Republic of Tel Aviv

Israel travel diary - day 3

We’re still alive

Today’s theme is brought to you by a fat man on the beach wearing nothing but a speedo, a sparkly hat, and a grin. And no, it’s not me.

Blaring from the speaker on his bicycle on Gordon Beach was Ofra Haza’s song Chai, performed at the 1983 Eurovision contest (she came in 2nd). The chorus of the song goes like this:

I ask and I pray
It is good that hope is not yet lost.

Alive, alive, alive
Yes, I’m still alive
This is the song that grandpa sang yesterday to dad
And today it’s me

I’m still alive, alive, alive
Am Yisrael Chai
This is the song that grandpa sang yesterday to dad
And today it’s me

Don’t believe me? Watch this:

See?

Yesterday was a tough day in the Gaza Envelope. I saw things that Jews should never witness in Israel. Modern Zionism was formulated - and in fact the State of Israel was established - to prevent pogroms from ever happening again. But yesterday, I saw evidence of not just one pogrom, in Israel, but rather several pogroms that took place over an extended period, with many left dead, injured, forever scarred, in its wake.

So what comes after a day like that? A day in Tel Aviv. A day of life. Chai chai chai.

Run around

This morning I took the early train with my cousin Nitza from Sderot to Tel Aviv. We arrived early in the morning at the Tel Aviv HaShalom Station (at the Azrieli Towers), and were immediately greeted with Tel Aviv’s rush hour. The traffic zooming by on the Ayalon below us, and the rush of people making their way to work.

Like the rest of the country, there are signs of the hostages and the ongoing war everywhere. Every wall, tree, bench, building, is covered in signs calling to bring the hostages home. But in Tel Aviv, it feels like life very much goes on.

I had a list of things I wanted to see and do in Tel Aviv, and managed to accomplish them all with relative ease: hit up a few bookstores; check out the Trumpeldor Cemetary where Zionist heroes are buried, like Dizengoff, Max Nordau, and Ahad Haam; walk along the Tel Aviv beach; and have lunch at my favourite sandwich place ever: Suduch. I even got to dip my feet into the cold Mediterranean Sea. While there, I took the video above, but I also observed first hand the beating heart of the Republic of Tel Aviv, a state within a state, a unique city when, compared to Israel’s south, may as well be on the other side of the planet.

Tel Aviv Beach, March 12, 2025 (Photo: Adam Hummel)

Yes, there is the sadness that hangs above the country, but there is a spirit in Tel Aviv that is hard to dampen. Perhaps, like many of us, the residents of Tel Aviv wear their dog tags, yellow ribbons, and look at the hostage posters as they walk down the street all in an effort to be reminded of the unbearable situation in which we find ourselves, but they also live their lives. They have a city to run, and it has hard to keep Tel Aviv down. It lives.

Daniel Lifshitz

In the early afternoon, I met up with the group of Toronto-based educators, here with the UJA of Greater Toronto. I met them at the Hostage Forum building in Tel Aviv, and there we heard from Daniel Lifshitz. He is one of the grandchildren of Oded and Yocheved Lifshitz, both kidnapped brutally by Hamas terrorists on 10/7. They had devoted much of their life to coexistence with the Palestinians, taking Gazans to Israeli hospitals for medical treatment.

Yocheved was miraculously returned by Hamas several days after her kidnapping, where her 83 year old husband was held onto by Hamas until his body was released in late-February 2025, the same day as the Bibas family. It turned out that he had died in late-October 2023, shortly after he had been taken.

Daniel was a tremendous speaker. He related his 10/7 story, and told of what happened to his grandparents. He spoke about how brutally Yocheved was treated, how she was thrown onto a motorcycle and taken into Gaza, how she - an octogenarian - was beaten by Palestinian civilians upon arrival in Gaza, before they were pushed away by Hamas militants. How she was made to walk for four hours in a Hamas tunnel after arriving, and how, when they arrived at their destination in the tunnels, the place had been set up to essentially welcome in arriving hostages. The floor had been cleaned, water had been put out: Hamas planned to kidnap hostages, and had a place ready to accommodate them. It’s stunning.

He also related to us how his feisty grandmother met Yahya Sinwar, who came to speak with some of the hostages. He told us that she could not hold her tongue, and told him (Sinwar) that he should be ashamed of himself for kidnapping those Israelis who had been working so hard to facilitate a lasting peace between Israelis and Palestinians. Sinwar apparently did not respond to this eshet chayil (woman of valour), speaking up to his face, and simply turned and left.

Oded and Yocheved Lifshitz (photo: X)

Thankfully, Yocheved survived. She was released. She lives. Chai.

Hearing from a family member of a hostage was terribly moving. It became clear that he and other hostage families had learned to lean on each other, and that they have internalized each others’ struggles. They also continue to push for the release of each others’ family members, believing that no one is truly free until everyone is free. That is how his grandmother, Yocheved feels, that she remains a hostage until they are all freed. They have become each other’s families, and they have done what the Jewish world has always done best: create communities through which we can rely on each other. It there any other way to explain how we have survived for so many years?

Hostage Square

After meeting with Daniel, we stopped in Hostage Square. There, we saw the signs, the artwork, and I walked through the mock-Hamas-tunnel, which was terrifyingly effective in driving home the plight of the hostages. We made the donations, bought the t-shirts and ribbons, and told the people working at the merchandise table that we hoped to never see them again after today. We hoped their efforts would no longer be necessary, and that all the hostages would come home soon. In saying so, we all looked to the sky and shrugged, as if to say, who knows, but all we can do is hope and pray.

In fact today, for the first time since he was kidnapped, a sign of life was apparently given for hostage Avinatan Or. Avinatan was (is?) Noa Argamani’s boyfriend, who was filmed on 10/7 being brutally ripped away from her as they were both taken into Hamas captivity. A sign of life (chaim) is a good thing, especially on a day like today.

From darkness, light

It’s late, and I’m exhausted. Both physically, and emotionally. Seeing all this unfolding in a small country - one the size of Vancouver Island - is abnormal. Israel was established, some would say, to be a country like any other country. A liberal democracy, but one with Jewish rule, and a Jewish flag. Was it supposed to be a State of Jews? A Germany on the Mediterranean? Or a Jewish State, with an innate Jewish character?

Whatever the intent however, we all know that Israel is not, today, a country like any other. It lives and breathes with the successes and failures of its people; and sometimes, those successes and failures follow in procession, quick and dirty. Yom Haatzmaut follows Yom Hazikaron, happiness sometimes must follow sadness, and today, Tel Aviv followed Sderot.

Sure, the transition that I saw today - from Sderot to Tel Aviv, from quiet to loud, from death to life - was a lesson in contrasts, and was in some respects jarring, but it was also a microcosm of the broader Jewish story. To quote Chumbawumba, we get knocked down, but we get up again. This is our story. We live. This is how we have always transitioned from darkness to light, and from death to life. It is why we are still here today. I truly felt that today as I trudged down Dizengoff Street, wondering how on earth I’m going to fit all these books I bought in my hand luggage.

Chai Chai Chai

Am Yisrael Chai

This is the song that grandpa sang yesterday to dad, and today it’s me.