Naama Levit
Metula – The northernmost village in Israel
“On October 7th, we spent ‘Simchat Torah’ holiday in Even Menachem, a small community in the western Galilee in northern Israel. That Shabbat, I had planned to go to synagogue to celebrate the holiday, but my plans quickly changed. Around 6:30 in the morning, the first news reports began to emerge about a missile attack in the south of Israel. As someone who observes Shabbat, I wasn’t following the media or social networks, but I could feel the growing commotion around me as people started talking about the attack.
The moment it truly hit me – that this wasn’t just another missile attack, we had sadly grown accustomed to – was when I saw the videos. The horrifying footage showed terrorists infiltrating communities, massacring people, and abducting them into Gaza. As we began to grasp the gravity of the situation, there was growing fear of possible invasion along the northern border as well. In my hometown of Metula, the highest state of alert was immediately declared. I wasn’t too afraid. I packed the suitcases for myself and my husband, who is part of the town’s security team, and we headed from the western Galilee, straight home – to the northernmost point of Israel.
That same day, hundreds of thousands of reservists were called up and deployed across Israel’s borders, with tens of thousands stationed in the north. In the week following October 7th, I remained in Metula and refused to leave my home. In fact, I was one of the last civilians to evacuate the town. It was only after intense pressure from my children and family that I agreed to leave for the weekend to visit them in central Israel.
That weekend, the official evacuation order came for all residents of the northern border communities, moving them into hotels. I told myself, Fine, we’ll go to a hotel and return home as soon as possible. I’ve always been someone who tries to find the silver lining in every situation, so I thought perhaps this would even be a unifying and strengthening experience for our community. Maybe, in some way, something positive would come out of this.
I ended up staying in a hotel in Tiberias for a month and a half before deciding to move to a rented apartment in Givat Avni with my youngest child. I needed space. I needed privacy – something I had completely lost while living in a hotel. At first, it felt a bit like an extended vacation, but that feeling quickly faded.
For over a year, I was torn between hope and despair. My heart ached seeing my beautiful hometown turn into a ghost town. And yet, I never lost hope. I counted down the days until I could return home.
Now, one year and three months after our evacuation, I am finally back. I am rebuilding my home, renovating after more than a year away. As a staff member of Metula’s community center, I am also working to rebuild our town’s communal life as well.
I am filled with optimism and confidence that from this deep crisis, we will rise, grow, and flourish even more than before. For me, despair is never an option. Hope and light will always shine brighter than any darkness.”