Rerouted to Cyprus

Here in Cyprus, surrounded by people who used to be strangers, none of us is an island.

We were 10 minutes away from landing in Tel Aviv when a surprising announcement upended all our expectations.

“Due to a security situation, we were ordered to reroute this airplane to Cyprus. Please understand that we don’t know anything else at this point. Please be patient, and we will let you know once we find out more.”

Short sentences. Honestly? Terrifying sentences. Yet what they achieved was remarkable.

Within less than a minute, they gathered all of us — Israelis and non-Israelis, religious and secular, Jews and Arab — and turned us into one big family. For the next several hours of confusion, everyone on the plane was looking out for everyone else.

The crew set out toys for the kids in the back of the airplane, transforming that none-too-inviting space into an impromptu play area. Passengers loaned phones to one another. A young American woman opened a hot spot for half the plane, generously burning through her mobile data for the rest of us. I found myself in the unlikely position of guiding other passengers through the best way to purchase a local sim (if you knew me personally, you would appreciate the absurdity. The credit goes to my wonderful husband, who, after taking the kids to and from the bomb shelter in my absence, threw himself into helping me manage the situation from afar well before I even realized I would need means of communication).

People offered food and hugs and words of encouragement to whoever needed them. Some passengers took it upon themselves to help the flight attendant so she could catch her breath for a moment. Whoever got their phones to work performed the profound kindness of sharing the news from Israel with everyone else.

This outpouring of mutual support didn’t end once the captain informed us that we should disembark, find accommodations, and wait for future developments. Strangers helped each other search for places to stay, buy the right adapters and carry heavy bags. A group of young Israeli men helped me get on the bus toward city center, jovially acknowledging that they weren’t sure where it went, but “don’t worry, we will figure it all out together!”

Another Israeli noticed me walking alone in the street later and went out of his way to make sure I was safe. The Starbucks where I’m currently writing is filled with Israelis speaking about the situation in Hebrew and Arabic, offering each other commiseration and advice.

This outpouring of kindness was not limited to the “stranded” population either. Since we left the plane, I have been inundated with invitations, offers of assistance and kind words from local Jews — from the Chabad rabbi and rebbitzen to friends of friends, to total strangers.

I have no idea how long I will be on this island.

I miss my family, and I desperately want to be with them, to be home.

But here in Cyprus, surrounded by people who used to be strangers, none of us is an island.

I am surrounded by my people, and they are family too.

We are in it together, wherever we are.

May we all be safe, and strong, and successful.

Am Israel Chai. PJC

Rachel Sharansky Danziger is a Jerusalem-born writer and educator. She writes about Judaism, history and life in Israel for the Times of Israel and other online venues, and explores storytelling in the Hebrew Bible as a teacher in Matan, Maayan, Torah in Motion and Pardes. This article first appeared on The Times of Israel.