Twenty-seven days ago, I thought I was going on a business trip to Europe, charting a course from Moldova to Ukraine, and then to Berlin and Paris. Until I just arrived home to Israel, I was one of 60,000 Israelis stranded overseas, awaiting my return in scenes best described as Israeli order through chaos, marked by a deep ancestral longing for home.
I was in Paris when the new phase of the war started on June 13. I just finished a fact-finding trip exploring new Jewish vulnerabilities arising from increased antisemitism and violent anti-Israel activity when I became one of the statistics of Jewish need that have emerged since the Hamas-led terrorist attacks in Israel on Oct. 7, 2023.
More personally, I was a husband and father far from home when Israel’s long presumed attack on Iran’s nuclear capabilities came to fruition. My wife and sons began their almost daily race to our shelter to take cover from Iranian rockets devastating central Israel. I sat in a hotel room incapable of helping them, praying for their safety with each salvo, constantly monitoring the news and my Home Front Command app to see where the rockets had fallen.
I was not alone in this feeling. Among the Israelis I got to know waiting on airline information lines and in Jewish community centers where many Israelis gathered for support during this latest phase of the war, there was a constant, aching concern for loved ones. In yet another ironic twist of Jewish fate, we may have been the only people on earth who clamored to return to a war zone, eager to be ensconced in danger, if it only we meant we could embrace those we left behind.
There is also the reality we face overseas, especially in Europe, which is alarming at best. I knew that antisemitism was alive and well, and had only spiked since the Hamas attack on Israel almost two years ago. I knew from my own interactions with Jewish communities in Europe that it was a top concern, emphasized further in the survey of European Jewish leaders that my organization, the American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee (JDC), issued last year.
What I had not experienced was the particularly aggressive anti-Israel sentiment that such hate has fomented. There were wild protests in the streets against Israeli actions in Gaza and our defensive measures against Iran. In Berlin, I saw screaming crowds calling for the end of Israel. In Athens, an Israeli was attacked just for speaking Hebrew. As a stranded Israeli colleague of mine was exiting a taxi in Berlin, she got the finger from a driver who deduced her origins.
Added to all of this was a constant concern about terror attacks on Israeli or Jewish community sites. We responded in kind—when I was in a public space and on the phone with my wife and kids, I spoke in English, which I never do. I was more attentive to my surroundings when I scrolled Israeli websites on my phone in public spaces. I never told waiters or cashiers where I was from. Many Israelis were similarly concerned, advising each other which areas of various cities to avoid and sometimes placing their Jewish stars, amulets with Hebrew writing or hostage dog tags under their shirts.
To be clear: We were not hiding, but exercising the wise caution our government and local Jewish community security groups advised us to take at times of heightened tensions. We were also doing something else very typical of our people during times of acute crisis—we were taking care of each other when we need it most.
One of the underreported stories of this war was how hardy Israelis in Europe and tough, thriving European Jewish communities banded together to aid the most vulnerable Israelis waiting to return home. I am proud to have been part of these efforts, knowing that while I could not do much for my family in Israel, I could help my extended family and ensure their needs—from medical care to mental-health support, from accommodation to safe spaces to gather—were met.
My organization swung into action immediately, building off post-Oct. 7 efforts to support Israelis living overseas. What was clear from our initial assessment was that many stranded Israelis could navigate the situation on their own, with the support of family, friends and their own resourcefulness and initiative. Indeed, there are many stories about their bold efforts to return to Israel on boats via the Mediterranean and over land crossings through Egypt and Jordan.
However, it was also clear that there were Israelis who would need assistance, among them the elderly and people with disabilities, families with young children, people with urgent medical issues, people suffering trauma and those in extreme need of social support like food and housing. So we deployed a three-pronged effort, in partnership with local Jewish communities, and in special efforts by Israeli-led groups, to meet the moment.
First, we started to support a situation room for stranded Israelis run by the Israeli Communities of Europe, a Berlin-based organization focused on the needs of Israelis in Europe. Many Israelis do not speak local languages or have connections in the cities they are currently residing. The situation room became a source of information and coordination to address many of their needs.
I transferred to Berlin to assist with these efforts given my experience as part of JDC’s emergency response team for the crisis in Ukraine. Together with two other JDC colleagues who also have relevant experience, we arrived in Berlin and started to work with the Israeli Communities of Europe’s team. We met a group of dedicated and committed individuals who already reached scores of Israelis, mainly through WhatsApp groups.
Drawing from our ongoing experience deploying responses to the war in Israel and conflict in Ukraine, which have been generously supported by the Jewish Federations, we focused on strengthening these efforts to expand the reach, effectiveness and impact of the situation room. It currently reaches thousands of people in 13 countries. Among the people we have assisted were a cancer patient seeking expedited return to Israel; a pregnant woman looking for a reliable, Hebrew-speaking doctor; and a group of young families desperate to find a place for a play dates (and to give parents a much-deserved break from their waiting game).
Second, we are providing program guidance and funding for local Jewish communities aiding Israelis waiting to return to Israel. We are currently working with communities in France, Italy, Netherlands, Romania, Serbia and Bulgaria. In Amsterdam, we are supporting a central helpdesk to manage requests for food, accommodation, medical care and emotional support together with Maccabi NL, the Israeli Embassy, the Chabad-Lubavitch movement and the local Jewish social-service provider. Together with the Jewish community in Sofia, we are supporting a group of deaf Israelis, stranded after a conference, requiring food and housing.
Lastly, we are supporting Israeli-led services and programs: in partnership with the Israeli Communities of Europe, we are supporting children’s and family activities, workspaces for those who are working remotely, and Shabbat dinners, which have become a major gathering point for Israelis wanting to partake in a tradition from home, whether they are secular or observant.
At one of these dinners in Berlin, I met a middle-aged Israeli woman named Talia who was on a roots trip in Germany with her 80-plus year-old mother, Esther, and her daughter when their return flight was canceled. Esther is too frail to be dragged around Europe to find a city with direct flights back to Israel. So they are patiently waiting it out until the best option becomes available, turning to their fellow Israelis and the local Jewish community for comfort and care.
In spending time with this resilient trio, who laughed together and hugged each other, and even offered words of support to strangers between the blessings and heaps of humus, rice and roasted chicken, I knew we should remain hopeful despite many challenges.
Born in Germany, Esther reminded me that we have survived so much as a people because we always turn to each other for mutual care and come out stronger on the other side. Waiting our turn in line to get home—not a strong suit for Israelis—would be the least painful of all.
Now that I am home and have celebrated my first Shabbat this weekend with my family in almost a month, I hold Esther’s strength and resolve close to me. Her spirit—and the spirit of all those who helped others in need over these last few weeks—is what will help the Jewish world and Israel face whatever comes next.