How Can You Support Israel During this Difficult Time? Send Me on Vacation!

Supporters of Israel around the world, watching the Jewish State get battered by Hamas and bashed by the international community, have wondered: What can I do? How can I help. There are many different ways to help, both personally and financially. I'll mention a few you might already know about, and then suggest one perhaps you haven't considered.

1. Prayer: If you're reading this blog, there's a good chance you already do this. Keep doing it. I also suggest adding Psalm 144 to your list, but take the time to read and understand it. I spoke about it in this shiur, and it gives me a lot of comfort.

2. Political activism: This can take a number of different forms: (a) Participating in rallies (b) Writing letters to the editor, and supporting Israel in the media (c) Communicating with an elected official. I want to emphasize this point.
Over the past few weeks, we've seen the important role that Congress plays in supporting Israel's right to self-defense. Without the Congressional counter-balance to the pressure that has been brought to bear upon Israel to stop fighting, we'd be right back where we started, and Hamas would already be rebuilding tunnels with concrete supplied by the United Nations. Did you notice that Congress passed a number of resolutions supporting Israel's right to fight over the past few weeks? It cannot be coincidental that the FAA reversed its decision to halt American flights to Tel Aviv after a prominent Senator began asking pointed questions. And the money to pay for those expensive Iron Dome rockets helps a great deal.
I was involved with AIPAC when I was a rabbi, and continue to support AIPAC's work even from Israel. This is the very best time to get involved with AIPAC. Congressional elections take place later this year. Prominent supporters of Israel, including great friend of Israel Senator Carl Levin - who is retiring - will be fighting for their seats. Michiganders: Who will take Levin's place? Will he or she be as supportive of a strong US-Israel relationship as Levin is (hard to believe, truthfully, as Levin was as supportive as they come...) That really depends: Who's working for the candidate that will take his seat? Who's canvassing for votes, and working the phones? Who's writing the checks to support the campaign? It really is as simple as that. The people who get involved early have access later on.
It's not about supporting a candidate you don't believe in. Rather, it's about getting involved in the political process, and supporting someone you really do support, so that the friendship you create now can have a lasting impact down the road.

3. Send me on Vacation for You: All of this prayer and activism is fine and good, but you need to make a real difference right now. How best to do that? Send food to the soldiers? Already been done, and besides, the IDF insists that it's sending enough food to the soldiers already. (I know a guy who runs a food service company here in Israel supplying tens of thousands of meals a day.) Buy soldiers cell chargers? Again a good idea. But all the good IDF ideas have already been tapped out. How much Bamba can a poor private consume? How many pairs of dry-fit tzitiziot can a soldier wear?

What people may not realize Israel's economy, and specifically the tourist industry, has suffered badly during the war. People simply stopped coming, taking trips, cab rides, eating in restaurants, etc. This is, of course understandable, and it's also quite challenging for people who want to support Israel, who can't simply leave their homes, jobs and families and take a trip to the Holy Land.
The Solution? I will take your vacation for you!
I've taken the liberty of setting up an Indiegogo campaign to raise money for the express purpose of bolstering the Israeli economy. Over a two week period I (and my family) will:

• Stay in a luxury hotel
• Eat in fancy restaurants
• Travel by taxi only
• Take tours with paid tour Guides
• Visit popular and expensive attractions
• Offer service-people generous tips

These activities will provide vital support for the tourism industry in Israel, so badly battered by the continuing war in Israel. They need our support, and by teaming together (your support and my willingness to take a vacation in your place), together we can do our part to help those in Israel who are in need today!
So visit my campaign and join me in doing our part to help Israel win this war!

Small print: Donations are not tax deductible. They also don't count as ma'aser. Or tzedakah. 

Modern Day Clouds of Glory: A Story from the Battlefield in Gaza

The commander of Givati, Col. Ofer Winter, who made headlines with an impassioned letter of encouragement to his troops that borrowed heavily from Tanach and other Jewish sources, told the following story, which appeared today on NRG.
"I have never seen a miracle in my entire military career like the one that took place in the ruins of Chiza.
We decided to attack a certain target before sunrise so that no one could identify us. The advance force arrived at the location on time, the fighters themselves for some reason were delayed. We didn't know what to do, because the sun began to rise, and the rays of light began to illuminate the soldiers. We we almost forced to attack, when suddenly the clouds protected us. Clouds of Glory. Suddenly, they covered us - all of the fighters - with a heavy fog, that accompanied us during the entire attack. No one saw us. Only when the targeted houses had been destroyed and there was no longer any mortal danger, did the fog suddenly lift. Literally, is was, "For the Lord your God walks before you to save you." (Devarim 20:4)

What to Pray for During Times of War, and What Not to Pray For

As the Gaza War continues, I've made two short lists of what to pray for, and what not to pray for.

