Just like after the Holocaust, the survivors of 10-7 must recover emotionally as well as physically. Some of the stories, from both 10-7 and the Holocaust, further accentuate this point. Amit Siman-Tov-Vahaba, who lost her entire family in the 10-7 attack by Hamas, says, “My deepest beliefs were turned upside down.” Batia Holin, a survivor of Kibbutz Kfar Azza, explained similar disillusionment by saying, “I lost my optimism and my faith. They not only killed friends of mine, they killed my beliefs.” Further, such disillusionment rattles ideals and convictions that have been handed down through the generations, fraying them beyond repair. Yet in 2023, Des Moines’ last Holocaust survivor, David Wolnerman, described his faith as having been transformed with the idea of inspiring those who come after him. “If it wouldn’t be for God,” he told the Des Moines Register, “I wouldn’t be alive.” The translation of that shift in beliefs takes more time than may be available when perpetuated by trauma. A reserve soldier in the IDF named Tom, who, upon hearing news of the Hamas attack on 10-7 longed to immediately fight to protect his family, revealed the struggle he had with his wife when he tried to convince her to evacuate as he returned to his Unit. Looking back though, Tom says he could understand his wife’s perspective because, “Home is where you feel safe, but that’s an illusion here because one bomb can obliterate you.” Tom shared his experience, his anxiety, and his beliefs - he’s told his story. “I hope that when I share my own experience, people can understand a bit more and maybe just have a bit more empathy,” Millet Ben Haim said on the University of St. Louis campus. “And at the very least [they] understand that the situation is complicated and people should not be so quick to go and spread ideas that they’re not certain about.” After such a seismic shift in perspective caused by trauma, survivors of the 10-7 massacre may receive guid- ance from the survivors of the Holocaust (since 10-7 is the current generation’s Holo- caust). An 88 year old survivor of the Holocaust named Hannah Gofrit confronts the horrors of 10-7 by actively seeking out the young people who sheltered in safe rooms and beneath anything they could find, including bodies, to hide from Hamas. Gofrit herself had once hid in an underground potato shed to escape the Nazis. Gofrit had the opportunity to meet the children from Kibbutz Mefalsim, which had been attacked by Hamas, and was able to tell them that they were not alone. Her message to them was that this trauma, too, could be overcome. Though she never thought Jews would again be the vic- tims of such mass atrocities, she realizes that the audienc- es to whom she speaks are thirsty for optimism. Hundreds of other Holo- caust survivors are, like Gof- rit, gathering with younger generations to tell their sto- ries. An initiative to do so has been around for 13 years and was originally thought of as a way to keep Holocaust survi- vor stories alive. And they all agree that Oc- tober 7 felt like a Holocaust. Omri Shtivi, whose brother Idan was kidnapped by Hamas, said that both their grandparents are Holocaust survivors. He says, “This is a much lower scale, but I think that anyone who has seen the pictures from that Saturday cannot call it anything else.” A Holocaust survivor from Germany, Judith Tzamir, who moved to Israel in 1964, decided to make a pilgrimage to Auschwitz in Poland after hearing of the horrors of 10- 7. She had previously avoided the trip, but she knew 10-7 was the worst attack on Jews since the Holocaust. Tzamir remembers her mother hiding her Jewish identity during World War II by serving in the German army. 10-7 resurfaced those traumatic childhood memories. As a result, she couldn’t function during the day and had relentless nightmares at night. Tzamir is not alone in her trauma. Approximately 2,000 Ho- locaust survivors were forced to evacuate their homes in Israel due to the war in Gaza; the Ministry of Welfare and Social Affairs estimates that 132,000 Holocaust survivors live in Israel. For many people, the traumas of the Holocaust and 10-7 are intertwined. Before Des Moines’ last known Holocaust survivor, David Wolnerman, died at the age of 96, he realized the importance of telling his sto- ry to the younger generations and he did so through effec- tive outlets, including KCCI. One of the things Wolner- man shared was that he was moved between Auschwitz, Birkenau, and Dachau for five years. Then at 18 years of age, he, and other Jews, were liberated. Iowa’s governor Reynolds said of him in 2023, “Despite enduring the horrors of Nazi concentration camps as a young boy, I was always inspired by David’s optimism and his generosity to the Des Moines community. He led a life we can all learn from - focused on faith, family, and community.” Another Holocaust sur- vivor, Robert Freier, told the congregation of Beth Israel in San Diego that he, “thinks of the war often,” but he’s, “nev- er let it hold him back.” Initially, he was sent to Scotland as a child after the war, then later he moved to Israel, which made him feel like he “owns the world.” His pursuit of education brought him to America. Freier says that it’s, “im- portant to share your stories with the younger people.” Though Freier admits to having an abandonment complex, he compensates for it by calling his kids every day. In learning what Holocaust survivors have done to get back in touch with humanity, especially after reading about the passing of the oldest Holo- caust survivor in Des Moines, David Wolnerman, a common thread becomes clear. Sharing the trauma, with the intention of helping other trauma survivors or teaching younger generations about the horrors of the past so they ar- en’t repeated, is a proven key to emotional recovery.
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