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A Season of Turning Toward Life

  • Writer: Kirva
    Kirva
  • Aug 25, 2025
  • 3 min read

By Sam Fine

Image description: Blog image with a photo of orange clouds. On top of the image is text that reads: Elul 5785 by Sam Fine.
Image description: Blog image with a photo of orange clouds. On top of the image is text that reads: Elul 5785 by Sam Fine.

We are now in Elul, a month devoted to waking up, reflecting, and taking stock of our lives. Each morning (except on Shabbat), we hear the shofar’s call, a sound that pierces through the noise, urging us to awaken our souls. It invites us to notice where we’ve become numb, complacent, or have fallen short. The shofar offers a container for reckoning: How are we showing up? How are we aligned—or not—with our values and what matters most?


Lately, I’ve struggled with this invitation to reflect and turn inward. Since the murder of Awdah Hathaleen, my heart has been heavy with despair. Awdah was a peace activist, teacher, leader, and storyteller from Umm al-Khair in the West Bank. On Monday morning, July 28th, I got word through networks and friends that Awdah was shot and killed by Israeli settler Yinon Levi while documenting the Israeli army-backed destruction of his village’s only access to water. Levi was quickly released from custody and, if history is any precedent, will face no legal consequences.


I first met Awdah in 2019 on my first Center for Jewish Non-Violence (CJNV) delegation to the region, and again in 2022 on my second visit. Through these encounters, I had the privilege of getting to know this courageous, devoted husband and father of three and his community. Awdah had a way of making you feel like an old friend from the moment you met him, and he left a profound impact on me and how I approach the work for justice.

During my second visit, I stayed the night in Umm al-Khair and slept beneath the stars. Sleeping on the land, under the sky, was something he loved and encouraged, an expression of his deep connection to his land and his people.


That evening, after a shared meal and as the sun set behind us, Awdah began telling a story from his childhood. He spoke of playing soccer as a boy in the small strip of land between Umm al-Khair and the settlement of Carmel. For as long as he could remember, Carmel represented control and oppression. Yet, when children from Carmel wandered over and asked to join, they were welcomed. For a fleeting moment, kids from both sides played together – until an adult from Carmel intervened, ending that fragile glimpse of what might have been.


That story has stayed with me. It was more than a memory; it was proof of what is possible when you invite someone in, even against the harshest realities.


Awdah lived that vision. He became a bridge-builder to Jewish communities, to Israelis, to international activists, to anyone willing to listen. His hospitality was legendary, his commitment unwavering. He documented injustice, told resonant stories, and fought for his people’s rights with love, care, and determination. Despite immense personal loss—his uncle killed by an IDF vehicle, repeated home demolitions, relentless settler violence—Awdah kept choosing connection over bitterness, defiance over despair.


As we enter Elul, a season of teshuvah, of returning to what matters, I find myself asking: How do I honor Awdah’s memory? How do I live out the lessons he taught? The grief feels enormous. The injustice feels insurmountable. How could this happen? How can we allow it to continue, or let his murderer go free with no consequences?


But those questions, as urgent as they are, are not what propel me forward to continue fighting for justice. If anything, they sink me further into despair.


What he put out into the world feels like the very essence of Elul: a turning toward deeply held values, justice, and life. Awdah lived these values every day through strength, relationships, and steadfast hope. So this month, as the shofar calls us awake, I’m listening. I’m listening for the ways I can return—to solidarity, to truth, to bridge-building. To keep choosing, as Awdah did, to reach across the fences of fear and division, and to keep imagining a world where we all belong and live in freedom and dignity.


Teshuvah Workshop, where we will explore Jewish ancestral wisdom and practices that support our collective efforts for justice for all peoples, including Awdah’s family and community.


May Awdah’s memory and teachings continue to build bridges and inspire change.


Chodesh tov,

Sam Fine, Kirva’s Communications and Development Director


Photo taken by an unknown photographer in the spring of 2019. Photo from left to right shows Awdah, Sam, and Elias during the Center for Jewish Nonviolence's spring 2019 Delegation.
Photo taken by an unknown photographer in the spring of 2019. Photo from left to right shows Awdah, Sam, and Elias during the Center for Jewish Nonviolence's spring 2019 Delegation.

 
 
 

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