As I stood atop Mount Bental on the Golan Heights, a cold wind carried echoes of a restless Syria. I wasn’t just looking across a tense border – I was staring into the heart of a forgotten story. I had come here to understand this region better, but what I found, thanks to my friend and colleague Yair Jablinowitz of Israel Destination, was something far more personal.

Yair, whose connection to the Golan stretches back to his teenage years of hiking and camping the rugged hills, had invited me on a journey to understand this region better. For him, the Golan is not only strategic – it’s sacred, rooted in memory and meaning. He spoke of his childhood adventures, of sleeping under stars that watched over generations of shepherds, soldiers, and seekers. 

Even now, after years of guiding others through Israel’s landscapes, the Golan remains, in his words, one of the most deeply moving places in the country. Hearing his personal stories only deepened my curiosity and anticipation for what I might discover there myself.

Together, we met Lt.-Col. (Res.) Eyal Dror, the man behind Operation Good Neighbor – one of Israel’s most extraordinary yet little-known humanitarian missions. From 2016 to 2018, under his leadership, the IDF conducted over 700 cross-border operations, bringing medical aid, food, and compassion to tens of thousands of Syrians trapped in the horrors of civil war.

Since October 7, my world, like that of many who love Israel, has changed. I may not live in Israel, but my heart is deeply tied to it. That day was not just a terror attack; it was a turning point in some of my “intercultural” friendships.

THE WRITER and Yair Jablinowitz visit Majdal Shams on the Golan Heights, at the border with Syria. ‘Since October 7, my world, like that of many who love Israel, has changed. I may not live in Israel, but my heart is deeply tied to it,’ says the writer. (credit: Courtesy Yair Jablinowitz)
THE WRITER and Yair Jablinowitz visit Majdal Shams on the Golan Heights, at the border with Syria. ‘Since October 7, my world, like that of many who love Israel, has changed. I may not live in Israel, but my heart is deeply tied to it,’ says the writer. (credit: Courtesy Yair Jablinowitz)
AS AN Indian-born German citizen, I had formed meaningful friendships with Syrian refugees in Germany. I felt at home in their warmth, their food, their culture. They even taught me Arabic.

But after the October 7 massacre, these friendships were put to the test. As I mourned the murder of innocent Israeli civilians, some of my Syrian friends celebrated online. As I stood for Israel’s right to defend itself, they invoked the Nakba (“catastrophe”) and praised “resistance.” Friendships I thought could withstand anything suddenly cracked open.

Still, I never gave up hope. I dreamed that one day, I could show them the Israel I knew – the Israel that healed Syrian children in its hospitals and sent baby formula across enemy lines.

When I heard Lt.-Col. Dror speak of compassion and quiet heroism, I realized this was the story they had never been told. And it gave me a renewed purpose: to tell it. That’s why this journey with Yair, and this encounter with Dror, felt so urgent and healing. Here was a story they had never been told – a truth I now had the responsibility to carry.

The Golan opened up more than just vistas: It opened the soul

What struck me most was how Yair saw the Golan – not only as a military buffer zone, but as a spiritual and cultural bridge. In a region shaped by the collapse of the Assad regime and shifting geopolitical winds, he spoke with quiet conviction about the potential for a new kind of peace. One rooted in connection – especially with the Druze community, whose loyalty, heritage, and courage are woven into the fabric of this land.

So, we visited Majdal Shams, a Druze town nestled on the slopes of Mount Hermon where 12 children were killed in a rocket attack in July 2024. Yair, ever the bridge-builder, spoke of the resilience of this community – how they raised their children under the threat of Hezbollah rockets and still chose joy, still chose life. And in that resilience, I saw the spirit of the land itself.

IN ANOTHER memorable moment of the trip, we met Yaakov Selavan, the deputy mayor of the Golan. He didn’t speak like a politician – he spoke like a father. His words weren’t rehearsed: they were rooted. “The Golan isn’t just beautiful,” he said. “It’s vital.” It’s Israel’s first line of defense against Iranian proxies entrenched in Syria and Iraq. When rockets fell last year, the residents here didn’t flee. They stood firm.

We walked through a quiet winery, surrounded by fields that once bore the weight of tanks and soldiers. Today, they yield grapes – planted by people like Shmuel Kopel, a former city-dweller who now fulfills biblical prophecy with each harvest. Yair explained how many who live here once worked as engineers, scientists, or urban professionals. Now, they work the soil and speak of divine presence in every grain of dirt. In the crisp Golan air, over glasses of red and rosé, I tasted something ancient and sacred. This was more than wine: It was testimony.

Perhaps the most overlooked truth about Israel is that compassion doesn’t stop at the border – operation Good Neighbor proved that. And now, with Lt.-Col. Dror’s powerful book Embracing the Enemy, the world might finally come to know this Israel – one that risks its soldiers’ lives to save strangers. An Israel whose humanity breaks through even the most rigid stereotypes. I don’t know if my Syrian friends will ever want to hear this story. But if they do, I’ll be ready.

Yair said something that has stayed with me: “Peace is not the absence of conflict – it’s the presence of people willing to see each other differently.” As we traveled through the rolling vineyards and resilient villages of the Golan, I began to see what he meant. Peace here wasn’t theoretical. It was lived – in the stories of winemakers fulfilling biblical prophecies with every harvest, in families choosing joy over fear even under the shadow of rockets, in a land that breathes history and hope in equal measure.

Yair reminded me why journeys like these matter. “At Israel Destination,” he once told me, “I help people see Israel not just with their eyes, but with their hearts. And the Golan is the perfect place to begin that journey.” I could now see how right he was.

Paushali Lass is a German-Indian writer dedicated to strengthening ties between Israel and the global community. Yair Jablinowitz, an international speaker, advocate for Israel, and IDF reservist works, with Israel Destination, helping bring thousands of visitors to Israel each year. Together, they promote peace and understanding by encouraging honest dialogue and allowing people to see the truth on the ground with their own eyes.