'WE CANNOT GO BACK'
Survivors of Kibbutz Nir Oz turn to U.S. Jewry to help them move to a new home, away from the horrors of Oct. 7
ATLANTA — Of all the tragic stories that have seeped out of Israel since the devastating surprise attack on several communities near the Gaza border on Oct. 7, the story of Kibbutz Nir Oz has stood out.
Less than two miles from the Gaza border, the 400 people in the agricultural kibbutz on what’s now known as Black Saturday were abandoned by the Israel Defense Forces. Though the dozens of other mostly agricultural communities, as well as the towns of Sderot and Ofakim, that came under attack on Oct. 7 can rightly condemn the military’s admittedly wildly insufficient response to the terrorist hordes that breached through the border and entered their homes, only Nir Oz was entirely abandoned by the IDF for several hours, apparently due to an unintentional oversight.
In the hours that it took for the military to send troops to Nir Oz, when the community was left to fend for itself, invading terrorists killed or kidnapped one-quarter of its residents. Many more were injured. Several Nir Oz hostages remain in Gaza today. Seventy percent of the kibbutz was burned to the ground.
At the end of June, a handful of Nir Oz survivors traveled to the U.S. to share their story, apparently penetrating the hearts and pocketbooks of American Jews. Recounting their losses since the early morning of Oct. 7, they explained why a large group of mostly young families have decided not to return to their beloved kibbutz, but instead hope to relocate as a group to another kibbutz further from the Gaza Strip.
Approximately 60% of the kibbutz members and 80% of the families with children have decided to relocate as a group, according to Chen Itzik, born and raised in Nir Oz, who is leading the fundraising effort.
“We looked at 12 kibbutzim in the area to see if they have enough plots that we can settle in,” he said. Kibbutz Beit Nir, located some 25 miles from Gaza, “wants us to join them as members.”
Though they’ve found a place to go, relocating dozens of people is an expensive proposition, expected to cost more than $25 million.
The Nir Oz survivors’ decision to relocate instead of rebuild their community also makes them stand out — and makes them ineligible for much of the government funding, at least for now. And so they are looking for alternative donors.
“We feel uncomfortable asking for this help,” Itzik emphasized. “We never ask for anything. For us to go and ask is to put us in an uncomfortable position. But the fact is that people need to know the Nir Oz story. It’s really unique. They have lost everything.”
The survivors have been speaking and showing a haunting 17-minute video at gatherings in Atlanta homes and to family foundations and Jewish federations in Atlanta and New York about their need “to find a way to recover and heal in a quiet place together,” said Itzik. “We cannot go back.” Before Oct. 7, the video explains, the Nir Oz residents believed they were being protected by the army and the country, “but no one was guarding us or would come to our aid” during the attack.
Longtime Atlanta Jewish community professional David Sarnat said, “I’ve been in the business a long time and I’ve never seen anything like this. People are so touched” by the Nir Oz story.
“Everybody that hears [the Nir Oz story] wants to help,” agreed Steve Berman, who hosted close to 100 people invited to his Atlanta home on short notice to hear from kibbutz members Itzik, Amit Siman Tov and her sister Koren. Fighting tears, the sisters spoke about the murders of their American-born mother, Carol, and their younger brother Johnny, his wife and three young children who lived next door.
After the trio’s short visit in Atlanta, Itzik met up with Joel Rosenfeld, a U.S.-born Israeli tour guide, who has helped the Nir Oz survivors set up meetings with connections and potential funders in the New York area.
“How can you not be moved?” Seth Merrin, founder and CEO of New York-based Liquidnet Holdings, told eJP days after he committed, along with his siblings, to contribute $250,000 toward the relocation of the Nir Oz families. Merrin — a childhood friend of Rosenfeld — said his family met with Itzik for about an hour, listening to the Nir Oz story, then asked them to leave the room for a few minutes. When they returned, he announced their decision.
“I wanted them to leave there” with the commitment, he said. “There’s an urgency to get these people relocated. They’re homeless. There are kids involved.” Merrin said his family “gives 1% of pretax income to philanthropic initiatives. There is no shortage of needs, but we look for something that is important.”
He was already reaching out to contacts he has with “multibillion-dollar foundations” to encourage others to contribute.
“I hadn’t seen Joel in 30 years,” he said. They had both participated in Young Judaea programs, as had Gita and Steve Berman. The latter describes Rosenfeld as his “closest friend growing up.”
Rosenfeld was connected with Nir Oz through his daughter, Ayelet, who served in an army intelligence unit with Johnny Siman Tov and his wife. The unit’s alumni group, Rosenfeld explained, decided to adopt Nir Oz and raise money to help the remnants of the wounded community.
In his role as a tour provider and guide, Rosenfeld has arranged trips led by Rabbi Matthew Gewirtz, senior rabbi of Temple B’nai Jeshurun in Short Hills, N.J., for 25 years. When the religious leader traveled to Israel last December, Rosenfeld took him to Nir Oz where Itzik shared the horrific story of the kibbutz.
