Ra’anana, Israel, Oct. 8, 2023 — Former Denverites Ariella and Rabbi Michael Sunshine are racing out their door to find badly needed supplies for young chayalim (soldiers) heading for war when the phone rings.
Israeli soldiers remove bodies of Israeli civilians at Kibbutz Kfar Aza, near the Israeli-Gaza border, in southern Israel, Oct. 10, 2023. (Chaim Goldberg/Flash90)
Despite the time crunch Ariella picks up after two rings. “Hello? Andrea? Yes, I remember you.” I’m glad, since we’ve never met and spoke only once before.
It was May 13, 2021, as Gaza exploded rockets near Ra’anana. Chaos struck while Michael was hiking with his high school students, leaving Ariella alone to protect their children. I admired her candor and strength, both under existential fire.
At 6:30 a.m. Saturday, Oct. 7, 2023, Hamas invaded Israel.
Now I breathe fear in Ariella’s breathlessness; borrow her faith to find a moment’s peace.
She explains that the group of boys requesting batteries, flashlights and other basics “are not prepared for war. They have nothing.” Kids are literally disappearing. “We have a boy, a member of an elite army unit, who spends every Shabbat with us.
“He must have been called up at the last minute. He was at our house Friday evening and gone by Saturday. We have no idea where he is.”
One of the Sunshines’ sons, a soldier in the army, is temporarily based at Eilat. “He texts me, says that everything’s fine. He’s still there, at least as far I know.”
The unknowable reigns supreme in the bitter new landscape carved by Hamas’ devastating attack.
“To say there are no words to describe our world is beyond understatement,” she says, unseen eyes widening in her voice. “How is this humanly possible, turning a day so holy into a day of such horror? You can’t really believe it’s real, until you realize it is.”
Ariella, a compassionate woman always volunteering to help people and projects, resolutely condemns Hamas. “You’re dealing with a people who are not like us,” she says.
“I heard someone mention the rules of war. This is not them. They have no rules. You see endless photos of the hostages, like a girl being grabbed at the music festival. Another video I just saw was so horrific that I wanted to vomit.
“It’s impossible to imagine the inhumanity of these people. They are not even human.”
Ariella’s detailed recollection of an ordinary situation reshaped by dire circumstances conveys the entire picture.
“Michael and I were on our way to a food packing event when we received a message that a wedding had been moved up to today. I think the chatan (groom) was called up. We went in our jeans. No male over the age of 17 was there. They had all been called up to fight. Only men 45 and older attended.
“Tears were just streaming as people sang Am Yisrael Chai. We were all feeling completely hopeless until we sang.”
The road ahead for Israel is paved with obstacles. Ariella says the numbers of the dead and kidnapped will soar. “Maybe to 1,000.” Amid the unbearable, her pathway to hope is the same as it was in 2021.
“As a religious Jew, my only answer is turning to Hashem. He is the only one who can save us.”
I mention American Jews’ shock in the wake of Gaza’s assault, inflicted on Shabbat. I share our feelings of helplessness, support and our love.
“As the Jewish people, we are united,” she says.
Ariella suddenly apologizes.
“I really must run. They are waiting for us.”
Of course.
“May Hashem bless you,” she adds gently.
An unexpected lump lodges in my throat.
“And you, Ariella. And you.”
Copyright © 2023 by the Intermountain Jewish News
