Rabbis Bringing Food to Gaza: A Personal Witness
These snatches of Prophetic Vision sometimes agree and sometimes disagree with each other, sometimes agree and sometimes disagree with The Shalom Center. For not even prophetic vision can adequately express the Infinite ways to seek deep healing and justice inherent in the Breath of life.
Rabbi Toba Spitzer is the spiritual leader of a synagogue in Massachusetts. She is a former president of the Reconstructionist Rabbinical Asssociation. I have known and admired her since she was about ten years old in the 1970s. She was a student and I a parent/ teacher in the parents-co-op Sunday-morning- and-Wednesday-afternoon Fabrangen Cheder. That was and is a creative Jewish school where the parents were and still are the teachers, modeling adult commitment to Judaism by their presence.
— AW, ed.
Rabbis Bringing Food to Gaza: A Personal Witness
By Rabbi Toba Spitzer – May 1, 2024
This past Friday, April 26, I was honored to join both American rabbinic colleagues involved with Rabbis for Ceasefire and Rabbis for Human Rights (RHR) in Israel, in an action near the Gaza border. After numerous changes of plan due to extenuating circumstances in the region, our American group ended up being nine American rabbis and the Israeli-American writer Ayelet Waldman, joined by four of our colleagues from RHR and an additional fifteen or 20 Israeli peace activists, including the Israeli comedian, Noam Shuster-Eliassi.
One of the reasons I felt moved to go was to be in solidarity with these brave Israelis who suffered the traumas of October 7 but have refused to be pitted against the Palestinian people in the aftermath of those horrors.
The action was planned to coincide with Passover, to lift up the theme of “let all who are hungry come and eat” and raise awareness about the impending famine in Gaza, especially in the north, where entry of aid convoys has been blocked by the Israeli government. The goal was also to emphasize the call for a comprehensive cease-fire, in the hopes of the safe return of the remaining hostages, a halt to the Israeli bombardments of Gaza, and the re-establishment of functioning food distribution and medical support for the Palestinian population.
Like many of you, I have been feeling helpless, witnessing the carnage in Gaza and the ongoing agony of the families of the hostages. I felt from the moment that rockets began falling on Gaza in October that there would be no winners in this war. I know that there are those on both sides of this conflict who feel that the violence visited upon the other can be minimized, rationalized, or even justified. I steadfastly disagree. There can be no rationalization for the atrocities inflicted by Hamas upon Israeli communities on October 7, and equally no rationalization for the unprecedented devastation of the Israeli government's war on the people of Gaza. Participating in this action felt like one small way to lift up a Jewish voice for a different way forward.
The action itself was quite simple. We drove to a point about a kilometer from one of the closed northern crossings into Gaza, not far from the Israeli town of Sderot. The Israeli activists had brought a pick-up truck filled with a half-ton of sacks of flour and bags of rice. We set off on foot, all of the rabbis wearing white, carrying white flags and a bag of rice, flanking the pick-up truck. We were met by a few policemen, and kept on walking, singing songs of peace and prayers in Hebrew. When we reached an intersection about half a kilometer from the Gaza border, we were stopped by a larger group of police, and decided to not go any further. At that point, members of the group were invited to speak.
All of the words spoken were powerful, but I was most moved by those from Avi Dabush, the CEO of Rabbis for Human Rights, who is currently studying to be a rabbi in Israel. Avi is from one of the kibbutzim that was attacked on October 7; members of the kibbutz were killed that day, and five members are still being held hostage. Avi spoke of the importance of not hiding from the realities of what happened that day, and also not obscuring the reality of what has been going on in Gaza. He is not the only Israeli directly affected by October 7 who is willing to call for a ceasefire. These voices are in the minority in Israel, but it is important that we in America know that they exist. All of the activists we met are quite incredible people, and our presence there gave them a bit of chizuk, strength, in their quest for a cessation of violence.
After about an hour, the decision was made to try to get some of our group arrested by the police (we knew that this was the only way to get into the news). A group sat down in the road and refused to move. I was not in the group; I stayed on the side and kept the singing going, to keep up the spirits of those facing arrest. The police were very reluctant to arrest any American rabbis, but ultimately they did arrest a group of seven — three of the Israelis, and another four Americans.
I then spent the rest of the day with the remainder of our group and the Israeli activists who stayed on to support us, waiting for 7 hours in the parking lot of the Sderot police station for news of those being held, speaking to the media, and calling on the U.S. embassy to help get folks released. By Friday evening, everyone was out. A small group of us started Kabbalat Shabbat prayers in the parking lot, and just as we were singing the end of Lecha Dodi, greeting the Shabbat bride — “Bo’i kallah, bo’l kallah!” — the last of our group came out of the police station. A moving end to a long day.
In addition to the action itself, a few things from that day will stay with me. Two of the Israeli activists, young women who are seasoned in getting arrested after many demonstrations, commented how the police at the Sderot station were unusually kind and gentle (in contrast to how the Jerusalem police handle protesters). This particular station had been attacked on October 7, and a number of the officers there killed. If anyone might have had reason to be harsh with protesters bringing symbolic aid to Gaza, you would think it would be these officers, but that wasn’t the case. (The folks being held at a different station in Ashkelon had quite a different experience).
I also had the opportunity to spend a bit of time with Gadi, an Israeli activist around my age who served in Lebanon during the 1982 war. He is broken-hearted about what is happening in Gaza, and forces himself every day to read and watch the news from there. I said to him that he needs to take care of himself, and be careful how much terrible news he takes in. He told me that he can’t, that he has an obligation to witness this suffering. His humanity and his pain were both overwhelming and moving.
I have been heartened to hear that my participation in this action was meaningful to many members of our congregation as well others. I also know that not everyone in our community might agree with the stance taken by those of us who participated. What is most important in this moment — as our campuses are roiled by the conflict, as antisemitism is on the rise, as Jewish pain and fear is manipulated by others for ends having nothing to do with Jewish safety, as so many feel heartbreak at the pain of both Israelis and Palestinians and feel helpless to do anything — is that we can keep our hearts open to all those in the region who are suffering, as well as keeping our hearts open to one another.
As I mentioned in the NY Times article about the action, I believe with all my heart that Israeli and Palestinian liberation, safety and wellbeing are completely bound up together. May we resist all the forces trying to separate us from one another, and from the people on the ground who need our love and our support. As the incredible Jewish Israeli peace activist Vivian Silver, murdered on October 7, used to say: “There is no path to peace; peace is the path.” This is the path I was trying to walk this past week; may it be a path that we can learn to walk together.
Photo: @tobaspitzer on Instagram