From Jerusalem to Sderot

The best remedy for those who are afraid, lonely or unhappy is to go outside, somewhere where they can be quiet, alone with the heavens, nature and God. Because only then does one feel that all is as it should be and that God wishes to see people happy, amidst the simple beauty of nature.
- Anne Frank

This past Monday I took a vacation day and had the opportunity to ride my bike from Jerusalem to Sderot as part of a solidarity ride with the residents of Sderot organized by OneFamily Fund. The plight of the residents of Sderot is a cause that is close to my heart and something I care quite deeply about.The ride itself included a hodgepodge group of approximately 90 participants ranging from competitive cyclists to families to some folks who looked as if they hadn’t been pedaling anything with wheels for quite some time.

We were joined on the ride by victims of terror in Israel, including three young people who lost both parents in terrorist attacks. While not everyone was able to complete the ride on his or her bike, vehicles stayed at the end of our entourage and picked up stragglers so everyone was reunited in Sderot.

I was certainly among those moaning and groaning about the late start and also the frequent and lengthy breaks at the beginning of the ride, but the timing ended up being such that we arrived in Sderot against a dramatic foreground of orange, red, and gold as the sun set and I was grateful for the colorful sky along with cool early evening air that ushered in our arrival to Sderot. In addition, by the last 40km of the ride, when we really got going without frequent stops, we spread out, and I enjoyed the freedom and solitude of the open stretch of road, which provided some nice alone time to enjoy the beauty of the land and get lost inside my head.

It was interesting to see the change in the topography of the land as the ride passed on, from the slow, long, curving hills of Jerusalem to the quick, steep up and down and long areas of flat terrain through Kiryat Gat and Sderot. The first part of the ride afforded dramatic, panoramic views of hills and yishuvim while the second half of the ride consisted mostly of open fields turned golden and brown by the dry summer heat and undeveloped land. 

When we arrived in Sderot we had a festive meal of Middle Eastern fare at a local restaurant and then proceeded to the yeshiva, where we were greeted by over a hundred Sderot residents for a Simchat Bet Hashoeva.

The residents of Sderot have been living in constant terror among a barrage of daily Kassam rocket attacks that receive little attention from both the government and the international media. The reason for this is two-fold: the rockets are rudimentary and highly inaccurate so they rarely kill, but instead maim with shrapnel, which is not considered very newsworthy. In addition, the residents of Sderot are mainly poor Russian and Ethiopian immigrants with little political clout. In other words, more often than not, the forgotten ones.

The festivities included music, singing, dancing, and in my opinion, a really bad comedian who kept making stupid jokes about Americans. It was funny (and also a little awkward) to be singing and dancing in the yeshiva still in my cycling clothes with my Camelbak.

Overall, it was a very uplifting day but I look forward to the day when we don’t need to ride to Sderot for solidarity and we can just do it for fun. As one of my fellow cyclists commented while being interviewed when asked why he was doing the ride, “Because we are Sderot and Sderot is us.” I couldn’t have said it better myself. Now if only our government and the international community could appreciate this.

In the moments that the sun set directly upon our cycling envoy and cast a glow over the land, before night fell, I pedaled alone on the shoulder of highway leading to Sderot through the thick silence of dusk. No sirens, no Kassams, just the rhythmic sound of the turn of my pedals and the rotation of my chain. I could see a few cyclists ascending the hill in front of me and if I turned my head I could see a few colorful dots behind. I was in a complete state of peace in what some consider a war zone, but how could I not be? I knew that even in Sderot, as my fellow cyclist implied, we are still home.