Recently, my friends and I joined Marcy Charish to pick loquat fruit for an Israeli farmer in dire need of volunteers. Her story serves as an incredible inspiration for all of us.

Marcy was born in Woodmere, New York. She is a graduate of HAFTR, Barnard College and NYU and was an occupational therapist for many years in the states. Marcy switched gears after making aliyah and became a docent at Yad Vashem Holocaust Museum. She is married to Michael, and together they have six children ranging in age from 15-28.

Marcy’s Story: In Her Own Words

I studied at Michlalah Seminary in Jerusalem during the Persian Gulf War of 1991. Most of the American gap-year students left Israel and returned to the U.S. during the war. I stayed. My experience in Israel that year made it clear to me that one day I would return to live here.

Michael and I talked about aliyah when we were dating and that moving to Israel was our long-term plan. After getting married, we immersed ourselves in building our family, building our careers and being involved in our communities in Riverdale and Teaneck. We rarely talked about aliyah plans but we knew that our goal was to make it to the Promised Land.

In 2006, when our oldest child turned 10, we decided to make our move. Leaving our parents, siblings, friends, jobs and community was a sacrifice. But we cast our lot with our nation in Israel. We moved to Chashmonaim and we have been here since.”

Before October 7

For the past 10 years, I have been giving English tours in Yad Vashem to educational groups and families. Working at Yad Vashem has provided me with a balance between important, meaningful work and flexibility in my family life. It has truly been an incredible experience and I see myself as being able to impact visitors’ understanding of the Holocaust and its significance in modern-day Israel.

Volunteering During the War

After the war broke out on Oct. 7, people in Israel were in shock yet there was an urgency to contribute to the war effort and help in any way. Reserve soldiers (miluimnikim), including my 25-year-old son Moshe, were called up for army service in the war. Grandparents babysat for their grandchildren while their sons and daughters fought in the war. People baked for soldiers; cooked for soldiers; made tzitzit for soldiers; raised funds for equipment for soldiers; did laundry for soldiers. People even stocked shelves at supermarkets to help in any capacity they were able.

In this upheaval, the need for volunteering and helping was everywhere.

Nearly all tourism in Israel came to a standstill. There were no tours to give at Yad Vashem. I could no longer contribute to the Jewish people and the State of Israel at the museum.

I felt a calling. I baked challot for soldiers. I made tzitzit daily. I took shifts in Chashmonaim’s 24/7 security war room. But I felt a need to fill all of my time actively contributing so that I wouldn’t be consumed by anxiety and worry, and so that I could feel like I was giving my all to the war effort.

Israeli Agriculture in Crisis

Israeli agriculture has depended on foreign labor from places like Thailand and even Gaza. Once the war began, Israeli farmers were left nearly helpless, with no workers in their fields or packing houses. Many of the farmers themselves were called into the fight.

The crisis was exacerbated by Hamas’s agricultural terrorism. Hamas intentionally assaulted watering systems, crops, greenhouses and milking facilities to damage Israel’s infrastructure, food supply and the Jewish people’s proud ties to its land.

Farmers appealed to the public for help. I recall one farmer posting a video of himself standing in his field showing beautiful lettuce of all different types that were ready to be picked but would rot unless people came to help. WhatsApp and Facebook groups formed to connect volunteers with farmers in need.

The desperate call for help emanating from Israel’s farms spoke to me. I love the outdoors. I love nature. I grew up visiting farms and picking fruits and vegetables. I felt like I could not only help individual farm families save their farms and livelihoods but also help the greater Israeli economy by joining the effort to keep supermarket shelves stocked, local prices down and exports flowing.

My Time on the Farm

It all started with pomegranates. One morning, three weeks into the war, I peeled myself out of bed to get to a pomegranate orchard in Kibbutz Revadim by 7:30 a.m. It was a blazing hot day. I joined a group of volunteers. A farmer gave each of us gloves, shears, a sack and instructions.

By the time the day was over, I had fallen in love with farming. I was under sunny blue skies; working with my hands; getting a workout tasting delectable fruit; gaining the satisfaction of filling bin after bin with the fruit of the land of Israel; meeting fellow volunteers from different walks of life, all over Israel; and seeing the senses of appreciation, gratitude, relief, joy and hope on the farmers’ faces.

Since that first day, I have dedicated myself to farming, volunteering an average of three-five times a week. I have picked lettuce, tomatoes, cucumbers, avocados, zucchini, cauliflower, eggplant, olives, clementines, peaches, grapefruits, lemons, oranges, loquats, persimmons and strawberries. I have packaged celery root, herbs, chili peppers and arugula. And I have worked in chicken coops gathering eggs. My sister Stefanie has been my steadfast picking partner. I have also brought along my children, my siblings, my in-laws and my friends.

My farm work has given me a newfound appreciation for the wonderment of Hashem’s bounty. I feel like I give a little wink to the fruits and vegetables at Rami Levi Supermarket. I knew them when.

My Most Emotional Farm Experience

During the winter months, when it was raining outside, I spent many days sorting and packaging avocados for export. This task took on transcendent meaning for me when the manager of the packaging plant told us that the avocados were from Kibbutz Be’eri. Immediately, the avocados became kadosh, holy, in my eyes. Amidst devastating destruction, the land was still able to bear beautiful fruit. These avocados symbolized for me Jewish resilience and renewal. I saw myself as part of a chain of fulfillment, purpose, growth and healing.

I feel blessed to be able to raise my family in the land of Israel.The past 14 months have been painful and challenging, yet awe-inspiring. I am humbled and profoundly grateful that I have merited to play a small part in helping the land and the people I love so much.

Esti Rosen Snukal is an experienced special-ed teacher turned chocolatier. She is a mom of four boys and adopted mom of a lone Israeli soldier. Esti made aliyah with her husband Hershey four years ago from Teaneck to Chashmonayim and has documented many of her Israeli adventures and highlights on her Facebook page. Esti can be reached at [email protected].