Shai Gross, known to many as “the child from Entebbe,” was hijacked to Entebbe as a child, together with his parents. Now, as the Jewish people mark 50 years since the miraculous rescue operation, Shai says it is important to pay attention to the dates and events that shape our lives. That is why he held a special kiddush of thanksgiving in his home last Shabbat.
For Shai, the occasion was an opportunity to thank God for the life he and his family were given, and to remember the heroism of the soldiers who risked their lives to save them, foremost among them Yoni Netanyahu.
Since October 7, the memories of Entebbe have returned to him with new force. He sees a direct line between the hostages who were held in Entebbe and the hostages who were held in Gaza: people who encountered absolute evil and came to understand that we are on the side of light, of Judaism, of holiness. They endured shattering trauma, yet emerged strengthened and filled with meaning.
This year, Danielle Aloni also joined the gathering. Danielle was kidnapped to Gaza together with her daughter, Emilia, and she shared a message of hope, faith, and resilience.
For Shai, this year was also a moment of closure. A few days ago, he traveled to Entebbe to reconstruct it all. He returned, as an adult, to the old Entebbe airport, where he celebrated his sixth birthday during the hijacking.
And so, Shai says, even more significant than all the official state ceremonies marking 50 years since the operation, his family’s own “Entebbe Shabbat” became a source of strength, especially in these challenging days.
“We remembered how proud and grateful we are to be part of the Jewish people,” he said.
Am Yisrael Chai, even in Trondheim
Renana and Tamar, two Israeli travelers visiting Trondheim, Norway, spent an extraordinary Shabbat in a place where Jewish life is quietly beginning to reawaken.
The synagogue in Trondheim was founded 100 years ago and is considered Europe's northernmost synagogue. The Jewish community there was almost completely destroyed in the Holocaust, but today, people are slowly returning to their Judaism.
Once a month, the entire community gathers for a full Shabbat together, with prayers and meals led by Rabbi Yoav Melchior, Norway's rabbi, who travels there especially for the occasion. One of the biggest challenges is the sun: in Trondheim, at this time of year, it barely sets. The community brings in Shabbat early, and Havdalah is made only on Sunday.
During Shabbat, Renana and Tamar met Ben, a Jew who had grown very distant from Jewish life. After October 7, however, he felt deeply alone, and today he has become one of the community's leaders.
They also met Kelly, who recently decided to begin observing the laws of family purity and going to the mikveh. But because there is no mikveh in Trondheim, she flies each time to Oslo, the capital.
The community is also trying to connect the next generation. That Shabbat, there were seven children in the synagogue, which, for this community, is a large number, and they sang Anim Zemirot at the end of the morning prayers. It was deeply moving.
It was striking to see a large, beautiful synagogue that was almost empty. And yet those who have started coming back sit for hours through the Shabbat prayers with open siddurim. The rabbi and cantor keep announcing which page they are on, and the worshippers make a real effort to follow and participate. They feel they are making progress: just a year ago, many of them did not know how to pray at all. Today, they even have a Zoom class about prayer.
The community members were deeply moved to meet visitors from the Land of Israel. Everyone wanted to speak with Renana and Tamar about Israel, and most of them dream of making Aliyah and living a full Jewish life there.
When Shabbat ended, something especially moving happened. The community members said they would meet again in another month, but then one woman asked what would happen on Rosh Hashanah. They want a minyan. They want a shofar. They need to learn about the holiday.
It is remarkable: while most of us are still in the middle of June, one Jewish woman in Trondheim is already preparing for Rosh Hashanah.
A canceled flight, an open door
This incident took place a few years ago, but it feels especially relevant today, when airport disruptions have become almost a matter of course.
Chezi Adler and his group were in London when their flight back to Israel was suddenly canceled. A canceled flight is never pleasant, but their situation was far more complicated: Chezi was traveling with residents of a hostel for adults with autism - people who need constant care, supervision, and a calm, structured environment. The cancellation came after the group had already checked in, handed over their suitcases, and reached the end of a successful trip.
They stood in the airport with no one to turn to. The airline sent them from place to place, without offering any real solution. As the hours passed, the pressure only grew. For a person on the autism spectrum, functioning in a crowded airport filled with noise, stress, and uncertainty can be extremely difficult.
And then, seemingly out of nowhere, some good people noticed them and began to help. Before long, the group - 13 people in all - found themselves in the Goldberg home. For three days, they were hosted in a spacious home by a family whose hearts were even more spacious. There were comfortable beds, matching linens, large towels, hot falafel waiting for them when they arrived exhausted from the airport, a beautiful Shabbat, and warm support until their new flight on Sunday.
In the haftarah of Parashat Balak this week, we read: “He has told you, O man, what is good, and what God requires of you: only to do justice, to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God.”Chezi was left with one question: Who among us would open our home to strangers with autism? And one more thought: Who ever said the British are cold?
That week, in London, he said, they met the children of Avraham Avinu.
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