When the Shofar Sounds Alone

A Season Some Dread

September in Israel is glorious. The stifling heat of summer finally relents. The first rains wash months of dust from the streets. Pomegranates hang in cheerful red clusters on street corners, ready for Rosh HaShanah. A hush of expectation settles over the land as Israel prepares for the trio of fall feasts: Rosh HaShanah, Yom Kippur (Day of Atonement) and finally, the joyful release of Sukkot (Feast of Tabernacles).

For most families, this is a season of reflection, renewal and togetherness. Tables are crowded with loved ones and abundance. Apples are dipped in golden honey for a sweet new year.

But for many of our Holocaust survivors, it is the loneliest time of the year. Some are the very last of their family lines. Parents, siblings, spouses, even children have already passed. When the whole nation turns toward gathering, they face the holidays with an empty chair, an empty table and, too often, empty pockets.

Violeta is one of them. Decades ago, she made a quiet decision that has shaped her entire life: she chose never to have children. As a girl living through the Holocaust, hunger had followed her everywhere like a black cloud. She never knew if there would be food the next day. She could not bear the thought of bringing a child into the world and not being able to feed them. Now, in her later years, that same fear of scarcity has never fully released its grip, even though the danger is long past.

Elizabeta’s eyes always light up the moment our volunteers step through her door. She is over 90 now, and lately, the English she once spoke comfortably with our team slips away from her, replaced by her native Russian. It hardly matters. Language is not really what the visit is about. Simply sitting with her, holding her hand, reminding her that she is seen, is often enough to bring tears to her eyes.

Roza loves to talk when we visit. She tells the same stories every time, stories our volunteers already know by heart. We listen anyway, as if for the first time, because listening is its own kind of love. For a woman who spends most days in silence, being heard again is a gift almost as sweet as the honey we bring.

Honey and Bread for the Holidays

This is where Bridges for Peace steps in. Every year, ahead of the fall feasts, we deliver jars of honey, eaten on Rosh HaShanah to welcome a sweet new year, together with a special holiday food parcel packed with nutritious staples and extra sweet treats to make the season feel like a celebration rather than another day to endure.

This year, we want to do more than reach out to those already on our regular program. We aim to bless 2,000 Holocaust survivors across Jerusalem and Karmiel with honey, and 1,300 with a full festive food parcel.

For men and women who endured the deliberate starvation of the Holocaust, the sight of a full parcel of food is never a small thing. Our volunteers have watched grown men and women speechless at the door, undone by the simple sight of bread, oil and honey arriving in their arms. Hunger leaves scars decades cannot erase, and every jar of honey we deliver speaks straight to that old, aching place.