of one-on-one "education" should be making a difference in the world, and if it isn't - then perhaps that energy is best spent elsewhere.
Because the reality is - this is not just an Israel problem - or a Jewish problem - and that is the thing I and we - are having the hardest time getting through to the indifferent majority out there. This is a problem for the West, and there has been proof of this as cars run over people at Christmas markets in Germany and on New Year's Eve in New Orleans, so I don't know what it's going to take for people to get what I/we are telling them: these Hamas psychopaths who did what they did to people who happened to be in Israel on that Black Saturday (Jews and non-Jews, Israelis and non-Israelis) - we may be the most hated and the closest geographically at the moment, but their Radical interpretation of Islam states that they must follow Sharia law - and that all people who disagree with them must be dealt with in a similar violent manner, and they will not stop until they have achieved this worldwide. What my friends and I are doing 24/7 is sharing things of educational value in the constant hope that our friends will pass it along. We are not sharing what we are sharing to have it stop with us, or go round and round amongst ourselves, which is currently the way it is. That is pointless. That is fruitless. We are working hard to educate - and we are frustrated that whether due to actual indifference or paralyzing fear or their own hatred our message doesn't carry very far - and yes this can be maddening at times - but not enough to stop our hard work, because this isn't a conscious choice - this is the only choice.
I myself cannot understand the 80% who choose not to participate, especially those who are privy to so much inside information and seem to have a firm grasp on what is at stake. I can't understand having all of that knowledge and then choosing consciously to sit on the sidelines and wait and see if it comes to your doorstep before you choose to involve yourself any more than necessary.
But to each his own, and to each her own, and if I need to regroup and refocus my energies than to each my own, if that can be said, and I am pretty sure it can.
The past 16 months should have been the world's wake-up call, but it seems nothing can get past the mind-numbing insular lands of news feeds and absentminded scrolling. It seems if people can live in la-la land and pretend things aren't happening, many will choose to do just that, but that has never earned my respect.
I was raised to not look away, but to look at the problem and do everything in my power to do something about it, and not only that but to help inspire others to do the same. That was how my mother lived her life, and though we had our differences, she instilled this value in me. I just got to honor my mother for the second year in a row here in Israel, now spending both her 10th and 11th yurtzeits (anniversary of her death) in Hostage Square, where this year I lit a candle for her on Alon Ohel's piano as well as alongside the new Bibas family memorial.
It is my hope that my mom's powerful energy can help the pain and suffering of the grieving families in this square, as well as send hope and healing energy to Alon and the other hostages who continue to suffer in hell in Gaza.
After watching Eli Sharabi's full interview about what he endured in captivity, I am that much more confused at how these stories aren't being consumed by the masses. When this tragedy first occurred, I thought I would be one of millions racing to Israel to talk to the families - I then uploaded videos of family members and still have just 25 views after 15 months. Even something as "sensational" as being taken hostage by a terror group generates no interest it seems, which means that the only people watching the Holocaust movies - were us, "the Jews."
I'd grown up thinking the world watched them. I'd grown up thinking that the world regretted that more than anything and that we would all be doing what I am doing in the event of the events we are living through now. As upsetting as the terror attack and its aftermath has been, nothing has been more shocking or more earth-shattering than the deafening silence and lack of interest from most corners of the world about this attack, and the hostage crisis ever since. I never would have predicted this would be a solo battle for the Jewish people to take on, but it seems we are, and it seems as per usual, we aren't doing it just for ourselves. As exhausted and grief-stricken as we are (including the survivors themselves from Kibbutz Be'eri and the family members of hostages) - we are all working around the clock to share the dangers with the world - of what this means for them. We are all looking out for everyone else - when we don't have to. We are doing it because we care - because that is who we are. We seem to have no other choice. May we all maintain our strength in this fight for our people, our nation, our soul and for humanity.
May the memories of Oded Liftshitz, Shiri Bibas, Ariel Bibas, Kfir Bibas, Tzachi Idan, Ohad Yahalomi, Itzik Elgart and Shlomo Mansour be blessings for all who knew and loved them - and those of us who didn't but feel as though we did.
Melanie Preston is an international writer who took herself by herself to Israel in the weeks following October 7th, feeling a need to be here and write about the hostage crisis. Having made aliyah in her 20s, life required her to leave. At the time of the attack, she had not been to Israel in eleven years. Since October 7th, she has spent six months in Israel alone, unable to tear herself away from these families and this important work. To support her writing (and her still paying two rents across the world), visit her GoFundMe. Her hope is to move back to Israel full-time within the year. Thank you and Shalom from Israel.
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