When Gewirtz told his congregants about Nir Oz, they started replacing bicycles and tools that had been damaged during the Hamas onslaught. “We were in the middle of a capital campaign for our building,” he recalled, “and a lay leader came to me and said, ‘We need to raise an extra $1 million for Nir Oz’.” At that time, Itzik told the rabbi to hold onto the money: “We are in a place of trauma. We don’t know what we need.”
In January, during a solidarity mission by three dozen members of the synagogue, Itzik guided the group through the burned-out kibbutz. “I have led 20 trips to Israel during my career and this was the most intense,” Gewirtz recalled. “We didn’t want the trip to be ‘war porn.’” Instead, it became the beginning of a twinning relationship in which the congregants not only started raising money for Nir Oz, but it also brought eight Nir Oz bar and bat mitzvah children to Short Hills for 10 days of fun activities in June. Gewirtz said there could have been a ninth bar mitzvah joining the group, but the child had been a hostage in Gaza and his father remains a captive there, so he wasn’t able to join.
As of July 1, Gewirtz reported that his synagogue had raised $700,000 and he expects that the remaining $300,000 needed to reach its goal will be committed by the end of the summer. “[The Nir Oz survivors] are not professional fundraisers. They are kibbutzniks,” said Gewirtz.
Rather than contribute to efforts such as the Israel Emergency Fund that was launched by the Jewish Federations of North America in the wake of the Oct 7 attack, Temple B’nai Jeshurun “wanted to raise money that goes directly to something we know.”
Nine months after the successful campaign that raised $846.8 million, JFNA has distributed just over half of the funds, according to its latest allocation report, which has led to some criticism.
JFNA is one of the many organizations with which Itzik has met, pleading the uniqueness and needs of Nir Oz members. But as Merrin noted, unlike his family fund, large organizations typically don’t make decisions quickly, needing to run allocations through committees and boards. While Merrin added that he hopes “we can speed the process along,” some executives in the Jewish funding world express frustration at the speed of the allocation process.
Sarnat, the Atlanta communal professional, pointed out that the possibility of funding kibbutz members who don’t want to return to their kibbutz “wasn’t part of [JFNA’s] plan. This issue wasn’t on the map. This was an unanticipated need. This is a ‘big ask.’”
Others are less understanding. “The money is not getting to the people fast enough,” one person familiar with the issue told eJP, speaking on condition of anonymity to discuss a sensitive matter.
Israeli philanthropists and tech entrepreneurs are also stepping up to help. As Steve Berman, an Atlanta-based real estate developer and philanthropist, described the Nir Oz task: “This is a startup.”
In Atlanta, potential funders express optimism and an understanding of the urgency of the needs of members of Nir Oz. Referring to Itzik’s talk to a group of fund managers in that city, Bernie Marcus, the Home Depot co-founder and major donor to Jewish causes through his eponymous foundation, called on local, national and Israeli donors to step up.
“There is nothing normal about the conversations or presentation. The displaced must find hope,” Marcus told eJP. “The war continues and all they want is to be reunited with family and friends and find a path forward as quickly as possible. The Atlanta community working with national efforts and most important, the Israeli community, must quickly come together to collaborate, communicate and take action.”
Rich Walter, chief of programs and grantmaking at the Jewish Federation of Greater Atlanta, told eJP: “We are deeply moved by the story of survival and perseverance of our friends from Kibbutz Nir Oz and recognize that for many survivors of Oct. 7, returning to their former homes is not an option. We are working with our partners at Jewish Federations of North America to understand how best to support the group from Nir Oz as well as to ensure that any other community groups who may be in a similar situation also have resources for their future.”
Itzik told eJP that he also met with Nir Oz’s sister city, Chicago, and he said, “all the meetings went really well. I felt we touched the hearts” of people. In one meeting, the mother of four children whose husband was murdered on Itzik’s balcony told their story. The kids need to know they will have a home, she told the Chicago audience.
“The people need to have a future. The community needs a vision of what will be in two years,” said Itzik. “There’s a sense of urgency.”
But while the community members want the certainty of knowing that things are progressing, “we don’t need all the money now,” Itzik said. He hopes an architect can start work on their new community in three months. In two years, the former Nir Oz members hope to be living in Kibbutz Beit Nir, which will nearly double that kibbutz’s membership.
Itzik is also optimistic about the ongoing negotiations with the Israeli government in which the Nir Oz families are requesting a government subsidy to help cover costs for the land in Beit Nir. In April, the government approved the establishment of the Tekuma Administration to be responsible for rebuilding of the damaged areas in what is referred to in Israel as the “Gaza Envelope.” But Tekuma, which means rebirth in Hebrew, was formed to rebuild the existing communities. So far, it is offering financial assistance to kibbutz members who want to return to their former homes, but not to those who want to relocate.
“I know it will happen,” Itzik said. “I am strong but some of the people from the community are in a big trauma.”
Ed. Note: An earlier version of this article incorrectly stated that the Nir Oz survivors were ineligible for funding from the Jewish Federations of North America’s campaign.