One year ago today, I was on vacation in San Sebastian in Spain, enjoying the first real vacation I had had in more than a year. I woke early to my phone buzzing, over and over again.
When I grabbed it, half asleep, I saw the name of my friend Lior Niski, the CEO of the Sha’ar HaNegev Municipality in Israel. For 26 years, Sha’ar HaNegev has been sister city to San Diego’s Jewish Community, and is now an official sister city. Lior was distraught, terrified, in tears.
“Ofir (the Mayor) is murdered. The terrorists came and murdered him. I needed you to hear it from me.” When I asked him if he was safe, he told me “They are still here — they’re everywhere. People are trapped and injured and we can’t help them. We can’t help them.”
At that moment, with the terrible news of Ofir’s death, I woke to the reality of the Oct. 7 Hamas massacre. At that moment, although I could not image how dramatically, the ground had shifted under our feet; my life, and the experience of the entire Jewish community in San Diego and around the world was irrevocably altered.
Ofir Libstein, the Mayor of Sha’ar HaNegev, was my friend. He was a visionary leader, with huge dreams for this region, sitting right on the border of Gaza. He rushed out as soon as the attack began to defend his kibbutz, his community. He was one of nearly 1,200 Israelis murdered that day. Almost 80 of them from our sister community. 250 were taken hostage, 23 from Sha’ar HaNegev. Libstein’s life was a light that went out too soon, along with so many others, on that day that plunged Israel and much of the region into a terrible war.
For San Diego’s Jewish community, this has been a devastating year. Our hearts have broken for our family and friends in Israel. For the hostages and the soldiers, for their families, for all of the evacuees, and all of those whose lives have been upended by this seemingly endless war, now being fought on seven fronts. Thousands upon thousands of rockets have been fired at Israel, by Iran and its proxies, Hamas, Hezbollah, and the Houthis, all of whom have expressed their desire to see the Jewish people wiped off the face of the earth, and the state of Israel vanquished. All of this would be terrible enough. It is terrible enough.
Yet although the war is more than 7,000 miles away, our lives here in America were turned upside down on Oct. 7, and they will never be the same. Harmful and at times threatening and violent antisemitism, sometimes couched in the false guise of advocating against the Israeli government, sometimes just pure, unadulterated hatred out in the open, has risen to levels beyond anything any of us, with the exception of survivors of the Holocaust, have seen in our lifetimes.
We have, at times, felt alone, isolated, and shocked by the rapidity of the rise in virulent antisemitism. Horrified by what we are seeing in Israel, and by the indifference and outright hostility we see from people we thought we knew. We may not feel welcome in spaces where we used to feel completely at home.
And we often feel we are living in a parallel universe. Worrying about armed security at our houses of worship and our preschools and community gatherings. Seeing terrorist organizations also responsible for the deaths of hundreds of Americans being hailed as “freedom fighters,” or hearing people deny the reality of Oct. 7, a day of tremendous brutality and terror.
In spite of these challenges, and perhaps in some ways because of them, this day of mourning for our community is also a day to celebrate the resilience and strength of the Jewish people. We may have had to pass by armed guards and through bag checks and metal detectors, but last week, many thousands of us attended meaningful and joyful Rosh Hashanah services and programs throughout San Diego County.
Our Jewish community has raised more than $20 million to support Israelis most impacted by the war. On our college campuses, which have become hotbeds of anti-Israel and antisemitic activity, hundreds of Jewish students proudly participated in welcome-back barbecues, and Friday night Shabbat dinners are packed with Jewish students and non-Jewish friends and allies. We are seeing a surge of engagement and involvement in every aspect of Jewish life — synagogues, JCC’s, day schools, camps and more.
For more than three years, it has been my privilege to lead Jewish Federation of San Diego. My next few years will undoubtedly be very different from my first few. The challenges facing Jewish life today are significant, as are the struggles ahead for our brothers and sisters in Israel.
But a few days ago on Rosh Hashanah, Jews around the world, and right here in my own synagogue, listened to the call of the “shofar,” the ram’s horn, a powerful and bracing call to action we only hear this month and during the Jewish High Holidays. When it came time for the sounding of the shofar, nearly 100 young children rushed in and crowded the “bimah,” the podium, excited to hear and to be a part of this ancient ritual. Their shining faces brought a bright light into a very dark time. They made me think of all the ways our community has stood up for Israel, and for one another.
As we all sang the blessings, clapping along, I felt joy, and pride in our tradition, our ancient history, and in all the ways as Jews we work to repair this broken world. Today, I mourn my friend Ofir, and the others who died that day and in the long year since. And today, in their memory, I am choosing hope. I am choosing resilience.
Together we are stronger than the forces that seek to destroy us. It is this strength that we will draw upon to ensure safe and thriving Jewish life that contributes to the rich tapestry of life here in San Diego and around the world.
Heidi Gantwerk is president and CEO of the Jewish Federation of San Diego.
(Except for the headline, this story has not been edited by PostX News and is published from a syndicated feed.)
