A century ago, in pre-state Israel, Jewish communities saw a need. They were often isolated, and mainstream services weren’t always responsive to their needs—like keeping things open on Saturdays (the Jewish Sabbath) or using kosher medical supplies. A group of volunteers said, “Let’s start our own emergency service, but open it to everyone.” It’s like that one friend who starts a shared fridge in the office: “I’ll bring in snacks, but please help yourself.” It’s an act of community, not exclusion.
Imagine you’re at a huge potluck. Someone brings a dish labeled “Sarah’s Secret Soup.” It turns out to be the best thing you’ve ever tasted. You don’t have to be Sarah’s cousin to eat it. That’s Magen David Adom. It’s a service born from Jewish values—pikuach nefesh, the idea that saving a life overrides everything else—but it serves everyone.
A Little Story to Make You Smile
My friend Ben once fainted on a trip to Jerusalem. He’s not Jewish—he’s a lapsed Buddhist from Ohio. An MDA ambulance screeched up, and the paramedic, who had a yarmulke (that’s the little skullcap) and a thick Israeli accent, gave Ben an oxygen mask and said, “Don’t worry, buddy. I’ll get you to a hospital with great air conditioning.” Ben later laughed, “I was saved by a Jewish ambulance driver who complained about the weather. It was the most wholesome experience of my life.” The point is, that ambulance didn’t care about Ben’s background—it cared that he was breathing.
South Central Ambulance Service stands down critical incident
