Sar-El Volunteers for Israel

This summer I spent two weeks in one of the most conflict-ridden parts of the world. I wasn’t just going for a visit; I was going as a volunteer for the Israel Defense Forces (IDF).

My mother, who moved from Israel to Canada at 16, begged me, in her gentle way, to reconsider.

“Wouldn’t you have more fun staying with your cousins near Tel Aviv?” she asked, worried about my safety.

Israel is tiny. It is surrounded on three sides by Lebanon, Syria, Jordan and Egypt. Only Egypt and Jordan have agreed to a shaky peace with Israel, an unpopular stance in the Arab world.

Maybe my mom was right, but I didn’t care. My cousins had served their mandatory years (two for girls and three for boys) in the IDF, shouldn’t I contribute too?

I felt unsettled enjoying the beautiful beaches and bustling nightlife on the port of Tel Aviv without considering the effort put into keeping those places safe.

When June rolled around, I put any lingering doubt to rest and packed my bags, trying not to worry about which shoes would match my uniform.

It wasn’t until I got to Israel that I found out the base I would be on was nearly at the border with Lebanon. I hadn’t expected to be on a border. I wasn’t really sure what I had expected, but I was in for an eye-opening experience.

Within an hour of arriving at the base with a group of 12 other youth from around the world, I was given an ill-fitting uniform and a volunteer badge. The badges saved us from a scolding or two for wearing our hair down or not tucking in our shirts.

The next morning, we woke up too early in our bunk beds and were driven to an outpost to do odd jobs. Two unlucky volunteers got stuck in the kitchen each day chopping up vegetables, while the rest of us repaired camouflage netting and filled sandbags, sneaking peeks across the border to Lebanon.

We worked until dinnertime, breaking often for chocolate spread and biscuits. And we spent the evenings hanging out with the soldiers - easily the best part of the day.

It was like living in a bizarre world where you laughed, played cards and devoured snacks with friends, and hardly noticed the M-16s they kept under their chairs, ready to be called to duty at any moment.

I was also amazed at the diversity of the soldiers. Not only were there new immigrants from Russia and the U. S., but there were Druze and Bedouin soldiers serving on my base too. I had always heard of Arabs serving in the IDF, but it was hard to picture until I saw them serving side by side with the Jewish soldiers.

My 16 years of Hebrew school finally paid off, allowing me to communicate with soldiers from all walks of life, and to hear their stories.

The cold showers, thin mattresses and early mornings seemed like nothing, when I realized that my new friends had been enduring them for months, or even years.

When I left the base for a relaxing weekend on the beach, only a handful of soldiers were lucky enough to join me. For many, it had been weeks since they’d seen their families. One of my closest friends hadn’t seen her boyfriend, an elite combat soldier, in over a month.

As the lush landscape of the north of Israel whizzed by my bus window, I realized that I could never really give back all that the soldiers had done for the country I call my second home.

But I am certainly happy I tried.

I booked my trip to Israel this summer with the goal of participating in a program that would contribute something to the Jewish state. What I never really considered, however, was what that program might give to me, other than a way to meet new people and to keep myself from burning to a crisp on the Tel Aviv beach.

I chose to volunteer for the Israel Defence Forces through the Sar-El Volunteers for Israel program. I was promised two weeks living on a military base with a group of young people from around the world, doing odd jobs while catching a glimpse of the day-to-day life of my Israeli peers.

After completing the Birthright Israel program last summer and becoming friends with the Israeli soldiers on my trip, I felt this would be the perfect way to show how much I appreciated their efforts to protect the homeland.

Early on a Sunday morning in June, I met 12 other Sar-Elniks from as far away as France and Australia and we boarded a bus to the north of Israel to settle into our new home – the base.

As we neared the end of the bus ride, I got excited. I couldn’t wait to make new friends and to be issued the olive-green uniform that so many of my family members had worn.

When we arrived, I was too excited to think twice about the rickety bunk beds and thin mattresses that were standard in our army living quarters. Far from missing my own comfortable bed at home, I was thrilled to be getting a somewhat authentic IDF experience.

The next morning, we began our daily routine of working in nearby outposts fixing camouflage netting, or working in the kitchen, but, as I soon realized, it wasn’t just the work we were doing that made this program important.

In the evenings, when the work was finished and dinner eaten, we had the chance to mingle with the soldiers, including our group leaders, or madrichot. Though I have cousins and friends serving in the IDF, the experience of hanging out with the soldiers on the base was different than anything I had done before.

They were almost always in uniform, half uniform, or toting their weapons on their backs, so it was impossible to forget that our new friends who were laughing and playing games with us were, at the same time, responsible for the safety of the amazing country we were visiting.

As I sat with them, I was overcome by a desire to thank them, to tell them how incredible what they do every day is, even if it doesn’t seem that way to them.

The more time we spent together, the more I thought about how strange it is that my peers in Israel and I lead similar, yet fundamentally different lives. While I might invite my friends to my house to watch a movie over some popcorn, my new friends in Israel invited me to sit outside their barracks over cola and Bamba snacks, just to chat.

I slowly realized that I had taken for granted the work my friends in the IDF do to protect Israel. I had made a separation I my mind between their civilian and army lives, whereas they don’t have the option to make that distinction.

When I stood in line at the flag-raising ceremony on my last day on the base, my uniform thrown on haphazardly in stark contrast to the neat and tidy soldiers, I felt an enormous sense of unity. Watching the blue-and-white flag rise over the morning sun, I was humbled by the dedication of the soldiers, now friends, beside me, and I realized that there was no better way I could have spent my time in Israel.

Michelle Bitran is a fourth-year journalism student at Ryerson University. She plans to pursue a master’s degree in Israel upon her graduation.