THERE ARE NO STRANGERS IN ISRAEL – BUT ONE BIG FAMILY

Observations and insights from an encounter with ‘strangers’ coming together in Jerusalem on behalf of the hostages.

By Galya Tregenza  Hall

You never really know who you are talking to or who you are walking past when you go about your life here in Israel.

I was reminded of this recently when I attended a night of communal singing in Jerusalem that was organized by Jon Polin and his wife Rachel Goldberg, the parents of American-Israeli hostage, Hersh. Hersh was kidnapped on that dreaded day of October 7 last year whilst he was at the Nova music festival. Hundreds and hundreds of people gathered to sing together, pray together, cry together and hope together….for the return of Hersh, and all the other hostages still being held captive so brutally in Gaza.

It was a poignant evening and I feel privileged to have been a part of it. There was something so beautiful about strangers joining together and raising their voices in unison and hope, despite the intense sadness and desperation that seemed to define every face I looked into. The beauty and strength of the Israeli people permeated the atmosphere that night. In actual fact it was not a gathering of strangers but a gathering of one big family who came together in the most moving manner. We all knew why we were there; we all understood the almost intrinsic need in each of us to be together and ‘do something’ …  of course, we also understood that our singing would not bring Hersh home but then again, who knows? Psalm 133 tells us that:

“How good and pleasant it is
    when God’s people live together in unity!

It is like precious oil poured on the head,
    running down on the beard,
running down on Aaron’s beard,
    down on the collar of his robe.
It is as if the dew of Hermon
    were falling on Mount Zion.
For there the Lord bestows his blessing,
    even life forevermore”.

I experienced complete unity that night with everyone around me. Perhaps God will bestow His blessing and grant life forevermore to the hostages. This remains my prayer.

Whilst at the gathering I got chatting to a man who was there with his two sons. It turned out that they were very close family friends of Hersh’s family and that Hersh was like a big brother to his two teenage boys who stood by looking quite overwhelmed, dressed in t-shirts donning his face alongside the words:

‘BRING HERSH HOME’

I swallowed deeply and listened as their father recounted stories to me of different ways Hersh had impacted his son’s lives and how much they miss him, how much they grieve and how desperate they and his family feel. I stumbled over my words trying to find the right thing to say but all I could come up with was, “I’m so sorry”.

Moments later a friend came up to me and told me she wanted to introduce me to someone, a lady that had been standing with us chatting to some other people. Turns out this lady is an Iranian Christian who was jailed in Iran and sentenced to death, before being miraculously released and able to now live in safety in America. She is committed to developing relationships between the Iranian and Israeli people and speaking up boldly on behalf of the Jewish people. I couldn’t believe my ears as she shared some of her story. I was deeply humbled to meet her and could not stop the tears as I watched her go up to Hersh’s father and tell him who she was and what had happened to her. She assured him that miracles do happen, that she was living proof and that he must not lose hope and not stop believing for a miracle for his son.

As the evening came to an end I was preparing to leave when I noticed an elderly lady walking past me. She had a look in her eyes and face that I can only describe as excruciating pain. Tears were falling down her cheeks. I could not let her pass by. I approached her and opened my arms. She accepted and I embraced her. We did not speak. She collapsed in my arms and buried her head into my shoulder, weeping and weeping. I just held her. We did not need to talk. We were united in a way that did not require words. Perhaps this is what the Psalmist was talking about.  After some time, she composed herself and looked up at me. She whispered the words “thank you” and continued on her way. I do not know who she was. Maybe she has a relative held hostage, maybe she has a grandchild fighting in Gaza, maybe she lost a loved one on October 7, or maybe she is simply a human being who has been deeply wounded by displays of such inhumanity.

Through my work with Christian Friends of Israel, I am constantly meeting people who, since October 7, are traumatized and suffering for many different reasons, but what I experienced at the night of communal singing reminded me that every person we come into contact with has a story and deserves empathy. Whether it’s the man driving the bus or the lady on the till in the supermarket…. Whether it’s the shopkeeper or the young girl making our coffee … You never really know who you are talking to or who you are walking past when you go about your life here in Israel.

Let’s all treat each other with an extra dose of love and gentleness and let’s all choose to offer kindness and words of peace to people we come into contact with. We should not underestimate the power of these characteristics.  With the war continuing in Gaza, tensions steadily increasing in the north, our hostages still in captivity and a regional war with Iran and her proxies looming, I hope we can all do our best to live as the Psalmist described because round about now, we could all sure do with a blessing from Above.

About the writer:

Galya Tregenza  Hall is Director of Media and Public Relations, Christian Friends of Israel.

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