July 13, 2025

He told me that he feels like he lives a life of Russian Roulette…..Russian Roulette for the bad or for the good. He never knows when either is going to land on him. This has become the life of the Israeli during the past 20 months. A randomness of the horrible and of the good. Everyone we have spoken to has reported that they weren’t sure during the days of war with Iran, if theirs would be the home that was hit; if that was the night they might be escorted off with the angel of death.

And so, I will go backwards in days in this dispatch. One of the reasons we wanted to come as quickly as we could was to be able to lend a hand. Lauren’s boss’ cousin was in a building next to one that took a direct ballistic hit. It was hard to understand through their stories from afar. Sure, we all saw the most massive hits and those buildings that were destroyed, but it’s impossible to understand what happened to 20,000 Israelis whose lives will not physically return to normal for at least a year. Meaning they are now homeless. Guy is his name. Three days into the war, the apartment building next to his took a direct hit. He, his wife and 4 sons got into the safe room at 4:11 AM and the hit came 3 minutes later. They were sure they were hit directly, as the whole building swayed and shook violently. When they realized they were still alive he exited the safe room to find his apartment destroyed. Pipes and wires, leaking and sparking; dry wall and insulation torn to shreds; a carpet of glass and pieces of missile covered what was left. Indeed, his neighbor was shredded to death by the glass because her elderly state didn’t allow her enough time to get to the safe room. Several people were killed in this 4-building set. Many were injured. All will be traumatized for years. And just in this one place, all of them are now homeless, living in hotels (temporary granted by the government); all of them looking for apartments to rent in the interim, none of them unless they have help from the outside can afford what will be incumbent to pay. They must pay mortgage in their destroyed dwelling places and rent in their new ones. The government is providing about half of replacement costs for every item they had except the clothes on their backs the night of the attack. It is not enough except for those who are lucky enough to be connected to outside help, which this family is through the generosity of their cousins in America; and for many others because of your generosity. As an example, many of you at home who sent me with funds are now granting low-income families in this area to fill in the gaps. For them, it is random kindness; for us we know it is the least we can do….but please know that the gratitude they express to our community is overwhelming. And so, Lauren and I listened to their stories, shared your resources and helped them clean and box up what was left. I could go on, but Guy said the one thing that somehow was not destroyed was a book of Psalms his Dad had given him with an inscription of, “May this protect you always”. He said, “You know, I don’t if I believe in that stuff, but we randomly lived when it felt clear we were going to die. We are the lucky ones…..Russian Roulette for the good in almost the very same moment when we felt Russian Roulette for the bad.”

Last night were went to the demonstration at Hostages Square. I felt the same thing I do each time we have gone there: We are not doing enough. We are not praying enough. We are not advocating enough. We are not yelling from the rooftops enough. It is boiling hot in Tel Aviv, and I complain…..in the meanwhile, there are 20 living hostages who are boiling through their second summer in terror tunnels of hell, starving, tortured and beaten. Eli Sharabi, who returned from captivity this past January to find that his wife and kids had all been killed, spoke bravely and articulately: The only way our social contract works here in Israel is if we work do anything necessary to bring every soul home. He said that’s what it means to be Israeli. That’s what it means to be Jewish. He recounted it is the only reason he survived 15 months of hell…because he comes from a country that wouldn’t let him rot. We must not stop until we bring every single one home.

Shabbat was filled with ultimate good. Shabbat dinner with my dear classmate, Leon and his dear wife, Dassi; and their children…. a table filled with dear colleagues and new friends. Leon and Dassi make us feel like we are at home always and their table is filled with conversations of wisdom, learning, love and most of all joyful connection. The night moved too quickly.

And Shabbat day, wow, a surprise birthday party at the Rosenfeld’s, for Gail. Lauren and I were nervous all week that every time we saw them, we would slip. After all, I am the stupid one who told my aunt in the late 70’s that Darth Vader was indeed Luke Skywalker’s father before she saw the film and I have never lived that down. We felt so honored to be included with their best of friends and family from their 41 years in Israel. A day filled with laughter, deep conversation, the best grandchildren and a sense that we are simply at home with them…..someone asked the other day if I have family here in Israel and without missing a beat, I said, yes, their name is Rosenfeld, and they live in Rosh Ha Ayin.

The previous day, just for brevity I will say that we Joel, Gail, Lauren and I had the joy of seeing one of the great Israeli singers of the day, Yishai Ribo, WITH the Israeli Philharmonic. We were in heaven, as the pictures below will attest.

And finally, we of course went to see our dear friends from Nir Oz, living still temporarily in Carmei Gat. They are steadfast in their commitment to resettle. We(TBJ and friends of) have been their partners in that regard and I will have more to say soon, but it is almost miraculous how far we and they have come. This will manifest in reality. But in the meanwhile, 9 of the 50 hostages in Gaza are from Nir Oz. They are doing everything they can do create a new normal. But their lives are punctuated daily with reminders of the horrors they lived through. They see simultaneously in each other’s eye’s reminders of misery and resilience; of love and loss. They made us a feast of all kinds of BBQ. We sat and ate and drank and laughed. We shared stories of the profound and of the mundane. We argued about both Israeli and American politics. And yet, at the core of it all, there is sadness, for obvious reasons. There are missing spouses, siblings, children and parents. Lauren and I didn’t know any of them, but our minds wandered wondering what it would have been like to see them back on their bucolic kibbutz, as whole families. At one point, one of them was telling a story about someone who is now “doing great”….and suddenly they all burst into laughter. It took us a second; and we realized the laugh was a facetious one….as in: What will it ever be like for any of them to understand what “doing great in life” means. They toasted us; and all of you at home for what they see as a random act of kindness…how they feel that TBJ is their family. All Lauren and I could say is that we wish we never had the occasion to have to meet. This time, we all laughed facetiously, understanding the blessed irony in it all.

Roulette of the good or of the bad. Some of it is up to us and some of it isn’t. I guess it is what we do in the in between that determines what sews together the fabric of our being.

I know, too long again. But I assure you my soul carries way more than what I have expressed above. Thank you for staying with me.

Love from Tel Aviv,
Matthew