Turning the Tide on Trauma

One can only imagine the terror that the children went through that day as they heard, saw, and smelled their home – and world - being destroyed around them. 

Miraculously, Sa’ar and his immediate family survived. But the trauma did not end when the gunfire stopped. Since that day, they have lived in temporary housing southwest of Jerusalem. Like hundreds of children from Israel’s Gaza border region, Sa’ar carries memories no child should. His home is still off-limits. His childhood was ruptured. 

Recently, Sa’ar was one of 14 children from Nir Oz who took part in a special resilience workshop at The Sea Museum in Kibbutz Palmachim, a heritage site supported by Jewish National Fund-USA 

The museum, perched on a Mediterranean cliff, houses rare archaeological finds – artifacts fished from the sea or discovered along the coast that tell the story of ancient civilizations and maritime trade. But since the horrors of October 7, the musuem has transformed into something more than a cultural institution. With its unique setting, experienced team, and heritage content that connects to Jewish continuity, it has become a place of refuge, memory, and healing. 

The workshop was part of a heritage site-related resilience program, supported by Jewish National Fund–USA. Since the massacre, Jewish National Fund-USA has invested in a nationwide network of trauma-informed activities that has already benefitted over 250,000 Israelis. 

The initiative is one of dozens of specialized programs designed to support emotional healing through nature, education, and heritage. 

“The museum sees this work as a mission,” says Noga Efraim, one of the program leaders and manager of the museum, who led the group from Nir Oz. “We’ve made it our guiding principle to leave the walls of the museum and bring meaning and healing into the world.” 

This shift in purpose, she explains, was inspired in part by the Tel Aviv Museum of Art’s support for hostage families and solidarity gatherings at Hostages Square. “Instead of closing off or staying neutral, the museum chose to stand with the community – offering access to restrooms, air-conditioning, and even placing art installations outside for those holding vigil. We saw that and understood: a museum can – and should – respond to national trauma.” 

“[Our museum], too, could offer something unique in this moment – not only artifacts of ancient resilience, but an active space for present-day healing.” 

“They were curious, attentive, and already came with impressive knowledge about topics like sea turtles and the Sorek River,” said Noga. “It was clear they were eager for the sea activity – but they also engaged beautifully with the museum’s stories and space.” 

The session included 30 minutes in the museum, followed by two and a half hours of sea-based activities, and lunch at a cafe on the beach – reopened in memory of a beloved member of the kibbutz.  

On the beach, the instructors guided the children through group paddling, therapeutic games, and resilience-building exercises in the sea. There were nervous glances at first – but they quickly gave way to shrieks of joy as the children stepped into the waves. Laughter echoed across the shoreline as they splashed, paddled, and pulled together like a team. 

There was more than just fun in the water. These carefully designed activities aimed to help the children confront fear, build confidence, and rediscover a sense of agency. Watching them work together to balance their rafts, cheer each other on, and help those who hesitated was witnessing resilience in motion. 

Ido Rom, a social worker and Ziv Neurim instructor at Palmachim, recalled one boy who froze as the group moved into the water. “He just turned back and walked out. But then we talked, gently invited him back in, and when he rejoined, something shifted. You could see the moment when trust returned to his eyes.” 

This sentiment was echoed by Neta Rabi, a Jewish National Fund-USA-supported social worker who has accompanied Nir Oz families through evacuation, relocation, and grief. “Just getting in the water together, facing a wave and realizing they can float, they can breathe, they can laugh again – that’s huge. That’s healing.” 

For some children, the day’s most transformative moment came not from paddling or even the warm camaraderie – but from a return to something that felt like agency. 

Sa’ar, reflecting on the experience afterward, said, “It was awesome – way more fun than I expected. We went deeper into the water than I thought they’d take us. Paddling together made us feel more connected.” 

The museum’s approach deliberately blends emotion and heritage. 

“The archaeology displayed here in the museum reminds us that people lived here thousands of years ago – suffered, rebuilt, kept going, and survived,” said Noga. “It strengthens something inside. It reminds us that we come from survivors.” 

Since launching the “By Way of the Sea” exhibit, the museum has hosted a wide range of participants – including displaced communities like Gvar’am, bereaved parents, reserve soldiers, and year-round groups of at-risk youth – each benefiting from the combined power of archaeology, links to the land and sea, nature, and compassionate guidance. 

“There’s no doubt that similar groups – especially those who experienced the trauma of October 7 – can benefit tremendously from workshops like these,” Noga emphasized. “The sea builds resilience. It restores a sense of self. It teaches us how to trust again. And archaeology adds something deep: the knowledge that people were here before us, they endured, and they passed something on. That sense of continuity is healing in itself.”