‘When I tell Israelis I’m not Jewish but here to help, grown men cry’ by Jamie Shapiro
“The day after October 7 [2023], I saw the people celebrating in Birmingham on Library [Centenary] Square,” says Gordon Biggerstaff, 61, a nurse from North Wales. “They were dancing and they were singing. I have never been so ashamed of my country.”
Biggerstaff says it was at that moment he felt the overwhelming need to help his “Jewish brothers”. “The police and the government did nothing about it and they have done nothing since. I thought, ‘These people don’t represent me’, and I needed to do something about it myself.”
In Israel, three-year military service is mandatory, but in wartime reservists can be called up for service until they are in their 50s. Since the outbreak of the war, more than 300,000 reserves have been called up, having to leave behind their jobs, families and lives.
“Me being there means some Israeli lad can go back to working or studying or being with his family,” Biggerstaff says.
He adds: “Just as in nursing when I want my patient to know that we care, that they matter, I want the people in Israel to know that they are not alone, they are not ignored and there are others in the world who see their pain and are prepared to come into the water even if they cannot swim.”
For the past two years, Israel has been a country gripped with intertwining challenges. It is trying to heal from October 7 while 48 hostages remain in Gaza and the war against Hamas rages on – all while a growing anti-Israel sentiment seemingly spreads across the globe and Israel itself remains split on the conflict.
According to YouGov, since the outbreak of the war against Hamas, public opinion towards the Jewish state has fallen among key European countries, as well as the UK, to its lowest since records began. However, there are some Britons who are going out of their way to help Israel recover.
That has been made possible via Sar-El, an organisation founded in 1982 that allows people from all over the world to volunteer in Israel. Members work within the IDF in non-military logistical roles, but the work they do reaches out into the civilian population.
The programme is run by Leigh Humpage, 64, who is British and Jewish and co-ordinates the volunteers from the UK. She says: “They help with all kinds of things, from painting nurseries to helping to rebuild shattered homes and buildings. One of my volunteers does therapeutic massage for people to help them feel better physically and mentally. Many help out on farms to help with the harvests as so many farm workers have been called up.”
Humpage continues: “One of our Sar-El volunteers is a ‘medical clown’, helping to brighten up the lives of traumatised children. Others are carpenters, teachers and therapists who bring their skills to contribute to rebuilding and healing.”
However, it isn’t just the work that the volunteers do that helps the Israelis; it is the very fact that they are there.
Another volunteer, Keenan Simms, who grew up in South Africa and now lives in London, says: “You walk into a coffee shop in Israel, and you tell people that you’re not Jewish but you’re here to help and you see grown men cry.
“When you go to Israel for the first time as a volunteer, you see their hearts are hurting because they think the world is against them.”
She believes there is an injustice being done to the Israelis. “I’ve got a very strong sense of it, having grown up through apartheid,” she says. “You get a good feeling of the injustices that are done. It just rises up inside you so much that you can’t ignore it, and suddenly you wonder why no one else can see what is going on. It gets to a point where you think, ‘I have to do something about it.’”
Humpage adds: “I went with some volunteers to a street market in Tel Aviv, and the shopkeepers were so delighted to chat with us and for us to spend a few shekels in their shops.
“But it’s not just about the money. Just by being in Israel, expressing support and chatting to Israelis, they feel less besieged and isolated. They know that they are not alone and they are supported. It helps with morale. It’s about love, friendship and human bonds.”
The ongoing war doesn’t just bring a human cost but also an economic one – something Biggerstaff feels he can do his bit towards too. “When I am there,” he says, “I am contributing to the economy. On my weekends I will go down and I will eat food, and I will go to the bars and buy things. It all helps.”
Another volunteer is Naomi Murray, a retiree from Dorset who spends her time at home on her allotment. When she goes to Israel, Murray packs medical kits and rucksacks and has been stationed on the Lebanese border to provide support to troops.
“Really any job that needs to be done that frees up the reserve soldiers, I’ve had a go at and done my best,” she says.
A fellow volunteer who doesn’t want to be named was motivated to help, having witnessed anti-Semitism on a previous visit to neighbouring Lebanon: “I’ve seen it with my own eyes. I was in Lebanon and there were small kids saying Jewish people are dogs. I heard their mother ask the kids: ‘What do you think about the Jews?’ And the kids said: ‘We need to kill the Jews, the Jews are dogs, the Jews are pigs.’”
She believes that if there isn’t international intervention after Hamas is destroyed, to educate the next generation, they will simply grow up to reform the terrorist group.
For some, helping in Israel has come with a cost back home. Simms says her volunteer work has taken a toll on her relationships.
“Since October 7 people have been forced to choose a side. Before, you could agree to disagree and smudge the lines, but now that divide has deepened – even within Israel.
“You see it everywhere, worldwide. You are forced into a place to make a decision – if you’re not for, you’re against, and if you’re not against, you’re for.”
‘I will do what I know is right’
Biggerstaff has also experienced disagreements from people close to him.
“Some say they are pro-Palestinian,” he says. “But they don’t know the history – they don’t want to know the history either. Others have a much simpler view – ‘It’s a faraway country and has got nothing to do with us’ – they don’t want to know.”
Speaking of the work he does in Israel and his passionate views on the need to help the Israelis recover, he says: “The bulk of my brothers and sisters, they don’t understand. They don’t want to know, but they’re not going to say anything against it. Privately, I don’t think they are in favour… but they don’t get any say in the matter.”
Despite what anyone thinks, Biggerstaff will continue to help in Israel.
He says: “I’m self-employed, I don’t need to listen to anyone. I will do what I know is right.”
One of the people Sar-El is indirectly helping through its work is Amit Meirovich from Tel Aviv. He is not a politician, nor an IDF soldier, nor does he have any direct connection to the war against Hamas. What he does have is a normal job in marketing, a young family and a constant worry that the world is turning against his people.
“There is a collective grief in Israel, and we just want to be understood, not judged,” he says.
“Everybody knows somebody who died on October 7. We are struggling to heal, and it is painful and scary as an Israeli to see how hated we have become.”
This difference being made by the volunteers is felt by Meirovich and others like him.
“Without these kind-hearted volunteers,” he says, “it would be impossible not to believe the entire world had turned against us.
“They remind us that as we try to get past the trauma of October 7 and build our lives back, there are some people out there who want us to be able to.”
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