Sarah Bronson ’90, Jerusalem

(Made aliyah in 2003)

I admire those of my friends and acquaintances who have the fortitude to advocate for Israel in
social and mainstream media. I learned long ago that, now that I live here, it’s critical for my
mental health to ignore the news somewhat – a surprising and disappointing realization for
someone who used to work as a journalist.

So I survive by living in a state of willful denial, merely checking over headlines but never fully
reading articles, skimming over social media, turning off videos about “the situation.” And most
important of all, reminding myself over and over that it is not my personal responsibility to
correct everyone who is wrong on the internet.

It is not my job to correct the people saying that Israel is an evil, apartheid state that seeks to
deliberately kill innocent people. It is not my job to correct the people who say that Israel and
Israelis never do anything wrong and hold absolutely no blame at all for what is happening. It is
not my job to make Israel perfect, because I can’t. And it’s not my job to eliminate antisemitism
from the world, because I can’t.

But I wish I had the strength to do things that are not my job, and I wish I was a miracle worker.
I wish our world wasn’t so polarized and that we could all talk about actual issues without
resorting to what-about-isms.

In some ways it is easy to close my eyes and pretend nothing is wrong. I live in Armon Hanatziv,
on the outskirts of southeast Jerusalem, and have not heard a single air-raid siren in my
neighborhood all this time. No one I know personally has been injured or killed (bli ayin hara),
though many of my close friends in other locations have been dealing with children traumatized
by the sirens. Some are staying with in-laws to escape the constant rockets. In theory if I never
read the news or opened my phone or called my friends, I would have no idea anything was
wrong – that’s how peaceful and quiet it has been in my own small bubble.

Still, since I do scan headlines, and do open my phone, and do talk to people, enough
information filters into my consciousness to make an impact, and so I can’t help but feel the
weight of fear, confusion, anger, bitterness, some shame, and guilt that perhaps I could be doing
more if protecting my mental health wasn’t a higher priority for me. I’m afraid to leave my
apartment right now to do some grocery shopping, because my neighborhood is surrounded by
Arab ones, and there have been several rock-throwing “incidents,” including one just one street
over from mine.

My neighborhood Whatsapp groups are abuzz with questions about which schools are closed?
Are those fireworks we hear or gunshots? (They are fireworks for the end of Ramadan.), Are
certain rumors the kids pick up on TikTok real or fake news? (Fake news.) Is it safe to go to the
mall right now? (Well, it was safe three hours ago . . . ).

Someone’s child’s nursery school teacher emailed all the parents asking them to talk with their
children about racism, and how it’s OK to be angry but not OK to want to kill every single Arab.
Tomorrow there is a “protest against the violence” at my local community center, where people
with signs in Hebrew and Arabic will distribute chocolates and candies in honor of both Shavuot
and Eid al-Fitr. Yesterday, my friend’s daughter and son-in-law had to quickly take their three
tiny children out of the car and huddle next to a wall when the air-raid siren went off.

So I am stressed and scared and angry at pretty much everyone, and I feel so, so powerless. And
I’m incredibly glad I live here. First of all because most of the time, living here is nothing but a
gift. But second, before I moved here, at a time like this I would have felt that I have to do
something. I would have felt it’s my job to speak up for Israel against its haters, because that’s
the least I can do.

But now I’ve done much more than the least. I live here, I work here, I try to be a good neighbor
here. And I try to remember that, for now at least, that’s going to have to be enough.

Dr. Ilya Pittel ’01, Lod

Normally, Lod is a city with peaceful coexistence between Muslims and Jews, although 20 years
ago there was serious rioting. On the night of May 11, three shuls were set alight, but my shul,
Dosa, has been spared thus far. An elementary school, Talmud Torah, was not so lucky.

Last night (May 11) the Arabs burned busses, police cars, police stations, tens of Jewish cars,
and some business. The riots came onto the footsteps of our friends’ home in the Hashmonaim
neighborhood and three Jews fired their handguns into the air to warn off the rioters. One of
these shots ended up killing an Arab, who has close family ties to the local criminal element. The
Jew whose shots killed the Arab was arrested immediately, but the other two Jews, including my
friend, who shot into the air as a warning, were also arrested and are still sitting in prison.
Another resident (a friend's brother) decided to leave town as a result of the discord, but upon
coming home found that it was broken into and ransacked and his second car was burned. 

