Finding Inspiration Amid the Devastation at Nova

Recently I visited southern Israel with an RCA mission. Amid visits to sites of unimaginable tragedy, I encountered one of the most inspiring stories of moral courage I have ever heard.

We visited R. Doron Perez at his home, as he told over his experiences relating to the killing and holding of the body of his son Daniel at the hands of Hamas, and the messages of hope and resilience he sees going forward. We visited the town of Netiv Ha-Asarah, hearing from a resident survivor about her experience and the community’s loss of twenty of its citizens, honored in a poignant memorial park.

These meetings led up to our visit to the Nova memorial, built on the site of the Nova music festival in which nearly 400 people attending a rave were killed by Hamas terrorists. It was my first time at the site, and it was both moving and horrifying to encounter the stories of that dark day, to see the life story of the hundreds who perished, and to see the many ways in which Israel is mourning them and perpetuating their memory.

The highlight of the visit to the Nova site was hearing the story of Atir, who told us (in fluent English) how he and several friends escaped the Nova festival and fled the terrorists, first by car, and then on foot, running 8 kilometers to an agricultural site. They were taken in by an Israeli Muslim Bedouin named Yunes who managed the farm and oversaw its 24 Thai workers. He provided them with water, food, shelter, and a place to rest, relief from the terrorists hunting down everyone in the field.

And then the terrorists came to the farm. Yunes, speaking in Arabic to the terrorists, said he did not have the keys to let them in to the farm (the keys were in his pocket). When they demanded that he hand over the Yahud (Jews) who were with him, he pretended he knew nothing about any Jews. Meanwhile, after being alerted by Yunes, Atir and his friends had hidden in the crawl space under the building. They all managed to survive that day, making it until rescue groups arrived later.

Atir described Yunes as a Righteous Among the Nations, a modern-day Oskar Schindler who managed to save eight Jewish lives at great risk to his own. To our great surprise, Yunes then emerged from the trees and proceeded to tell us (in Hebrew) his side of the story. With humility but determination, he said that he was scared for his life but did what he must in order to save these innocent Jews’ lives. (I later had a chance to watch a TV news story of this gripping episode.)

I was incredibly moved by this story, and I was inspired to share the following thought with the group, and especially with Atir and Yunus. I offered the thoughts in Hebrew, so that Yunus could understand, and here is an English reconstruction of what I shared:

“Yunes is Arabic for the name Yonah, the prophet Jonah. Yonah was given a mission – to go to a non-Jewish nation and save their lives. But Yonah was afraid and ran away instead of fulfilling his mission. (In the end, after divine “encouragement,” he did partially accomplish his mission.) Yunes, you were given a mission, to save eight Jewish lives. And, despite the great danger and fear, you did not run away. You stood your ground and saved them. In a sense, your actions qualify as a tikkun, a rectification of what Yonah failed to do. And I wanted to thank you, on behalf of the rabbis here and on behalf of the entire Jewish people, for your heroic actions.”

A fellow rabbi on the mission remarked to me that Yunes was visibly moved; I know I was. Stories like that of Yunes remind us that even amid unimaginable evil, even within the story of a murderous rampage, extraordinary goodness still exists.