By Brina Chu

This past July, I set off on a volunteer trip to Israel. While I live in New York City, I stay up to date on the news coming out of Israel, but this trip was a sharp reminder that it is never quite the same thing to read about information as it is to observe it. While day-to-day life has mostly resumed in Israel, posters of the hostages and political signage are ever-present, most of my Israeli family and friends know of people who have either died, been injured or have been called in to assist the army, and there is a general sense of unease about the future, especially regarding the volatility surrounding Israel’s Northern border. And while I and my volunteer group were at the NOVA site, reading heartfelt testimonies written by the victims’ families and friends, we could hear loud booms in the distance, sounds which our tour guide assured us likely originated from the Israeli army’s artillery in Gaza, but flinch-inducing sounds which nonetheless left us shaken.

I experienced a strange mixture of emotions while on my trip: laughter and amusement while joking around with fellow volunteer participants as we struggled to prune grape plants in the burning 90 degree heat, shock and grief as we explored the site of the NOVA music festival, where many were murdered or taken hostage by Hamas, peace and calm while walking through the empty, car-less Jerusalem streets on Shabbat, love and clarity as I felt, over and over again, an unmistakable feeling of shared Jewish identity, values and purpose.

My flight back to New York left on August 1, shortly after Iran announced that a retaliatory attack was imminent. As my plane took off, conflicting feelings and thoughts passed through my mind. While I was relieved to be leaving the region before an attack could be launched, I also felt guilty for leaving during a time when many people I loved were feeling vulnerable and hopeless, and peace amongst Israel and her neighbors seemed so elusive. I found myself acquainted with the sensation of being caught between two worlds: my reality back in the US, and the reality on the ground in Israel and Gaza.

I wondered if it was possible to both be invested in affecting social change in the U.S, while also wrestling with the issues that continue to plague Israel and the global Jewish people. I want to believe that it is, and that I don’t have to choose between living in one world or the other, despite the thousands of miles of distance.

Global Jewry is an initiative which fundamentally believes that we must reach outside of ourselves and our day-to-day lives to engage with others who need our support, even when our instinct is to do what is easy; stick our heads back into the sand and just focus on what is right in front of us.

I think we could all benefit from that principle, even when it’s uncomfortable for us to act on it.

Shabbat shalom,

Brina

Senior Consultant, Global Jewry

MSW Candidate, NYU Silver School of Social Work

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