One incredible woman: Yifat Goddard
I have been trying to find the words to send from Israel.
It started with another delegation.
A group of Maori Leaders from New Zealand who were willing to get on a plane and come and see Israel for themselves.
Some of them arrived with very negative views of Israel. They had heard the headlines, followed the news, and carried with them many of the perceptions that have become so common in New Zealand.
And then they arrived.
We travelled.
We learned about thousands of years of history and about a tiny country constantly reinventing its future. We saw innovation, resilience and extraordinary diversity.
We met Israelis from different backgrounds and communities.
We met survivors of the Nova festival.
We met families of hostages.
We visited the Bibas family home.
We listened to stories that are almost impossible to hear and even harder to forget.
There were long days, late nights, endless driving, phone calls, changes of plans, logistics, exhaustion, laughter, tears, difficult conversations and moments I know I will carry with me for the rest of my life.
And slowly, something happened.
People began to see Israel differently.
Not because someone told them what to think, but because they were there.
They met the people.
They listened.
They asked questions.
They saw a country that was far more complicated, human and alive than the version they had been given from thousands of kilometres away.
Then, in the middle of our journey, the New Zealand media turned its attention towards us.
Suddenly, we weren't simply travelling and learning anymore.
We became the story.
The coverage created enormous pressure and tension during an already intense journey. And since making the courageous decision to come to Israel, members of the delegation and myself have faced anger, abuse and death threats.
Whatever someone's politics, nobody should face threats for choosing to travel, listen and see something with their own eyes.
When the delegation left, I stayed.
There is something about this country that I struggle to explain.
Israel is filled with an extraordinary joy for life and, at the same time, an extraordinary amount of pain.
People dance while carrying grief.
They laugh loudly while worrying about someone they love.
They argue, hug, celebrate, mourn, eat, sing and somehow keep living.
Pain and joy exist next to each other there in a way I have never felt anywhere else, and I sure travelled the world.
The hatred of the past few years has changed something in me. The threats, the hostility and the feeling that being openly Israeli can make you a target have taken their toll.
And I find myself asking questions I never expected to be asking.
Does continuing to advocate in NZ actually make a difference?
How many conversations can we have before we accept that words alone may not be enough?
I don't have the answers yet.
But this journey made me certain about one thing.
I want to keep bringing people to Israel.
Because I watched what happened when people stopped experiencing Israel through headlines and started experiencing it through human beings.
I watched people arrive with one understanding and leave with another.
Not because they were instructed what to believe, but because they had seen more, heard more and met people they would never otherwise have met.
That matters to me.
So perhaps this is where the next chapter begins.
More people.
More delegations.
More difficult conversations.
More opportunities to sit across from one another instead of shouting at one another from opposite sides of the world.
I want to bring people who are curious.
I want to bring people who disagree.
I want to bring people who have questions.
And I want Israel itself — its history, its people, its innovation, its grief, its contradictions and its incredible love of life — to be part of the conversation.
Maybe my role isn't to keep trying to explain Israel from New Zealand.
Maybe my role is simply to say:
Come.
I'll take you there.
See it for yourself!
Yifat Goddard
Follow Yifat on Facebook. @yifat.goddard
