By Michelle Elisburg
Guest Columnist
Louisville’s Michelle Elisburg, shown here front center holding the banner, was among about 80 moms participating on a Nov. 12-20 Momentum “Mother to Mother” Israel Unity Mission trip to Israel (photo courtesy of Michelle Elisburg)
On Oct. 7, 2023, I awoke to the news of the devastating Hamas attack on Israel with the desperate need to do something. When Momentum, an organization that empowers women to change the world through Jewish values, announced a Unity Mission for mothers, I immediately responded, “Hineni. Here I am.”
The mood at Israel’s Ben-Gurion Airport was somber with signs for bomb shelters amid photos of the 240 hostages. Reminders were everywhere in the country, with protest installations in prominent areas, from giant blindfolded teddy bears and empty baby strollers, to hourglasses representing the desperate passage of time.
Over the course of the week, our group of international and Israeli women and Mothers of Lone Soldiers cooked and baked challahs, harvested produce, and delivered donated supplies. We witnessed examples of communities giving what they have to those in need, from furnishing shelter for displaced foster teens to Mogen Dovid Adam’s “Human Milk Bank” that distributes donated breast milk. We heard harrowing stories from survivors about the attack, despite their despair that “there are no words.” We marched with the families of hostages as they walked from Tel Aviv to Jerusalem, displaying our “Bring Them Home Now” dog tags, while relatives begged us to retell their stories. As Hadassah Louisville Chapter president I made a special trip to Hadassah Hospital, where staff treat trauma victims with critical care, rehabilitation and mental-health services. I brought the Kentucky General Assembly Israel Caucus Proclamation of support for the staff, and my handmade crochet dolls for the children. The Israelis we met encouraged us to find time for joy and live Jewishly publicly, which gives them strength – we lit candles, said prayers, sang songs and danced.
Store owners appreciated our business, as there were no tourists. Repeatedly they thanked us for coming, while also expressing disbelief that we were there during a war. When I asked one merchant if I could give her a hug, she replied, “No, can I give YOU a hug?” I lost all skepticism that we were not providing enough of a service by coming.
At the United Hatzolah command center, we heard from first responders to the Nova festival. These volunteers risked their own lives saving injured concertgoers, including one who bandaged himself and kept fighting. We were also privileged to host a barbecue with the IDF’s elite Duvdevan counter-intelligence unit. As the soldiers received bags with gifts and letters, they expressed gratitude for the support of strangers from all over the world. One young man had recently married but did not have time to celebrate, so we celebrated for him. His comrade hoisted him on his shoulders and the mothers joined the rest of the unit in singing and dancing. Another soldier had just celebrated the bris of his newborn son at the base. They thanked us for coming and giving them the power to fight for and protect the community. Despite dangers and concerns, we felt and saw so much unity, joy, hope and celebration of life.
Our Momentum leaders assured us that in Judaism there is still a place for joy even when our hearts are broken. The resilience we experienced ourselves and witnessed in others comes from this ability to hold the broken and the whole simultaneously.
Now Hanukkah has started, despite some Israelis asking, “How can it be Hanukkah when it is still Simchas Torah?” I’m asking how can it be Hanukkah when it feels like Pesach? Memes calling to “Let My People Go” are on social media, while I also consider how removing drops of wine from our cups acknowledges all suffering. In Sderot, one of the communities attacked, at the place where it seems as if time stopped, where the Pesach exodus was reenacted when the people evacuated the town without time to deconstruct their sukkahs, a 40-foot-menorah was erected as a beacon of light in the darkness.
As story bearers, we carry with us the tale and personal connection commanded in the Haggadah: “In every generation you must see yourself as being personally taken out of Egypt.” All week we sang Hatikvah (“Hope”) and Am Yisrael Chai (“The people of Israel live”), because this is our story as well, and we are going to shout it to everyone and demand that they listen.
Michelle Elisburg is a Louisville pediatrician and president of the Louisville chapter of Hadassah
