Sometimes, we find ourselves in situations we’ve never faced before, yet we understand them with absolute clarity. This has never been clearer to me than the experience of being at the Tel Aviv airport in Terminal 1, on Sunday, May 4, when a ballistic missile struck just meters from where my son and I were waiting on the check-in line.
I was in Israel for just one week, but it was a week filled with meaning and unforgettable moments. I had the privilege of joining my daughter, Ally, in Efrat for Shabbat during her medical science trip with Yeshivat Frisch. It was one of the most memorable and inspiring Shabbatot I’ve ever experienced. I’m deeply grateful to have shared that special weekend with Ally and her friends, as well as with my longtime friends Sandy Hoenig Yahalom and Tami Elstein and family, who so graciously hosted us.
The Frisch class trip left on Motzei Shabbat, and I stayed overnight in Efrat. Early Sunday morning, I met up with my son, Jeremy, and we left Efrat and headed to the airport for a short domestic flight to Eilat. We were traveling down for two days to visit my uncle, Jev Gollin, who made aliyah 25 years ago at the age of 52 to work for Teva. Years later, he purchased land in a new community called Be’er Ora, just outside Eilat, and in 2014, he built a house on the edge of the Arava desert and made the move south. Our flight was scheduled for 10:30 a.m., and was expected to take just 40 minutes. We were going to be in Eilat before noon. At least that was the plan.
At a little after 9 a.m., the sirens went off and we were all told to get down on the floor. Having experienced sirens in the past, I didn’t think much of it. We followed protocol and stayed low on the ground. There was no real thought given to the actual danger lurking in the sky. Most sirens are no more than a nuisance, at inconvenient times, done by design by the terrorists. Missiles, if any, are usually intercepted and life resumes to normal.
This time at Ben Gurion airport things were different. This time was not a false alarm. This time there was a massive boom. It was so unnatural and yet so real. Even though I have never lived through war, never heard a missile hit the ground, I knew exactly what just happened. I will never in my life forget that sound. In that split second, instinct took over. My body recognized the danger before my mind could catch up. It’s a kind of understanding that doesn’t come from knowledge or experience, but from something deeper, something wired into us. I looked at Jeremy, my eyes wide with danger, and I said “that was a hit.” My fear was that more missiles would be coming. I was keenly aware that sitting on the floor in the airport gave us no protection from the unknown danger.
People in the airport were calm, but we were all in shock. As normal as sirens were, actual missile hits were not at all common and not at the airport. The reality of an actual missile hitting somewhere in the airport vicinity is beyond comprehension. People started asking questions of the young security agent; she could not have been more than 19 years old with her neon yellow cap that read “Bitachon” in Hebrew. And she had no answers. Once the sirens stopped, we were told the airport was closed for the next few hours. Closed meant you cannot leave nor would any planes be flying until they got clearance. The maintenance crew brought out stacks of white plastic chairs, as if to say, “You are here to stay for a while; grab a chair and get comfortable.”
Information was flowing from all media outlets. It was hard to discern exactly what happened and where, but I knew what I heard and I knew what it was and it was close to where we sat. Then, all of a sudden the airline representative announced that flights were resuming and they were continuing the check-in process. No doubt I was fearful to continue my journey, but I moved forward with faith that all would be OK and I still did want to visit my uncle. We boarded Arkia Air and arrived in Eilat safely by 2:30 p.m., only a few hours after our original time. It was amazing how quickly Israel resumed normal activity. I wish all airlines had as much resolve and bitachon as the country itself.
It’s no coincidence that this incident occurred just weeks after major airlines like United, Delta and others resumed flights to Israel. This was clearly a calculated terrorist attack by the Houthis, directly targeting Ben Gurion Airport in order to kill and harm innocent civilian travelers and to create enough fear to force airlines to once again suspend service to Israel. The terrorists reinforced this very point, stating their intent to “impose a comprehensive air blockade” on Israel by “repeatedly targeting airports.” They urged international airlines to cancel all scheduled flights to Israel airports. The message was unmistakable: Their goal was to instill fear, isolate Israel and inflict damage through terror.
The terrorists achieved one of their immediate goals. In response to the threat, several airlines announced the suspension of flights, leaving hundreds of travelers stranded and scrambling to rebook with Israeli carriers like El Al or Arkia. I was among them, originally scheduled to return home with United Airlines, but my flight was canceled. I had to cut my trip short and leave Eilat a day early just to secure a seat on an El Al flight. This chaos wasn’t incidental; it was exactly what the terrorists intended: to disrupt lives, harass and spread fear among the Israeli and Jewish people.
Despite the circumstances, I was grateful for the time I spent in Eilat with my son and my uncle. We walked along the boardwalk, looking out over the Red Sea. With Jordan to our left, Egypt to our right, and in the distance, the faint outline of Saudi Arabia. And just beyond the Saudi mountains lies Yemen, the origin of the missile. Standing there at the edge of the sea, the danger felt distant, almost unreal, as it often does until it strikes close. We said Birkat HaGomel while looking out at the water, filled with gratitude. I have no doubt that Hashem’s hand was at work when the missile landed just meters from Ben Gurion Airport instead of striking it directly. These are the modern-day miracles we talk about and must recognize.
My son Jeremy had just finished his freshman year at College of Charleston in South Carolina, and he came to Israel to visit his friends and just be in Israel. He was supposed to stay on a little longer than I, and his United flight also got canceled. We finally, beH, were able to rebook him on El Al to fly home this week. He was not at all upset to be “stuck” in Israel a little longer than intended.
When we had arrived in Israel on Yom HaZikaron, we experienced the memorial siren during our travel from Ben Gurion Airport to Jerusalem, an incredibly powerful and moving moment. I was looking forward to the celebratory transition into Yom Ha’Atzmaut that evening, only to learn that the festivities had been canceled due to wildfires, which were deliberately started by terrorists. Instead of music and celebration, there was the acrid smell of smoke in the air, and the streets of Ben Yehuda and Machane Yehuda were empty. Some events were moved indoors, but it was heartbreaking and deflating.
Then something amazing happened. By the next day, the fires were under control, and the celebrations resumed. The concerts returned, children were back out in the streets spraying each other with cans of white foam, music filled the air, and people danced and partied into the early hours of Friday morning. They didn’t miss a beat. I fell asleep at 3 a.m., hearing the music from the DJ at the park adjacent to my hotel. It was pure bliss.
In the one week I was blessed to be in Israel, I witnessed a country constantly under threat, wildfires, sirens and missiles. But what stayed with me most wasn’t the danger, it was the resilience. It wasn’t the terror, it was the tenacity. Nothing could shake the Israelis’ will to live, to celebrate and to move forward.
Israelis live under the constant shadow of hostility, harassment and violence. And yet, their ability to bounce back is nothing short of extraordinary. Cancel Yom Ha’Atzmaut celebrations on Wednesday night? No problem. We’ll celebrate even louder on Thursday. Launch a missile toward Ben Gurion? We’ll assess the risk, regroup, and have flights running again with only a brief delay.
This is a country not just determined to survive, but determined to live fully and freely. Am Yisrael Chai.
Kellita Weber earned her BA in journalism from Rutgers University and currently works full-time in sales and marketing within the visual merchandising industry. She writes with a deep connection to Israel, where her heart truly feels at home.
