Rebuilding the Ruins

David’s Story

Every night before closing, David used to drive to the local bakeries in Beit Shemesh. He never called ahead. It wasn’t necessary. Everyone knew him. He collected the leftover bread and delivered it to families in need, without ceremony, with a joy that was impossible not to catch. By day, he coordinated Bridges for Peace’s food deliveries throughout Beit Shemesh, knowing each family by name. He has done this for over 30 years.

Then came March 1, 2026.

 During the opening week of the Forty Day War with Iran, a ballistic missile slammed into a public bomb shelter beneath a synagogue near David’s home. Nine people were killed, among them three siblings. Within a 1,640-foot (500-m.) radius, the blast blew out windows, ripped doors from their hinges, severed plumbing and shattered everything inside. David’s home was inside that radius. Although he and his family survived, their home did not.

There’s one more thing you need to know. David has recently been diagnosed with early-stage dementia. For most families, a destroyed home is a catastrophe, but for someone in David’s condition, the loss of everything familiar shatters the soul. Restoring his home means gifting this precious man who has given so much to the needy around him a sense of dignity and safety in the agonizing years ahead.

The cost to fully repair David’s home after damage of this scale is approximately US $350,000. Israel’s government will cover a portion, but a substantial shortfall remains, and it falls to people like us—his Christian brothers and sisters around the world—to step into that gap.

For 30 years, David showed up for people who had nowhere else to turn. Now it’s our honor to show up for him. 

A Promise That Doesn’t Expire

I will never forget the words spoken to me hours after October 7. Our team had made its way through a warzone to the hardest hit communities on the Gaza border to deliver humanitarian aid. Our first stop was Ofakim, a wholesome agricultural community of just over 33,000. I remember how surreal it felt to see every shop, school, home and office shut tight. Blinds hung low over windows. No pedestrians. No traffic. Only stunned sorrow wrapped around the town like a wet, woolen blanket.

We parked outside the home of our contact, Gabi, and piled 125 bags of food onto his porch, destined for families still hiding in bomb shelters. In his kitchen, he pointed to a sturdy marble table. His house had no bomb shelter, he explained. So, when the rockets fell, that’s where he and his wife hid. It was there, huddled underneath the table side-by-side, that they heard the gunshots outside on the morning of October 7.

Gabi had served in the army. He knew the sound. He rushed outside to help, only to witness, frozen in horror, as Hamas terrorists, in organized formation, shot two of his friends where they sat—as they did every morning—on the park bench across the street. 

As we said goodbye to Gabi, he gestured to the food on his table. “You came to help in two ways,” he said, shaking fist pressed to his chest. “The people must eat. That’s the physical. But then there’s the heart.” His voice broke, tears running down the deep grooves the Israeli sun and years had carved into his face. “This shows us we are not alone.”

Still Not Alone

That was three years and many lifetimes ago. Now, the sirens have quieted, but the distress has not. If anything, the need has only become more visible now that the smoke has cleared. God promises that His people “shall rebuild the ancient ruins; they shall raise up the former devastations; they shall repair the ruined cities” (Isa. 61:4). We believe He is calling us—you and me—to be part of that rebuilding, house by house, family by family.

Will you help us finish what we started? Will you help rebuild David’s home, and the hundreds like his still waiting? Your gift to our Crisis Response Fund tells Israel, in the quiet after the sirens, what Gabi already knows to be true: “Israel, you are not alone. Your Christian brothers and sisters are with you.”

With shalom and gratitude,

Rev. Peter J. Fast

International President & CEO