Israel’s future is being built in its communities

People have asked me countless times since returning from Israel: “How is Israel? How are people coping?”

I never quite know how to answer.

Because there isn’t one Israel.

There are millions of individual stories that sum up Israel. Some of grief, resilience, exhaustion, determination and hope and they all exist simultaneously.

My recent visit last month was my fourth since October 7, and perhaps the most emotional yet. It wasn’t because I witnessed more destruction. In many ways, it was because I witnessed something far more powerful: life beginning to return.

Every person I met carried the weight of the past 30 months differently, and every JNF project I visited, I could see the tangible change we have been able to create to the people on the ground.

Some had lost family members. Others had lost friends, homes or businesses. Emergency responders spoke of the horrors they had witnessed. Families were still living with displacement and uncertainty. Entire communities continue to rebuild lives that changed forever.

Yet despite these tragedies, one quality seemed to unite almost everyone I encountered.

A quiet but unwavering belief in a better tomorrow.

No one is pretending life is easy or that trauma has disappeared. Rather, it is a deeply rooted belief that this country is worth rebuilding, that their communities are worth returning to, and that the future is still theirs to shape.

That belief revealed itself in unexpected places.

At Hazit Habayit, a volunteer-run centre helping families who have lost everything, people arrive looking for beds, tables and kitchen utensils. But one volunteer proudly showed me the library and art corner he had created.

He told me that furniture helps people survive. Books and art help people begin living again.

It was one of the simplest yet most profound observations of the trip.

This journey also felt like completing a circle.

When I first visited Israel after October 7, many of the communities along both the northern and southern borders were destroyed and some, deserted. The silence was interrupted only by the distant sounds of active war. Farmers returned briefly to tend crops or feed livestock before leaving again and entire kibbutzim stood empty, waiting for their people to return.

The country begged for normality, with time the main element standing in its way.

Each subsequent visit brought small signs of life returning.

And this time, almost every southern community had come home, and their new normal had begun to resume.

In Kibbutz Magen, I attended the opening of a new children’s resilience centre supported by JNF, complete with sensory rooms for children with special needs. As children’s laughter echoed through the building, I realised something profound.

These communities are coming back.

Not because the pain has disappeared, but because life insists on continuing, and nothing is stopping these communities from resuming their lives in the places that they call home. These families are our families, and the pride I felt standing at the opening of the Kibbutz Magen Resilience Centre, knowing that our JNF Australia community helped make their dreams become a reality, filled me with enormous pride both personally and professionally.

As we continued our visit to more JNF projects which included the once destroyed and broken community of Kibbutz Be’eri, I met with a resident in front of a backdrop of excavators which had demolished what remained of his home, where he proudly exclaimed that he and his family will once again walk the paths of the kibbutz because this is “our home”.

It was impossible not to be moved.

If Israel’s future rests anywhere, however, I left believing it rests with its young people.

I met remarkable young women studying science, engineering and technology through JNF-supported scholarships as part of the Atidim program. Many are the first in their families to attend university. They are changing expectations for entire communities.

I also visited Adam v’Adama, an agricultural boarding school where teenagers rise before dawn to work alongside farmers before spending the rest of the day completing a full academic curriculum.

Their commitment was extraordinary. They spoke about shared responsibility in their commitment to helping strengthen Israel’s border communities through agriculture and service.

It reminded me that resilience is not simply enduring hardship. It is choosing, every single day, to invest in the future.

I also had the privilege of visiting a number of the JNF funded innovation centres, which are committed to supporting research and innovation to address local and global challenges, from water management, food security and agriculture to climate resilience and medical technology, while simultaneously creating job opportunities, economic and employment growth in Israel’s periphery.

These investments are about ensuring that Israel’s border communities remain vibrant places where families choose to build their futures.

While the impact of our supporters is broad and profound, our work is not done.

Rebuilding homes and schools is essential, but this alone does not restore stability or guarantee recovery. Restoring mental wellbeing, community connection and resilience remain a priority. That is why investments in mental health and long-term community support are every bit as important as bricks and mortar.

I returned home inspired – not because Israel has overcome its challenges, but because I witnessed a country refusing to surrender to them. The Israel I encountered was not defined solely by October 7. It was defined by what its people have chosen to do since. This should be our greatest source of hope and strength.

Doron Lazarus is the CEO of JNF Australia.