The structure with the colorful mural is a type of bomb shelter scattered along the roads of communities in proximity to Gaza. They are made for times when our neighbors decide to begin bombing us, to give people outside, on the roads, a small chance of reaching shelter before the missiles hit.
Here the warning time is 15 seconds.
The necessity of this is obscene. Who allows their neighbors to behave like that?
Looking at the mural itself adds extra layers of meaning, hope, horror and the miraculous ability to retain hope in the face of the unspeakable.
This is the junction at the entrance of Shuva, a moshav established in 1950 by Jews who made Aliyah, returned to our ancestral homeland, from Tripoli, Libya. Shuva means return and comes from a verse in the Book of Psalms: “Restore (give back/return) that which was taken from us, Lord, like streams in the Negev.” The people who founded this community came back to the land from which we were all taken, a rare miracle, like the streams of the Negev – streams that don’t exist most of the year and then, with the rains, suddenly come back in full force.
The mural on the bomb shelter depicts a Jewish man praying, invoking a different phrase from the bible, a prophecy of hope: “and your children will return to their own land.”
Shuva, like the other communities near Gaza, suffered from the Gazan invaders. Here too Jews fought for their lives and have to live with the trauma of the horrors they saw. The people of Shuva, like all the people of Israel weep for the Children of Israel, ripped from us and taken to the enemy land. That is why those who drew the mural added the reminder from the ancient prophecy (Jeremiah 31:16):
This is what the LORD says: “A voice is heard in Ramah, mourning and great weeping, Rachel weeping for her children, and refusing to be comforted, because they are no more.” This is what the LORD says: “Stay your voice from weeping and dry your eyes from tears, for the reward for your work will come, declares the LORD. Then your children will return from the land of the enemy. So there is hope for your future, declares the LORD, “and your children will return to their own land…”
May that day come soon.
We came to Shuva to help Yaakov Hassan harvest his grapes in Moshav Shuva. He grows a variety of types but asked us to pick the white muscat.
His vineyard is now named: “The Vineyard of Life” because that is the Jewish response to horror and death.
On the morning of October 7th, Yaakov thought he was going to pray in the synagogue and celebrate the holiday of Simchat Torah. Instead, he found himself battling Gazan invaders in his fields.
Yaakov told us of seven invaders who came to slaughter. He said: “I won’t tell you the details. I am here and they are not. October 7 changed me. They came with a hate so enormous that they wanted to crush anything Jewish. To rip us from this land. They even slaughtered a Muslim woman who worked with my father. She was religious and wore a hijab so there was no mistaking her identity. They hated her because she helped Jews rooting themselves in our ancestral homeland. They hated her because of their hate for us. Seeing their desire to stamp out anything Jewish made me decide that the best thing I could do is to focus on Jewish hands working Jewish land.”
A distant look in his eyes, he added: “They taught me to never, ever give up. No matter how hopeless. We can never give up.” Then he laughed and showed us how delicious his beautiful grapes were.
Yaakov told us he used his truck to help collect the bodies of the murdered. He was surrounded by death for days. That’s why he decided to plant a new vineyard in honor of the dead, a tree for every individual murdered on October 7th, and everyone killed in the subsequent war. From death, he chose to grow new life, vines that will bear fruit from which wine will be made.
In Jewish tradition, we drink wine and say “LeChaim, to life!” recognizing that between death and life, we are the People who choose life.
Fiddler on the Roof sings: “It takes a wedding to make us say, let’s live another day, drink le’chaim, to life!” When I first saw the movie, I thought the songs were frivolous, full of nice rhymes. Seeing Yaakov and the decision he made highlights how deep and profound our traditions are. Other nations drink and say “Salute!” or “Cheers!” Before the kiddush (when Jews drink wine as part of the religious ceremony) we ask the attendees a question: “What say you?” and they respond “Lechaim, to life!”
Because it’s a choice.
There are those who choose death and destruction, gleefully causing pain and anguish as the invaders did that day. As the Nazis did in the death camps.
Jews, throughout time, have been brutalized and traumatized. It would be easy to sink into the abyss of hate, destruction, and hopelessness. There certainly is reason enough to do so. Yaakov’s choice is that of the Jewish people. In response to evil, we deliberately choose light. We honor our dead through the creation of new life. Deliberately. Often, in anguish.
When living, immersed in tragedy, grief, and unspeakable horror, choosing life is more than a matter of having hope. It takes extreme courage to be willing to face the day and invest time and care in building the future.
In the land where the ancient meets the future and words of the prophecies read like explanations of current affairs, it is worth paying attention to the message in the biblical promise: If we choose wisely and do our work, then our children will come back from the land of the enemy. Not by surrender. By doing the necessary work, they will come back in triumph, and we will have hope for the future.
Like Yaakov says, we can never ever give up. We have a lot of work to do. It is up to us to prove that we meant it when we said NEVER AGAIN.
{Reposted from the author’s blog}
