I walked up to the wall. But not just any wall! It’s a memorial wall, unlike any I’ve ever seen. A group from Ramat Beit Shemesh goes south every Chanukah to celebrate the holiday with IDF soldiers on an army base. This year, our tour guide referred to our outing as the Tour of Horrors and Heroes. The Tkuma Memorial was the first stop on our journey through tragedy and resilience.
The Tkuma Memorial, known as the “car cemetery,” features burnt cars piled on top of each other to form a wall. These were the cars young people drove to a party and the vehicles they used in desperate attempts to escape a festival turned into a scene of terror. The site also has rows of bombed, smashed, and bullet-riddled cars, trucks, and emergency vehicles. Nearby, there’s a pile of motorcycles used by the terrorists to commit unimaginable acts of terror.
When the news of the massacre began trickling in on Motza’ei Simchas Torah, I listened in shock. Visiting the Gaza envelope, seeing the destruction up close, and hearing the stories of survivors did nothing to diminish my shock.
As we reflected on the unfathomable circumstances faced by those attending the festival, we traveled to our next stop: Kibbutz Nirim, located about seven kilometers (4.3 miles) east of Khan Yunis in Gaza. Adele, a longtime resident of the kibbutz (since 1975), shared the history of the community, what transpired on October 7, and their plans for the future.
The kibbutz was founded in 1946 as part of the “11 Points in the Negev” initiative by the Jewish Agency Executive, led by David Ben-Gurion. The goal was to establish a Jewish presence in the Negev before the partition of Palestine. On Motza’ei Yom Kippur, settlers set up camp at 11 pre-determined locations, including Nirim, Be’eri, and Tkuma, ensuring the Negev would be included as part of a Jewish state.
Adele spoke of the idyllic lifestyle in the pastoral kibbutz that drew hundreds of people to live on the Gaza border. Nirim is an agricultural kibbutz producing organically grown peanuts, sweet potatoes, turnips, carrots, wheat, barley, avocados, and other vegetables, much of which are exported to Europe. Residents lived a communal life with a strong sense of togetherness, celebrating holidays and milestones as a community. On October 6, they had celebrated the 77th anniversary of its founding.
The following morning, on October 7, Adele had planned to wake early to photograph a field of wildflowers in full bloom, hoping to capture their beauty at sunrise. Ultimately, she decided to sleep in. That decision likely saved her life. Had she gone, she would have been injured, kidnapped, or killed, as were her close friends who had ventured out that morning. When Adele woke to sirens, she wasn’t overly concerned, trusting the kibbutz’s security strip and protective wall. She never imagined that terrorists could infiltrate the community.
Initially, residents thought the rocket attacks were the usual threats they were accustomed to. It didn’t take long to realize something far worse was happening. Gunfire and shouts in Arabic echoed outside their homes. Residents were instructed to lock their doors and windows and lock themselves in their safe rooms. However, the safe rooms – designed to protect against rocket attacks – were not equipped with locks. Adele hid with her son in her safe room, while her other children and grandchildren hid in theirs.
Terrorists reached Adele’s home but left abruptly. We later learned that when the kibbutz’s first responders began fighting back, the terrorists in charge called for reinforcements, causing some to abandon their attacks mid-act. Adele and other residents were saved because of this intervention.
Tragically, several residents were killed, many were injured, and some were taken captive to Gaza. After hours of terror and hiding, survivors were rescued and relocated. They first moved to a hotel in Eilat, then to apartments in Beersheva, where they remain today, striving to preserve their sense of community despite being displaced.
Adele once believed that Gazans across the fence wanted peace and happiness for their children, just as she did. Now, she realizes she had miscalculated. While some may desire peace, they are far fewer than she once thought. Adele recognizes that the horrors of October 7 have forever changed those who lived through them. “We will never be the same,” she says. “But we will rise stronger and rebuild.” Their determination to return and rebuild is nothing short of heroic.
From the personal heartbreak of Nirim, we moved to the communal grief of the Nova Festival Memorial, located in the Re’im parking lot near Kibbutz Re’im, where the festival took place. The Nova Festival was a weekend music event attended by approximately 3,500 people, mostly Israelis aged 20 to 40. A significant percentage of the victims of the October 7 Massacre were from the festival. They faced unimaginable brutality with no meaningful resistance.
Nestled among swaying trees and blooming flowers, the poignant memorial is set against the backdrop of the very site where the tragedy unfolded. Photos of the victims and hostages hang everywhere. The Jewish National Fund (JNF) erected posts displaying pictures of the victims alongside Israeli flags. Families planted trees in memory of their loved ones last Tu BiSh’vat. Artists added red anemone sculptures at the base of each post, symbolizing the flowers that bloom in the Re’im forest and the young lives tragically cut short.
Families personalize the memorial posts with objects that reflect their loved ones. At the hour of Chanukah candle lighting, we saw several families lighting menorahs at their loved ones’ posts. One father, who lost two sons, explained that he felt no reason to light candles at home and came to light them at the memorial instead. His wife has not yet been able to bring herself to visit the site. Other relatives accompanied him. When he asked where our group was from, Rabbi Kops, founder of Ezrat Achim – a chesed organization in Ramat Beit Shemesh that is heavily involved in supporting those affected by the war – replied, “Ramat Beit Shemesh.” He explained that rather than seeking entertainment during Chanukah, we chose to visit the memorial to honor the victims.
The men in our group sang slow, heartfelt songs, accompanied by guitars. The family joined in, visibly moved by the solidarity of strangers. The singing eventually shifted to the uplifting tune of “Y’vanim,” and they sang and danced in memory of the victims. The bereaved family received our message: They are not alone.
It was difficult to leave the family and the memorial. Our hearts were heavy with grief but also filled with hope. Just as the Maccabees defeated the Syrian-Greeks thousands of years ago, we will overcome today’s enemies.
Our final stop was an army base, where we joined the soldiers for a Chanukah party and barbecue. The atmosphere was filled with delicious food, singing, dancing, and camaraderie. It was a heavy day, but it ended on a positive note.
Throughout history, Jews have been attacked simply for being Jewish. Yet we always rise again, rebuilding and growing stronger. Today is no different. We see people turning tragedy into inspiration, despair into resilience. May we soon see the ultimate G’ulah.
Please continue to daven for the recovery of the wounded, the release of the hostages, and the safe return of our soldiers and security personnel.
By Suzie Steinberg