What to pray for:
1. The safety, success and victory of our soldiers
2. The health of the injured
3. Praying for individuals who I know of: I have been slowly gathering names of relatives of people who I know are in Gaza. The son of a coworker (אלון בנימין בן שרון), the husband of a vendor (יואב בן יהודית), the son of a coworker's neighbor (חגי בן חנה). It helps me when to pray not only for "everyone", but when I know that these are sons, fathers, husbands, with real names.

What not to pray for:
1. Peace
What? Not pray for peace? How is that possible?

The Minchat Elazar

In Rav Rafi Shtern's weekly email (contact him directly sternr111 at gmail dot com if you'd like him to add you to his list), he included a quote from the responsa Minchat Elazar from Rav Chaim Elazar Shapira, the second Rebbe of Mukatch, who was asked about what to pray for during the first World War. He wrote,

"לאשר אנו רואים כי אלו המלחמות הם חבלי משיח... העיקר להתפלל על הגאולה שלימה במהרה בימינו, לא כן ההמון שהטעו אותם שצריכים להתפלל עתה העיקר רק על 'שלום העמים' ושעל ידי זה יופסק המלחמה ישוב למצרים הוא הגלות המר... ומאריכים הגלות ומעכבים הגאולה... וכמ"ש בספר הזכרון להגאון החת"ס זצ"ל (מהד' תשי"ז עמ' נג) כי אם נתפלל על השלום הרי זה עיכוב הגאולה וכמו שאמרו חז"ל 'מלחמה נמי אתחלתא דגאולה הוא... רק שנרבה בתורה ובתפלה... נתפלל רק על הגאולה ולא נחוש על המלחמה כלל, עכ"ל החת"ס...." (ועיין דרכי חיים ושלום עמ' רי"ג ואילך).

As we see that these wars are the birth pangs of the Messiah...the essence is to pray for Complete Redemption quickly in our days, not like the masses who have been misled to think that the essence of what we must pray for now is, "Peace among the nations". For through this the war will stop, and we will return to the anguish of the bitter exile...and those people extend the Exile and delay the Redemption...as it is written in the Sefer HaZikaron of the Chatam Sofer (5617 edition page 53). "For if we pray for peace, this hinders the Redemption, as our Sages said, 'War is also the beginning of the Redemption...' Rather, we must increase prayer and the study of Torah...and we must pray for the Redemption and not concern ourselves with the war at all."

It's not enough to pray for peace. We pray for the Ultimate Peace. Praying (or working)  for an "immediate cessation of hostilities", doesn't make things better. It just delays the peace for which we truly yearn.

Still Learning Lessons from the Disengagement, Five Years Later

To download a pdf version of this piece click here.

Disengagement? From Gush Katif? When was that – 2005? In our media-driven, twenty-four-seven culture, five years ago seems like ancient history. Do we have to keep talking about it? Can't we move on?
Not where I live.
In Yad Binyamin, the town where I settled with my family, you can't really allow yourself to forget the expulsion from Gush Katif, because the former residents of Gush Katif not only play a central role in the life of the yishuv. They literally live in the center of the yishuv.
While Yad Binyamin has experienced fantastic growth over the last four years, that growth was built around a ring of caravillot – caravan homes – that circle the center of the yishuv. Every day as I leave home for work; every time I jog near my house; every morning as my children ride their bikes to school - we pass by temporary homes, filled with residents waiting for permanent housing. Still. The gentleman with whom I share a row in shul and see every Shabbat just started to build his home last month. Really.
Whatever your position about the expulsion from Gush Katif – and it's safe to say that most people reading this piece were/are against – we must remember that political and government decisions affect real people. Whether abandoning Gaza was a good military and political decision or a bad one, real people lost their homes. Thousands of people lost their jobs. Thousands of children found themselves uprooted, unsure and confused. And whether we intended to harm those people or not, it was incumbent upon us to ask ourselves how the government's decisions would affect them, and then take steps to mitigate that harm to the greatest possible degree.
No less than Moshe Rabbeinu learned this lesson from Yitro is this week's Sedra.
After welcoming his father-in-law with a celebratory banquet and regaling him with tales of the miraculous Exodus from Egypt, Moshe had to get back to work. Imagine his "joy" when Yitro decided to accompany him. (Can you imagine bringing your in-law to work with you?) Yet, when Yitro witnesses Moshe in action, he offers valuable constructive criticism.

