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A Letter From Israel
Stories of Families Helped by Adopt-A-Family
Reflection on Visits With Survivors of Terror
by Rabbi Herman Blumberg, Rabbi Emeritus, and members of the Israel Action Committee, written from Israel on March 15
We knew the numbers of killed and wounded. We knew their names. We knew
details of the bombing…where, when, how. But until we met the
victims themselves and the families or the loved ones of those now
gone, we could not begin to comprehend the devastation acts of terror
produce.
You have to meet three year old Shira, blinded in one eye, awaiting yet
another reconstruction surgery. You have to see the shards of shrapnel
still imbedded in her cheeks and forehead.
You have to meet Vadim who dreamed of becoming an engineer. Now his
horizon is lowered to whether he will ever walk without pain or whether
his impotence resulting from genital injuries can be miraculously
reversed.
You have to meet Carmit who in one instant lost her husband, her
eighteen year old daughter and her 20 year old son. All she has left is
a video which good friends brought to her house of mourning.
You have to sit next to Foran, a 38 year old mother of four - a mother
so traumatized by a bus bombing over two years ago that she still
cannot lift her head to make eye contact, speaks only in a whisper
while twisting her hands one into the other. She cannot leave the house
alone nor take care of her toddler child. You have to hear her
husband’s anguish as he fights a losing battle to be his
wife’s caretaker, father and mother to four, and bread winner.
You have to meet Alex, once a budding Martial Arts competitor who has
gone through 14 intestinal surgeries, suffers respiratory problems and
is in constant pain from shrapnel resting near his spinal column. His
despairing father took his own life, leaving an immigrant mother to
care for him and to advocate on his behalf with the national health
system.
You have to meet Idan whose burn-scarred body requires multiple surgeries and endless therapy.
You have to meet the young women, self-isolated in embarrassment of
their scars, the families without support systems, suffering from
severe economic hardship because of diminished capacity to work. You
have to hear the fear of getting on a bus, lest it happen again. You
have to sense the profound depression and anxiety – it’s
called Post Traumatic Stress Disorder -- which spreads from victims to
other family members.
For ten days we served as the eyes of every member of Shir Tikva, as
your eyes and ears, learning about Nefga-ey Terror, Victims of Terror.
Through us they thanked you again and again for every measure of help:
medication, hearing aids, counseling, special chairs, and medical
attention not available from the government. Our friends were
grateful for driving lessons, for supplements to diminished income, for
every measure of support.
In every encounter people told us that our gestures from afar buoyed
their spirits. Often these people feel forgotten as their peers and
friends move on with their lives, leaving the victims isolated and
alone. Shir Tikva’s contact and attention brings light and smiles
to profoundly sad lives.
Our best success story is Anna Ibragmov, one of the first of our
adoptees. When the first visitors from our congregation visited Anna
over two years ago she was a frightened, broken woman who
wouldn’t emerge from her room. She was grateful for our modest
financial aid, for clothing and gifts for her children and for our
friendship. By the third visit she refused aid, telling us to share
with someone in greater need than her. On this visit she was smiling,
happy, talking of her plans to become a social worker in order to help
others! She told us that if she hadn’t endured this
horrific act, she would never have known how wonderful people could be.
I know of no other congregation in the United States that is helping so
many families with such generosity. We can and should bow our heads in
humble thanksgiving for the privilege which is ours.
We returned from Israel with a resolve to continue our efforts,
distributing resources through our dedicated and effective
“connectors.” We return with resolve to raise more funds to
continue the work. God-willing their will be the cessation of violence
in Israel. But thousands of our brothers and sisters will not be at
peace until their wounds of body and spirit are healed. We will not
forget them or abandon them.
At best the mood in Israel is “cautiously optimistic.”
Perhaps “resolute” is a better word, reflecting the will to
transcend the uncertainty, to continue to live as Jews in a Jewish
State, no matter what! One small visual memory says it all:
Outside a disco (the Dolphinarium) on the beach in Tel Aviv where
scores were killed or maimed, we found a simple sign staked into the
ground. It reads: “Lo nafsik lirkod”. We shall not stop
dancing.” These three words reflect the resilience and
determination of Israelis to continue in life, overcoming the tragedy
of these past four years.
And these words point to our task as concerned American Jews, as the
people of Shir Tikva: We cannot dance for our Israeli friends; but
through our concern and our material help we can help to make the music
to which they will dance through the
years.
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