freshly unfurled beauty. It was almost as if nature 
was standing up in a way that the people of Nir 
Oz could not, announcing boldly and defiantly 
that Am Yisrael Chai, and we will stand vigil until 
the time when you can finally return home, and 
the healing process can begin. 
After several other difficult stops, including the 
Nova Festival site and a “car graveyard,” our day 
ended at an army base where 60 young women 
live, work and train together. We spent the eve-
ning getting to know these brave soldiers, helping 
them set aside their frightening reality, if just for a 
few hours. 
It’s easy to forget how young these heroes are, 
18-22 year-olds who are (or will be) risking their 
lives, not only out of duty, but also because they 
feel so strongly about the State of Israel that they 
are willing to put their lives on the line for it. 
These are some of the toughest women I have 
ever met. However, they spoke to us openly and 
animatedly, sharing their fears and the trauma 
they’ve experienced in the last eight months. At 
the end of the evening, there were hugs and tears 

as we said our farewells. We brought them much 
needed joy, and they did the same for us in turn.
The world has changed since Oct. 7. My world 
has changed. But I didn’t know quite how much 
until this experience. During my 10 days in Israel, 
I met some of the country’s greatest heroes, men 
and women literally putting themselves in harm’s 
way to protect our homeland and their fellow 
humans. I spoke to the families of hostages and 
fallen soldiers whose tangible grief is itself a liv-
ing, breathing entity. I sat with injured soldiers 
and listened to their stories, knowing full well that 
even once their bodies have healed, their minds 
will still have a long, hard road ahead. 
I felt conflicted about my love and loyalty for 
my surrogate country coupled with my intense 
sadness about the ongoing humanitarian crisis 
that is devastating the people of Gaza mere miles 
away. I cried. A lot. I met 40 incredible women, 
and our shared experience will bond us together 
forever. 
Our collective job now is to synthesize this 
experience in a way that we can share, not just in 

our own community, but beyond it. It’s import-
ant that people across all ends of the social and 
political spectrum know what happened there 
last fall, and that in spite of the evil, we are not 
victims, but survivors. As one of our speakers, 
Ilana Cowland, said, it is our responsibility to be 
ambassadors for strength and goodness in our 
homeland. “Don’t let the loud mosquitoes make 
more noise than the sleeping lion,” she said. “Roar 
really loud.”
Every day we have a choice about how we view 
and react to the world around us. Ryan Dembs 
taught us that. A loving husband, father, brother 
and son, Ryan was a faithful Zionist who wore 
his faith proudly but privately. I didn’t know Ryan 
personally, but he has made an indelible impact 
on my life, and I’m grateful to him and his family 
for their love, generosity and, most importantly, 
their faith in the fact that 41 Zionist lionesses, in 
the face of fear, would roar. 

Marni Raitt is the Executive Director at the Detroit Jewish News 

Foundation.

Mission participants at the Kotel in Jerusalem

18 | NOVEMBER 3 • 2024 Yeshiva Beth Yehudah Special Edition J
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