The current law makes Jewish self-defense impossible and allows rioters, especially Arabs, to
function outside of the legal system. The Israeli-Arabs are allowed to burn and destroy without
penalty while the Jews get arrested for defending themselves. 

Last night in the middle of the mayhem, my neighbors wanted to go out to protect the buildings
and cars but some suggest it's safer to stay home with the doors locked. The Arabs will always
have better weapons (automatic assault rifles) and the government isn't able to control them so
they de facto function outside of the law that should govern everyone equally. 

Lod's mayor has called the situation a Kristallnacht, https://www.timesofisrael.com/kristallnacht-

in-lod-state-of-emergency-as-arab-mobs-set-synagogues-on-fire/, which speaks not only to the
destruction of Jewish property but also to the lack of a Jews' ability to defend themselves (who
would believe that the situation was the same in Germany of 1940s and Israel of 2020s). By 1:30
a.m. the situation got so bad that PM Netanyahu came for a tour of Lod, called an emergency,
and ordered in the military border police. At this point, the police started throwing flashbang
grenades and dispersing the riots. Between the noise of the grenades, shooting, and calls of the
muezzin, fireworks are heard in the background celebrating the last few days of Ramadan. 

During the daytime quiet and peacefulness returns (Muslims are busy fasting in Ramadan). This
afternoon, my neighborhood organized a mini-gathering (Corona is pretty much forgotten
already) with flag-waving, ice-lollies, and music for the kids, which was a nice reprieve from the
previous night's stressful events. 

Unlike yesterday, tonight, 48 hours after it all started, it seems that there is no military border
police in sight, yet there is a curfew in place from 8 p.m.till 4 a.m.(it's unclear who is enforcing
said curfew). I just received word that Jews from the Shomron came with sticks to Lod to defend
various Jewish neighborhoods. I went downstairs to take a look and in fact, we too have a bunch
of young adults with sticks standing guard (from Kdumim and Yitzhar).

Now that the Israeli military received the green light from the government to attack Gaza, the
fighting will continue until Hamas is battered down enough so as not to pick another fight for a
few more years. This will probably take a few more days of bombing Gaza and of sleepless
nights for the Israelis with rocket distance waking up between sirens to run to the shelters, safety
rooms, and stairwells (the next best thing). Hopefully, the situation in Lod will also subside in a
few days without any more property damage or lives lost. 

The view from Ilya Pittel’s balcony in Lod.

David Kahan ’79, Ra’anana

After peaceful nights, I wake up and thank God for giving me the profoundly rewarding gift that
is the opportunity to live in Israel.

And then there are nights like last night, when we have to scurry to the shelter in the middle of
the night because we are under rocket fire from enemies who wish to kill us.  After nights like
that I wake up (a little more tired) and thank God for giving me the profoundly rewarding gift
that is the opportunity to live in Israel.

Dovid Green and his family try to make the best of sheltering.

Dovid Green ’00, Modi’in

It has been hard but I don't think as chaotic as they (the media) purport. We have been sleeping
together in the secure room (MaMad) due to a few sirens (two on Tuesday night, one on
Thursday night) that was in our area, Modi’in). Trying to keep the kids calm and relaxed...
explaining the basics of the issues but that we are also safe as long as we follow the protocol (we
hope).

You do hear soft 'booms' throughout the day in the area and you assume that the Iron Dome is
doing its job. At the same time, the shops and markets are pretty full. People aren’t simply sitting
in cafes too much, but they are running errands, going to appointments etc. The local strip mall
here had a full parking lot today. Life goes on... just with sleepover parties.

Dr. Leora Danzig Leeder ’86, Jerusalem

On Monday night (May 10), my daughter Raphaela and I were sitting at home eating dinner, as
she told me stories about all the activities they had done in school that day for Yom
Yerushalaim.  Her sixth-grade class had organized and staffed a charity fair for the younger
grades, and they had a special tefilla in the morning.  An hour earlier, we had been at the Malcha
Mall, doing the most normal thing of shopping and errands. 

