As my two weeks in Israel come to a close, my head is spinning. It will take time to process it all. I welcome your questions, but there are no short answers and no easy sound bites. When we sit down to explore these ideas, order the venti with an extra shot.

The Amplify Israel Trip[1]

Day 1 was spent in Tel Aviv, talking with people charged with telling Israel’s story in more than a tweet. We heard from Dan Hagari, former IDF spokesperson, about the near-impossible task of transmitting daily updates to both the Israeli public and a global audience. Einat Wilf, author and former MK on the left, spoke about the big picture and about a political journey that mirrors much of Israeli society, moving from the left toward the center and right. We met Rabbi Gilad Kariv, an Israeli Reform rabbi and current MK on the left, and Eylon Levy, a social influencer navigating Israel’s information war.

Day 2 took us to Kibbutz Kfar Azza, which looks a lot Pleasanton. There, we met residents and heard their stories of October 7. Of all the people we encountered on the trip, I was most taken with Leora Eilon, a woman of my age, who raised her now-adult children there. On October 7, she spent 36 hours in a safe room with her grandchildren while terrorists destroyed much of the kibbutz and murdered many residents, including her 41-year-old son. Her message was to push back against the cynical claim that “the peace activists were the first to get killed.” Before October 7, she volunteered with a group that drove Palestinians to hospitals. When she emerged from the safe room, she saw that while the world had changed forever, she would not let it change her. She still believes peace is possible, that it is a matter of education, and that there is work to be done on both sides.

From Kfar Azza, we went to the Nova festival site, now a national memorial.

We heard from Remo Hozail, a Bedouin Arab Muslim Israeli police officer who rescued more than 200 people, shepherding them to safety and helping the wounded.

The memorial is beautiful and deeply moving. Being there transported me back to the

Las Vegas Community Healing Garden, created after the October 1, 2017, massacre at the Route 91 Harvest Festival. My mother and I were within the target zone of that shooter when he was already in position. In both cases, Nova and Route 91, acts of terror ripped away my sense of safety and protection in the world.

From Nova, we traveled to Shlomit and Pri Gan, communities along the Egyptian–Gaza border. On October 7, Shlomit had enough civilian defenders to protect itself. Pri Gan did not. Two defenders from Shlomit went to help. They saved the women and children of Pri Gan, though several of the defenders were killed in the fighting.

We visited the Bedouin city of Rahat to hear about daily life as a minority on Israel’s periphery. The Bedouin community is grappling with rising unemployment, poverty, and crime as it transitions from a nomadic culture to settled life.

Days 3 and 4 included a powerful presentation by Professor Eyal Fruchter, a leading clinician and researcher in suicide prevention and PTSD who works closely with the IDF. The weight of the last two and a half years, combined with untended psychic wounds from earlier wars, continues to affect soldiers long after they return to civilian life. His team works to help people move through moments of terror and fear rather than becoming frozen inside them. Given that almost everyone has served in the army, there are public service announcements on tv as to how to help someone experiencing a panic attack.

In Modi’in, we met Dr. Cochav Elkayam-Levy, founder and chair of the Civil Commission "October 7 Crimes by Hamas Against Women and Children". She has taken on the critically important and emotionally brutal task of documenting sexual violence so victims’ voices are heard on the international stage, whether the world wants to listen or not.

Thankfully, Shabbat arrived. We attended the Yotzma synagogue in Modi’in for Kabbalat Shabbat, dinner, and home hospitality. Flowers, song, delicious food, and warmth provided a much-needed change of pace. Shabbat morning, we davened with the Beit Daniel community in Tel Aviv–Jaffa and enjoyed a bar mitzvah. I was surprised to learn that Yotzma and Beit Daniel are part of a network of more than 50 Reform synagogues in Israel.

Day 5 began early in East Jerusalem. We met Samir Sinijlawi, a Palestinian moderate and Fatah opposition leader working toward coexistence. He said all the right things, but at its core, his message was stark. If Israel annexes the West Bank, it will be the end of the Jewish state as we know it. Annexation is his dream. Several million Palestinians would gain rights that cannot be ignored. And if Israel does not annex the West Bank, the status quo cannot continue and will keep boiling over.

We continued to Hebrew Union College (HUC) along roads I barely recognized. When I finally oriented myself, I realized we had come in via Derech Hebron, far past where I once worked in a small store. The sheer scale of construction in this part of Jerusalem was mind-blowing. Entire neighborhoods have risen, reshaping the city beyond imagination.

At HUC, we met Haviv Rettig Gur, who serves as the political correspondent and senior analyst for The Times of Israel. “Israel is at a crossroads,” he said. “We won the ground war. Hamas won the information war. Both sides believe they won.” His takeaway was clear: Israel must win both. His proposal was blunt: make everything up to the “yellow line” flourish so Palestinians see that under Hamas, nothing advances. Sadly, he doubts the current Israeli government can make that strategic decision.

