‘We will dance again’: Survivor of Israeli music festival targeted by Hamas tells her story
Noa Beer remembers the person she was at 6:28 a.m. on Oct. 7, 2023, and the person she was one life-changing minute later.
At 6:28 a.m., Beer was a booking agent escorting a Hungarian DJ around the Nova Music Festival in Re'im, Israel. Earlier, she'd bought a beer at the bar, clinked glasses, and toasted their good fortune and the music that had brought so much joy to so many.
The sun was coming up over the desert. And she was among the roughly 3,500 people who danced ecstatically, feeling the early morning heat on their faces.
At 6:29 a.m., she ran onstage and sounded the alarm: There was a missile attack. At first, she thought it was like any of the other missile attacks that are an unfortunate fact of life for Israelis.
It wasn't. It was the opening wave of a savage sneak attack by the terrorist group Hamas that eventually would leave 410 revelers dead, and more taken hostage.
By day's end, 1,200 would be dead and 251 taken hostage and brought across the border into Hamas-controlled Gaza.
After two years of war and tens of thousands of Palestinian deaths, it's believed that 48 people are still being held captive in Gaza, with only 20 of them thought to be alive, according to CBS News . A peace deal that could end the conflict is now on the table.
But before that, there are the memories.
"The distance between the joy of 6:28 in the morning, and 6:29, the fear, the screaming, and then later on during the day, for hours and hours, and days and days, and weeks after ... we were looking for our friends, still hoping that maybe they could be alive," Beer recalled.
Beer was in Boston for Tuesday's second anniversary of the conflict, as she attended a traveling exhibit, "Oct. 7, 6:29: The Moment the Music Stood Still " that tells the stories of the survivors and the slain at the festival through a mix of artifacts, videos and testimonials.
"We'll never be the same," she said. "I mean, today, waking up in the morning, you'd think it gets easier, and it doesn't."
The traveling exhibition, which was backed by charitable donations from Boston area residents, the region's large Jewish community, foundations and others, opened on Sept. 26 and runs through Oct. 21.
It's housed in a cavernous space in the former FW Webb building on Dorchester Avenue.
Philanthropist Dan Kraft, who helped bring the exhibition to Boston, told MassLive that he and his wife Wendy had "gotten to know some of the survivors ... through previous trips they had made to Boston. And we were just blown away by their strength, their courage, [and] their resilience."
"And you know, if I would have one ask, it would be to get as many people as we can here to bear witness before Oct. 21 when it leaves," Kraft, a son of New England Patriots owner Robert Kraft, said. "And again, regardless of what your thoughts are, just come in with an open mind. Bear witness. There's a lot of narratives out there. I don't know how you can walk in ... and regardless of what side you're on, not feel what these kids went through."
When they enter, visitors are greeted by a video montage of survivors setting the stage, reflecting on a day full of hope and unity found in the shared joy of music.
"Nova was very beautiful, it was built from love," Omri Kohavi, a founding organizer of the Tribe of Nova, the group that put on the music festival, and who now aids in the healing of survivors, remarks in the video.
Another festivalgoer offers their memory.
"Sunrise at a festival is the greatest moment," they recalled. "There's only music and the sun."
Tal Shimony, a survivor, chimes in, "It's like we knew it would be the last dance."
It's 6:28 a.m.
Step through a curtain, and into the main exhibition space, it's 6:29 a.m. And it's a tableau of tragedy.
The burnt shell of a car on display at an exhibition in South Boston commemorating the survivors and the slain at the Nova Music Festival in Israel on Oct. 7, 2023.John L. Micek/MassLive
There are burnt-out shells of cars. Toppled porta-potties. Hastily abandoned campsites. The air smells of dust and gunfire and fear.
Sand crunches under your feet. The room is filled with the cries of the injured and dying and the triumphant shouts of the terrorists carrying out their massacre.
One video captures a recording of a phone call between a Hamas terrorist and his father.
"I killed Jews with my own hands," he crows.
At the far end of the room, the dance floor is empty, and the bar where Noa Beer had toasted with her DJ friend is deserted. A poster advertises the prices of drinks. A chaser of Gordon's Gin goes for 22 Israeli shekels, or around $6.71 in U.S. dollars.
Tents and other artifacts on display at an exhibition commemorating the attack on the Nova Music Festival in Israel on Oct. 7, 2023.John L. Micek/MassLive
Beer remembers it all. And she wants others to remember — and to understand.
"So, first of all, I think that people need to understand that, in the end, we were just music lovers [who] went to a festival on a Saturday morning," Beer said. "And 412 of us are not standing here today."
"Second of all, the inhumane acts of these terrorists, just raiding a music festival with people who are defenseless and innocent and the joy in [the terrorists'] eyes, [as] they try and kill us,' she continued. "I remember that the most chilling moment I had that day was looking in a terrorist's eyes and seeing him smile at the fact that there's an innocent and very, very scared girl that he's shooting at. And he's just smiling the biggest smile ever."
"I want people to come and see that we are a ... music-loving community that just came to dance. And I want people to remember that the moment that we forget that this happened is the day that it will happen again," she said. "And that this could happen anywhere. It could happen at Coachella and at Burning Man."
Beer offered her reflections in a softly lit room on the building's second floor.
On one wall, a celebration by survivors and dance artists played on a video screen. In an adjoining room, " Children ," a dancefloor classic revered by fans all over the world, gets reimagined as a somber, solo piano piece that remains no less hopeful.
Signs that read "We will dance again" are scattered across both rooms.
Noa Beer has danced again.
"And we can never stop doing that," she said
"We will dance again," she said. "And we will spread our light, we will spread our love. That is what we do as a community. That is what we are here for. That is what we do in this exhibit to show the world."
Read more analysis from John L. Micek
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