Haunted by inescapable truths after the recent hostage exchanges

As I continue to process President Trump’s startling pronouncement that the U.S. should take over Gaza and turn it into the “Riviera of the Middle East,” I am simultaneously haunted by so many of the facts on the ground regarding the recently released hostages, who were gaunt and starved hostages, and the meteoric rise in antisemitism here in the United States.

The words of three heroic individuals involved in dealing with the aftermath of October 7 continue to swirl in my memory. I was honored to hear their stories at the recent Hadassah National Assembly meetings in Florida.

Dr. Shiri Ben-David, chief psychologist at the Hadassah Medical Organization, shared with us her experience as she watched the first hostages’ release from Hamas captivity. She cried two sets of tears, she told us. One set of tears represented her happiness that these traumatized hostages were finally coming home; the second set of tears were of sadness because she knew well what a long, hard road they had ahead of them to gain back a normal life.

I’ve heard several Israeli medical professionals say that the silver lining in the October 7 massacre and its aftermath is that Israelis, who previously had been hesitant about seeking psychological help, now are more willing to speak openly about their debilitating anxiety. One Israeli told me that they used to say that a person who experienced a trauma was in denial if he seemingly went about his life as if nothing had happened. But, he said, “We’ve come to understand that it’s not denial. It’s a survival skill to put that stress aside for a while.”

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His comment reminded me of a colleague of mine, whom I admire tremendously. She would always come to board meetings with a big smile on her face, no matter what was going on in her life. For example, when her brother was terminally ill, I knew she had come to our meeting directly from visiting him. Yet she greeted me with her winning smile. I remember asking her, “How can you be smiling? Didn’t you just come from visiting your brother?”

With that smile still lighting up her face, though now combined with some pensiveness, she answered, “It’s called compartmentalizing. When I’m here, I’m no longer there. I am here.”

The second memory I have from those meetings is of the Israel Defense Forces commander who traveled to the United States to tell us how his arm was shattered by sniper fire and how he regained its use with the help of the specialists at the Hadassah Medical Organization’s Gandel Rehabilitation Center. He spoke with courage, conviction, and appreciation as he revealed to us that even though he still has screws in his arm, in four days he would be returning  to Gaza, to resume leadership of the 400 soldiers under his command.

My third memory — poignant in its own way — is of the harsh truths regarding pervasive antisemitism in the U.S. health care sector, as conveyed by Michelle Stravitz, inaugural chief executive officer of the American Jewish Medical Association. Founded the week of October 7, 2023, the AJMA is comprised not only of physicians but also of medical students, nurses, and other health professionals. Its mission is “to be a safe, enriching community with a unified voice for all Jewish healthcare workers.” As per the AJMA’s website: “We advocate to address contemporary issues affecting our members and society, including recently rising incidents of antisemitism and anti-Zionism that impact the workplace and patient care. We leverage our unified voice to stand strongly with Israel, to promote Jewish values and ethics in medicine and to combat antisemitism within the medical community.”

The AJMA’s advocacy is sorely needed. According to a survey by the University of Illinois Chicago, 88 percent of the respondents — physicians, nurses, clinical psychologists, and students in medical or related fields — said they had experienced at least one incident of antisemitism after October 7, 2023, compared with 40 percent who said they had experienced antisemitism before then. (Fortunately, other Jewish voices are also combating this shocking rise of antisemitism in health care as well.)

Bringing a more tangible understanding to the frightening statistics, Ms. Stravitz noted that at every level of relationship within health care, antisemitism has reared its head. What reality is that conveying? It means, she explained, that some physicians have stopped referring patients to their colleagues because they have stood up for Israel, and that patients have stopped going to doctors they trusted because they heard they were Zionists. Therapists have been blacklisted because they are Israel advocates. Medical grand rounds have morphed into spaces where health professionals feel entitled to air their distorted views about Israel committing “genocide” in Gaza.

My heart freezes every time I remember Ms. Stravitz’s words.

Just as my heart skips several beats as I remember, too, the words of my Israeli cousin who told me, not too long ago, “First, we have to get all our hostages home. Then we have to start preparing for the next war.  That is our life!”

Though, of course, I well understand why he says that, I have to keep believing that it will not be the case; that some day, the people of Israel will be able to stop bracing for war and concentrate fully on what they do so well: innovating and reaching out to help make our world a better place.

Lonye Debra Rasch of Short Hills is a past president of the Northern New Jersey region of Hadassah and a member of Hadassah’s national assembly and the Hadassah Writers Circle. Married to an international attorney and the mother of two daughters and grandmother of three small children, she is a big advocate of yoga, book clubs, and time with family and friends.