Ten Years After: The Yom Kippur Rescue That Saved an Israeli Family
Ten years have passed since that Yom Kippur in 2016, and the story still stirs the soul. It was the night Ben-Gurion Airport opened its doors for a matter of life and death, defying the sacred stillness of the holiest day on the Jewish calendar.
The Grinfeld family from Ma'aleh Michmas, a Jewish community northeast of Jerusalem, had set out for the Republic of Georgia during the Tishrei holidays. Noa and Hanoch Grinfeld, along with their four children, Yiftach, Ahinoam, Ivri, and Nevo, sought a budget-friendly adventure filled with hiking in the Caucasus Mountains and visits to the region's vibrant Jewish community with its synagogues and kosher food.
It sounded perfect. But their journey turned into a nightmare on the Abano Pass, one of the world's most notoriously dangerous roads.
What happened to the Grinfeld family in Georgia?
As visibility worsened, Hanoch, then 42, inched the large four-wheel-drive vehicle along at just 10 kilometers per hour. Suddenly, the tires slid off the narrow road, and the jeep tumbled into a ravine 80 meters deep.
When the movement stopped, Hanoch thought he was dead. It was cold, dark, and silent. Near him, Ahinoam, named in memory of his brother Yehuda who was killed in Lebanon, was lifeless. So was Nevo. Then he heard Ivri's voice calling, Abba, Abba!
Yiftach was seriously injured, and Noa could not move her legs. Hanoch crawled up the abyss, pulling himself over a steep wall, and spotted headlights in the distance. In desperation, without a common language, he made the Georgians understand what had happened.
The treacherous rescue began, followed by a grueling 220-kilometer drive over pitted roads to Tbilisi. Georgian doctors and nurses were devoted, but Noa and Yiftach needed the more advanced medical care available in Israel. They urgently needed to get home.
How did an Israeli surgeon save three lives on Yom Kippur?
It was the day before Yom Kippur, and Ben-Gurion Airport had shut down as the holiday approached. Even Israeli rescue services were closed. A resourceful family friend contacted VitalOne, a US medical transport company run by Rabbi Isaac Leider of Monsey, New York. He agreed to undertake the rescue but warned of formidable bureaucratic and diplomatic channels.
They would need permission from the Civil Aviation Authority of Israel, the Airports Authority, the Transport Ministry, and the Prime Minister's Office. They would need two pilots, a medical team, a plane, and 1,000 gallons of fuel. They needed airport staff on Yom Kippur. Ben-Gurion Airport had not been open on Yom Kippur for seven years.
Another major obstacle remained. Noa's cervical spine was detached, and hospital executives in Georgia were unwilling to let her be transferred, concerned she would die on the way to the airport. Her family in Israel sought an orthopedist who could confidently perform the transfer and was willing to fly to the rescue on Yom Kippur eve.
The orthopedist they approached was eating seudat mafseket, the meal before the Yom Kippur fast, with his wife and children in Modi'in when his phone buzzed with WhatsApp images of Noa's neck. Did he know how to transport such a patient? Would he be willing to fly out if the airport were open and other hurdles overcome?
Yes and yes, said the doctor. He promised to take his phone to synagogue, to be available should there be any news.
The call during Kol Nidre
Kol Nidre is traditionally recited three times at the opening of the Yom Kippur evening service. During the second repetition, the surgeon felt his phone vibrate. The flight, he saw, was a go.
He asked a friend to tell his wife, on the other side of the crowded synagogue, that he was leaving. He jogged home to get his car and needed equipment, particularly a kit to stabilize Noa's neck. He called his Russian-born department head to ask what might be needed in the former Soviet Union.
The highway from Modi'in to Hadassah Medical Center in Jerusalem's Ein Kerem had few cars but was filled with bicyclists. When he reached the hospital, he asked for an ambulance to rush him to the airport, where he met the other members of the medical team. The plane took off at 9:58 p.m.
They landed in Tbilisi close to midnight. The Israeli Consulate arranged an ambulance to take them to the injured family. Hanoch and Ivri had light injuries. The doctor stabilized Noa's neck and then asked to see Yiftach, the seriously injured boy, across town in a children's hospital.
The Israeli doctor was distressed by the treatment Yiftach was receiving for a complex fracture and insisted it be changed immediately. The Georgian doctor said he was unfamiliar with the proposed treatment and that the Israeli doctor would have to take responsibility.
Isn't that why I've come? asked the Sabra doctor, who took charge.
After five hours on the ground, the team and patients took off.
Zionist pride at Hadassah Hospital
I was worried that it would be hard to gather the staff on Yom Kippur, the doctor said. Surgery was urgent. But what he found brought relief and a swelling of Zionist pride.
Some of the medical staff had walked to Ein Kerem. Others came by bicycle. Ambulances had worked overtime bringing still others.
What a beautiful sight to see everyone waiting for the patients, he said.
I know all these details because the orthopedic surgeon is my son, Prof. Josh Schroeder, now the head of Hadassah's Spine Unit.
To mark the 10th anniversary, he received a thank-you note from Noa's family for being among the many good people who took part in this extraordinary rescue. The update included the happy news that Yiftach, who had the complex fracture, had recently married.
On that Yom Kippur, they operated all day. When they finished, the final prayers were being chanted in the hospital's Abbell Synagogue under the Chagall Windows.
Avinu Malkeinu, shlah refuah shleimah l'holei amecha... Our Father, Our King, send complete recovery to the sick among Your people. And the last: Be gracious to us and answer us, though we have no worthy deeds...
I once asked Josh why he had taken part in this mission on Yom Kippur. He said he didn't understand my question. Would he or any Israeli doctor ever give up the privilege of helping to secure a place for a patient in the Book of Life on Yom Kippur?
Chag sameach!
The writer is the Israel director of public relations at Hadassah, the Women's Zionist Organization of America. Her latest book is A Daughter of Many Mothers.