Then came the US Ambassador to Israel, Mike Huckabee. Huckabee is charming and disarming. He represents a president undoing many things I hold dear, and yet I found myself liking him. He is very good at Q&A (questions and avoidance). He distinguishes between being ambassador to the Land of Israel and the State of Israel, seeing himself as ambassador to both, fitting for a fundamentalist Christian. As an American official, he noted that Marxism animates much of the far left, while ambivalence toward Jews and Israel characterizes much of the far right. Both lead to dangerous outcomes. Silence, he said, is agreement. He reiterated the American position that rebuilding Gaza cannot begin until Hamas is disarmed. I found myself asking an uncomfortable question: if the Democratic candidate were anti-Zionist, would I vote for a pro-Israel Republican?

Our final meeting that day was with the Minister of Foreign Affairs, Amichai Chikli, whose portfolio includes world Jewry. I found him condescending and dismissive of liberal Judaism. While his ministry funds important programs, the tone felt belittling rather than supportive. He governs like a strongman and is motivated by fear of radical Islam and antisemitism.

Days 6 and 7 took us north. We visited Julis, an Israeli Druze village, to learn about their lives and the Druze community in Sweida, Syria. Druze communities are interconnected, and what happens to one affects all. The evidence of a recent, and possibly ongoing, massacre was graphic and horrifying. Beyond the obvious human concern, this was meant to highlight that there is an Arab minority loyal to Israel, serving in its army, and suffering largely outside the world’s gaze. The world’s spotlight is fixed on Israel and Gaza because Jews are expected to be a “light unto the nations.” No one says much about Sweida or the situation in Somalia. Some attribute this double standard to antisemitism. I think it’s more complicated.

When Jews and Israelis grapple with the moral and ethical challenges of this war, we ask whether we have come up short. We are pained and sometimes disappointed by the actions of the Israeli government and army. The broader world asks the same questions. With biblical framing, Jews are expected to be “a light unto the nations.” We are indeed a light, but no one said this would be comfortable. Perhaps it is not a compliment but a warning: you will be watched, judged, and measured.

We continued to the Syrian border, nearly freezing during an outdoor briefing. On clear days, one can see Damascus, @25 miles away. The message was reiterated yet again: in the Middle East, you must be strong, or you will be wiped out.

In Kfar Blum, we met Rabbi Orit Rozenblit to discuss the situation of the Oct 7 60,000 evacuees from the north. Many have returned to find the social infrastructure weakened and services diminished. “We had an agreement with the government to keep us safe,” she said, “and it didn’t follow through.” This refrain echoed the next day along the Lebanese border. “We are not safe,” one resident told us flat-out. Without a coherent government vision for rebuilding these communities, the picture remains bleak, despite the region’s beauty and strategic importance.

Our final meal together was at Uri Buri in Akko, a wonderful seafood restaurant. Uri Buri models coexistence with Jewish and Arab (primarily Muslim and Christian) staff working side by side. The food deserved lingering and careful pairing with local wines, but that simply wasn’t the rhythm of this trip.

As important as the Amplify trip was, equally formative were the three days before and

the three days afterwards, spent with friends and family: the pulsating Shuk HaCarmel on a Friday afternoon before Shabbat; gridlock on a public bus in pouring rain, with everyone offering the driver advice while the bus sat unmoving for half an hour; driving up Mount Carmel on a dark night to a Druze village for hot, freshly made knafeh[2] topped with Turkish ice cream; attending a program in Hebrew with Smol Emuni, a leftist group working for coexistance; coffee with friends who made aliyah more than forty years ago and have lived through so much; and three days where I refused to speak English, living with friend and their son is in the army.

Daily life in Israel feels pretty normal on the surface. People go to work, to the markets, to restaurants, and to clubs. But when you scratch beneath that surface, there is deep anger and, sadly, a lack of unity. Whether over the Haredim (ultra-orthodox) and their refusal to serve in the army; a right-wing government exemplified by Smotrich and Ben Gvir and their fundamentalist nationalism; traffic jams caused by torrential rains; the news, which is always on and delivered in a tone that makes everything feel urgent; or friends who are now part of large groups that go up to pray on the Temple Mount, there are not many פינות שקטות, quiet corners where one can breathe.

Israeli society is vibrant, intense, spiritual, frustrating, and full of potential. I am reminded of what drew me here 40+ years ago and draws me here today: history, culture, family, friends, and the personal challenge of becoming Israeli. I return home knowing why I live in California: family, friends, quiet, and a deep sense of belonging. My heart is here. My soul will always be called to from the east.

[1] In these challenging times for Jews in North America, rabbinic leadership is more critical than ever. Stephen Wise Free Synagogue is proud to announce the third cohort of its Amplify Israel Rabbinic Fellowship, a selective year-long professional development program for early-career Reform rabbis designed to provide the tools and resources to incorporate Israel and Jewish peoplehood more fully into their practice.

[2] Knafeh: A traditional Arab dessert made with kadayif (spun pastry dough), layered with cheese, and soaked in a sweet, sugar-based syrup called attar.