October 7 Made Me Return to Judaism and Israel
by Jackie Stewart
Just three months after October 7th, my daughter Alex and I joined Bet Shalom. We wanted a deeper connection with our Jewish community — especially at that moment.
I was raised in a very secular home in Minnetonka. My earliest memory of being Jewish was hearing my parents talk about the Holocaust, quite extensively, and I vividly remember the book Treblinka on my mother’s bedside table. Discussions about the Holocaust, coupled with the daily barrage of verbal and sometimes physical abuse in elementary school where I was the only Jewish student, were my introduction to being Jewish. I was taunted with names like Christ-killer and kike. Some kids would ask to see my horns, I was spat upon, and I even remember watching my 5th-grade teacher struggle to rearrange the seating chart because some of my classmates refused to sit next to “the dirty Jew.”
Even though my parents told me often that being Jewish made me special, I had a hard time seeing the upside. I did not have a bat mitzvah, I don't know any Hebrew, and I haven't been to services or worn my Jewish star in over 25 years. But on October 7, everything changed. And my childhood experience with anti-semitism was one of the many factors that inspired me to take the life-changing trip to Israel on the Federation Solidarity Mission in February.
It’s been six months and I still cannot wrap my head around what happened. What is so heartbreaking is not just the rise in blatant antisemitism, but the deafening silence of my non-Jewish friends, Hollywood, and womens’ organizations, all of whom continue to stand up for other marginalized groups but are now selectively mute when it comes to the worst massacre of Jews since the Holocaust.
After many weeks of crying, yelling at TV pundits and waking every morning to my first thoughts, not of my daughter, but of the hostages and victims of this barbaric attack, I knew that for me, liking and reposting clips on social media and tantruming around my kitchen were just not going to cut it. I knew that the only way I could begin to heal my soul was to go back to Israel for the first time in over 35 years.
I cannot tell you the number of times I went to the Minneapolis Jewish Federation’s website, filled out all of the forms to join the Mission/Solidarity trip, but just could not bring myself to click “submit.” Logically, I thought, there is far too much risk in going to Israel right now - in the middle of a war. I will wait until things settle down. But my heart and soul could not rest. Each time I shut down the computer I felt incomplete and uneasy. The only way I could find peace was to put aside my fears, pack my bags and show my support in any way that I could. I had an obligation to bear witness and I had to show my daughter the importance of standing up for what I know to be right.
As soon as we arrived in Tel Aviv my fears were put to rest, and I knew that I had made the right choice. We were there to show our support, and we did so by spending time with IDF soldiers and working in a massive laundry facility sorting uniforms; as well as picking oranges and awkwardly pruning tomato plants in the field. Others in our group worked with displaced children who are currently living in hotels. Seeing how appreciative the Israelis were that we were there to help made me feel whole and gave me purpose.
One of the most powerful parts of the trip was visiting Re’im, near the Nova music festival. There, we stood inside the bomb shelter where Hersh Goldberg-Polin, one of the kidnap victims, had his lower arm blown off by the terrorists. We learned how Aner Shapira, Hersh's best friend, heroically caught and threw back 7 of the grenades launched at them before the 8th grenade exploded in his hand, killing him and most of the other young adults hiding from Hamas. As we walked out of this death box, we could feel the ground beneath our feet begin to shake, and we heard loud booms that turned out to be artillery shells being fired into Gaza by the IDF. To this day it is nearly impossible to describe what it felt like to bear witness to this massacre of these precious, innocent lives.
Overall the trip was an emotional rollercoaster. Of course there was an abundant amount of sadness that can be seen and felt everywhere, starting at the airport that is lined with photographs of the remaining 134 hostages. At the same time, some of that was tempered by the gratitude and appreciation expressed by Israelis just because we showed up. We were there for all of them.
Physically I am home, but my heart, my soul and mind are in Israel. I cried for days before the trip, purely out of fear, and then cried again when we returned home. It was so difficult to leave; I felt as though we were abandoning them. There is so much work to be done, so much love and support that still needs to be provided. Seeing the Israelis’ incredible strength, resilience and unity gave me hope that even though there is a long road ahead, Israel absolutely will prevail.
It is hard for me to articulate how I felt on the morning of October 7, but I know that all of you understand. It’s one of the many reasons that I joined Bet Shalom; why I will proudly and forever wear my Jewish star, and why I decided to embark on such an important trip with an incredible group of people.
I am incredibly grateful that I was able to be part of this trip and I cannot wait to return. If you’re thinking about going to Israel and you're on the fence, my advice is, just go!
BRING THEM ALL HOME NOW!
Am yisrael chai!