We heard the sirens go off, and it took a minute to register that it was for real. Then I told my
daughter that we could ignore it, because they “never shoot at Jerusalem.”  Then the house
started shaking, and we heard three missiles that seemed to explode close to our area.

We hid in Raphaela’s bedroom, because it is the safest room in the house – smallest window and
reinforced walls - and because the bomb shelter for the building was locked.  All we could hear
outside was sirens.

(The bomb shelter was locked because it is not just for our building; the Municipality of
Jerusalem built it to be available for the whole street.  So they have the key and they don’t trust
anyone with access.  I did call them later that night and demanded a key, and they told me not to
worry, there is an area supervisor who would open it for us if we needed it.  It didn’t make me
feel much better.)

Surprisingly, I was less traumatized by the event, but Raphaela was really shaken up, she
experienced a full-on panic attack, and created a “bunker” in her room, in case we had to hole up
there all night. While we were able to sleep through the rest of the night, the entire south of the
country was under attack all night, and the next day, Hamas started attacking Tel Aviv and the
center of Israel as well. 

Officially all schools in the country were meant to be closed, but in Jerusalem they have decided
to keep the schools open for now.  Which is not to say that the students in my daughter’s class
are less stressed than any other children in the country.  They have run bomb shelter drills for the
last two days.

As well, some of Raphaela’s other activities (Dance, Scouts, Guitar Lessons) have been
cancelled because of the current danger of the situation.
It’s distressing to me, that in 2014, all the bombing and the hiding in the bomb shelter
represented an odd adventure for her; now that she’s older, and understands the real-life
implications, it has become much more scary.

All this is compounded by the political turmoil taking place in Israel, as we all try as hard as we
can to avoid a fifth round of elections.  Israel is a beautiful country, and I wouldn’t live anywhere
else, but the life here seems to test us every day.  We are just coming out of Corona and haven’t
had time to breathe.

Jessie Zimble (wife of Elie Zimble ’08), Sha’alvim

In Shaalvim, if you hear a siren you have 90 seconds to get somewhere safe. (That’s considered a
lot of time.) We don’t have a safe room. On Tuesday night a siren went off at 9 and Eli and I
were unable to get our four sleeping children, ages six and under, to our downstairs neighbor in
time. It probably took us 2.5 minutes. That’s too slow if a rocket actually hits.

Since then, in the middle of the night when we ourselves were asleep and heard a siren, we have
been moving our kids to our hallway — the most secure part of our apartment. But it’s been a
few days of this and the rockets are directed to places close to us and there was another siren
tonight for Modi’in.

I felt like we need to be able to get downstairs at the very least, since we can’t make it to the
closest shelter. We decided we can make it down in 90 seconds if we each take two at a time. It’s
not so easy carrying a baby who hardly holds her head up with a two-year-old (that’s my task —
Eli has the heavier boys.) at two or three in the morning.

So here I am. Going to sleep with the baby carrier attached to my body. So I don’t waste time
and can get my baby in fast and then grab my two-year-old and hold them both safely while I
carefully and quickly go down the stairs outside hoping that my husband is managing with the
other two. We will only go down if the rockets are really headed for Shaalavim. (We have apps
on our phone that tell us and the sirens are supposed to be even louder than we hear already for
surrounding yishuvim.)

But I have to be ready. I feel kind of safe and fine, more bothered by the challenge of working
from home with school closures, but the anxiety and fear are there. I just keep asking myself how
humanity is in this place. How human beings resort to this. Intelligent, emotional, beautiful
people created by G-d. Why am I sleeping dressed in a baby carrier in the middle of the night
because terrorists are launching rockets to kill people? Why, G-d, I really just wonder, why?

(For all the friends and family worrying about us: please try not to. The Iron Dome is incredible.
Modern technology is incredible. It’s just, for the first time in these past few days, when I
resorted to sleeping with a baby carrier strapped to me, something snapped and I needed to
WRITE. SOMETHING. So there it is, and here I am. The Baby Bjorn isn’t the most ergonomic
of my three carriers, but it’s the fastest to buckle. Chuckle chuckle... )