This Pesach was the first time since returning to Israel from America in 1994 with a husband and two little girls that I was back in the US for the holiday, celebrating the Seder with my now two adult daughters and their families. Although the news from Israel was devastating, the traditions of the evening and being together as a family were a great comfort to all of us. Many years ago, when we lived in America, we made a pact with the girls that we would insist on reading the Haggadah in Hebrew, and so it was this time as well.
I returned to Israel a day after the ceasefire was declared, in time to resume my Service year after the holiday. As is our tradition, each Sunday afternoon our shinshin group meets to eat and study together. This time we discussed the status of small things, as it appears in Zechariah, chapter 4, verse 10: “Who dares despise the day of small things.” This discussion about whether small things matter, and our conclusion they they do, encouraged me and gave me energy to continue with my tasks.
The week was much better than expected, from what I heard from the children, both in the elementary school and in the junior high school, they had a good time at home. Contrary to the center and the north of the country, this time the western Negev did not suffer much, and the children did not have to run to safe rooms at night,it makes a huge difference.
Tuesday was Holocaust Memorial Day, and I worked with the second graders. The teacher gave me a text from their reader to discuss with the children. It was a one-page edited excerpt from the autobiography of one of our beloved children’s authors, Alona Frankel, who is herself a Holocaust survivor. It tells the story of the child Alona, who, together with her father and mother, was hidden by a Polish friend of the family, a carpenter in his workshop at the back of his home.
At first, the children found it difficult to understand that Polish people who were not Jewish saved their Jewish neighbors, and we talked about it. The story itself reads almost like an adventure: the Nazis entered the shop, the family hid in a closet, and they were saved. The children were very engaged, and I felt that it gave them a way to begin learning about the Holocaust. They were happy to learn that Alona Frankel was “a real person,” and I showed them a photo of her as a child.
By chance, on that same day, I met a friend and told her about this experience. As is often the case in Israel, she mentioned that a close family member of hers is a neighbor of Alona Frankel. She suggested that I write about the lesson and how impressed the children were by the story. My friend believed that it would make the author happy, I hope it did.
I hold a PhD in English Literature from the Hebrew University in Jerusalem, specializing in writing about issues related to women, literature, culture, and society. Having lived in the US for 15 years (between 1979-1994), I bring a diverse perspective to my work.
As a widow, in March 2016, I initiated a support and growth-oriented Facebook group for widows named “Widows Move On.” The group has now grown to over 2000 members, providing a valuable space for mutual support and understanding.