Amid rising tensions on college campuses, I recently joined more than 200 Chabad on Campus emissaries from 14 countries for our summer conference in Israel.
Holding the meeting in Israel was a powerful demonstration of our shared commitment and solidarity.
I was deeply moved by the experiences we had, witnessing firsthand the pain, courage and resilience of our dear brothers and sisters, and I would like to introduce you to some of them.
Elisha
Elisha was one of the wounded soldiers I visited at Sheba Medical Center, sitting in a wheelchair, missing both his legs. Elisha was in two reserve units, but when the terrorists attacked on Oct. 7, he drove straight for the war zone, asking, “How can I help?” He dodged destroyed cars and carnage, saving lives. Elisha was then put into combat in Gaza, where as a navigator, he sometimes entered dangerous areas first.
“Our unit had Ruach Hashem, a spirit from Hashem, just like it says in the bible,” he said. “We were not afraid. We were ready to die for each other.”
One day, they received intelligence that a Hamas unit was going to attack them from a tunnel. They destroyed it, but it was too late, and the house exploded and collapsed. Elisha and his best friend were evacuated, both losing their legs, and Elisha’s childhood friend didn’t make it. They declared him dead and were about to do the same for Elisha, but some outside force kept him alive. He believes it’s everyone’s prayers for the soldiers from around the world.
In the hospital, his body was non-functional. He couldn’t breathe or drink on his own, but slowly, his faculties returned. He describes the first drink of water, with a blessing, as the greatest thing he has ever tasted.
Now he dreams of getting prosthetics for his legs and going home. He blesses us with appreciation for everything we’re doing on our campuses – being on the “front lines” against antisemitism – which I can’t help but feel is so small in comparison. But he really means it, which is perhaps the greatest compliment any of us has ever received.
Sivan
The day we arrived in Israel was meant to be the wedding night of Sivan’s beloved son, Uri. Sadly, he was killed in Gaza while defending his people. Instead, she hosted a special event in Jerusalem, and we got to be part of it. On what would have been her son’s wedding day, she dedicated the completion of a unique Torah scroll by young, single men and women who were looking for their other half. As the scribe inscribed each sacred letter, he prayed for each one – a book of yearning, hope and prayer.
We sang, danced and heard the soldier’s mother speak deeply moving words. It was heart-wrenching, but she somehow uplifted us by showing us how to channel tears into action. Instead of dancing at her son’s wedding, we danced with thousands of young men and women, blessing them for their future weddings.
Oren and Uri
Oren Laufer is a brave man we met at the Nova Festival site. Chabad on Campus asked me to deliver an address at this site. It was difficult to speak on such sacred ground blanketed with the blood and sacrifice of our brethren. I did my best to speak from the heart and uplift my friends. I then had the honor to introduce Oren. He was a local guy – not a soldier or medic – who had lived in the area his entire life. When he found out what was happening on Oct. 7, he went out with his truck and began ferrying hundreds of people to safety from the festival throughout the entire day. He faced certain death again and again but kept going back, making tens of trips in 12 hours.
Along with Oren, we heard from Uri, an attendee of the Nova Festival who sadly lost two friends while escaping in a car. He jumped out of the car and lay on the ground alone in no man’s land with bullets whizzing by. He waited hours for help until Oren received their coordinates, found them and pulled them out. He saved their lives that day.
At this place of senseless murder and death, we sang the great declaration of belief and trust in the coming redemption, “Ani Maamin.” We spontaneously broke into a song of Simchat Torah as Noam and Uri hopped onto our shoulders. It felt right to recreate a Simchat Torah moment in a place where our joy had been so horribly violated on this holiday nine months ago.
Shlomo
One evening we gathered in the beautiful Judean hills to support an incredible group of heroes. We knew we were supposed to have a barbecue with some soldiers, but we didn’t know the details. We discovered that these individuals were from a special unit that deals with the hardest job of all: the Chevra Kadisha, processing bodies and human remains, ensuring proper identification and burial for every Jew. They are on a different kind of front line and have their own types of injuries. As one of them told me in a whisper, “Our unit is not injured in our bodies but in our souls. And it’s not visible from the outside like bodily injuries are, so nobody realizes that it’s there.”
One of my colleagues shared about his efforts to encourage everyone watching the dancing to become participants. Many readily agreed, except for one 7-year-old boy, Shlomo, who was watching with his mother. He was very reticent, and something seemed to bother him. But the rabbi gently persisted, and eventually, the boy went to dance and had a great time.
When he was done, the mother explained. “My son’s father was killed on Oct. 7. We are currently removed from our home by war and live with my family, and my brother is currently serving in Gaza. My son constantly waits to hear bad news about his uncle. Tonight was the first time I saw him smile since his father was killed…”
Rachel and Jon
And finally, my friends, meet Rachel and Jon, the parents of Hersh Goldberg-Polin, a 23-year-old hostage in Gaza. I was deeply moved by their bravery and courage. How can one live with the knowledge that their son is being held hostage deep underground in Gaza, yet carry their message with dignity, resilience, hope, faith and an enduring message to others to do more?
They are organizing so much – a dedication of a Torah scroll for their son’s release (the money was raised in a week) and a “Week of Good” that started the same day we saw them. Rachel said she was told to “pray like it only depends on Hashem, and work like it only depends on you.” She also mentions that a friend recently gave them a dollar from the Lubavitcher Rebbe, and it turned out to be marked the 4 Tishrei, which happens to be her son Hersh’s birthday.
Spending five days in the Holy Land was a powerful experience. The stories, anecdotes and experiences we had in this short time were profound, painful and inspiring. Every soldier I met, I hugged and embraced with so much love, and everywhere we went, I saw many broken yet strong people. People in the streets kept expressing their gratitude for our visit and support, telling us how this means the world to them, to know that they are not alone in this very difficult struggle.
I now return to our campus at KU with a renewed sense of commitment, intensity and success, empowered by having witnessed the incredible resilience and courage of our people.
You can do your part as well, my friends. Show your support by increasing good deeds and prayers (it really helps) and by sending your financial support. Together we will each do our part to usher in an era of redemption when there will be no pain and sorrow — only peace, goodness and joy will be felt in the air.
