Chen G. Schimmel is an Israeli photojournalist whose documentation of October 7th and the months that followed has become an important visual record. This series includes excerpts from her first book, October 7th | Bearing Witness, which creates a visual and written account of the first year after the attacks.
Proceeds go to the SUMMIT Institute for Trauma and Post-Trauma Recovery. For more information: https://www.chengschimmel.com/
Books have always been at the heart of Jewish life, none more so than the Torah. It shapes who we are, guides us in right and wrong, and anchors our traditions. We treat the Torah like a living soul. We stand when it’s carried, we kiss it in reverence, and when it’s damaged, we bury it like we would a person, with dignity.
On Simchat Torah, we usually come together to rejoice, celebrating as we complete the Torah reading and begin it anew. It’s a day filled with song and dance, the scroll lifted high in our hands. But on October 7th, 2023, that joy turned to horror. As Jews prepared to celebrate, Palestinian terrorists attacked southern Israel, killing over a thousand civilians and kidnapping hundreds.
For those of us in ZAKA, that day became a call to sacred duty. I was down south from the first hour, overseeing operations. On that first day alone, I picked up 74 bodies, loading them onto my truck. Each body was a life, each life a story. We in ZAKA are ordinary people – carpenters, teachers, shopkeepers, bus drivers – yet this work has brought us together, bound by a sense of responsibility to our people.
Every room had been transformed into a scene of devastation. Kibbutz Be’eri, once filled with life and laughter, had become a place of unimaginable loss. We moved through each space, gathering not just the bodies but the clothes, the personal items, and the blood itself – the fragments of lives once whole. Each item we collect, including every drop of blood scraped from the floor, is buried alongside the dead. To us, every trace is sacred, treated with the same reverence as the person it belonged to.
In a world that had seemed to turn upside down, we were restoring dignity, honoring life as the Torah commands. We do this in response to an enemy that glorifies death; we uphold life with reverence. Every collected drop, every careful, respectful touch, is a testament to our belief in the sanctity of life.
Sometimes, I wonder how we manage to continue. We’re ordinary people thrust into something far beyond ourselves. There is no training, no preparation that could prepare you to face such darkness. But we are not just collecting bodies; we are bringing them home. We are saying to each soul, “You mattered, and you will be laid to rest with dignity.” It is a labor of love and sorrow, a final act of chesed, kindness, for those who cannot repay it.
Every effort we make to honour those lost is a declaration of the value of life itself. Even amidst the deepest grief, it’s an act of resistance, a way of holding fast to our belief in the sanctity of life. And though our hearts are broken, we continue, knowing that each life we lay to rest is a testament to this unbreakable belief. In honouring them, we are bound together, ordinary people carrying out the highest command: to honour the dead, to uphold the dignity of life, and to never let go of our humanity.
Simcha Greiniman, ZAKA International Spokesperson. One of the first volunteers to respond on October 7th, Simcha led ZAKA's work collecting every trace of the victims' remains, ensuring they could be buried with dignity.