וַיֹּאמֶר חֹתֵן מֹשֶׁה, אֵלָיו: לֹא-טוֹב, הַדָּבָר, אֲשֶׁר אַתָּה, עֹשֶׂה. נָבֹל תִּבֹּל--גַּם-אַתָּה, גַּם-הָעָם הַזֶּה אֲשֶׁר עִמָּךְ: כִּי-כָבֵד מִמְּךָ הַדָּבָר, לֹא-תוּכַל עֲשֹׂהוּ לְבַדֶּךָ.

And Moshe's father-in-law said to him: 'The thing that you're doing is not good. You will surely wear away, both you, and this people that is with you; for the thing is too heavy for you; you cannot do it alone.

As we all know, Moshe tried to judge the people alone, attending individually to their needs. Yet, Yitro worried not only about Moshe's ability to perform the task, but also how his actions would affect the people. Explaining the words נבל תבול, Chizkuni writes,

This is a language of confusion, as in "and confound their language" (Bereishit 11:7) – meaning that in this matter both you and they will become confused. One person will yell, "Listen to me, my master!", and another will follow suit. You won't know whom to answer, for you won't know what they're saying, and they won't know what you're saying.

Undoubtedly Moshe was trying his best. He figured that as he served as the closest link to God, he would be the best person to guide the people and answer their questions. He was right. He would be the ideal person to speak to. But Yitro realized that you can't always have what's best. You also have to worry about what will work and how the decisions that you make affect not only yourself, but the people that are counting on you.
Writing about the "Disengagement"/"Expulsion" is tricky business. Here in Israel especially, it's a painful, highly charged political topic that has the power to instantly alienate and upset, understandably so.
Yet, whatever our political perspective on the Disengagement, we must take to heart the fact that we did not properly account for the fundamental upheaval that the residents of the Gush would soon undergo – both in the short term, and even now, years later. We must look back now and see the pain that they still feel, not just from the Disengagement, but from the feeling of abandonment both on the part of the government certainly, but even from us – the rest of the Jewish people, who have in a real way "moved on."
We might have "moved on" but they have not – still living in their caravillot, looking for jobs, managing their families. The Disengagement affected real people, causing real pain, struggle and difficulty, that continues to this day.
And that's a lesson that we must take to heart today, almost five years later.

Leaning Far, Far Right...Off the Deep End

The Jerusalem Post recently featured this article about Shmuel Sackett and Moshe Zalman Feiglin, the founders of far-Right Likud faction Manhigut Yehudit, and their ideas for rescuing Gilad Shalit and moving Israel forward. How would Feiglin deal with the Schalit crisis?

Feiglin said he would immediately execute half of the prisoners named in Hamas's negotiation list and execute another one each day Schalit was not released.
"We have atomic bombs, and we cannot rescue a soldier 10 kilometers away?" asked Feiglin. "We take a list of what they want and simply kill half of them, and every day he is not released, we kill another one. If they kill him, then you attack, and you make sure there is not one Hamas leader who stays alive."

I really have no idea what the reaction was from the crowd of twenty-five who gathered in Katamon. But I can tell you my reaction to Feiglin's ideas: Please. Be. Quiet.
Let me list the reasons:

1. Practical: Hamas has already demonstrated that it's perfectly willing to sacrifice its own citizens, including women and children, to further the cause of Palestinian suffering. Shooting mortars from a school yard is a perfectly valid form of resistance, especially if the Hamas Freedom Fighters manage to elicit a response from the IDF that hurts, or preferably kills innocent people, preferably children. This, of course generates international outrage from media outlets like the BBC, leading to damning reports from Human Rights Watch, culminating in critical reports from the United Nations Human Rights Commission. It's a simple calculation of cost, which Hamas leadership has determined to be worth the expense. A few lives for international pressure on Israel? Sure, just add them to the martyrs list.
Imagine then the glee in Hamas headquarters under the Gaza Central Hospital when they learn that Israel has decided to execute prisoners under Israeli confinement as per Prime Minister Feiglin's plan. How long will the line be around the block for reporter from CNN, NBC, Newsweek, the Oregon Duck, and every other media representative to interview the condemned, their families, their mourning sisters? How well Feiglin's plan go over in the international media? Who cares? Actually, we do. Israel depends on not only U.S. economic and political support, but a huge chunk of Israel's economy depends on international trade. How long would it take for protests to form at the headquarters of Google, Microsoft, Intel, and the hundreds of other major corporations that do business in Israel? How soon would it be before they decided that, you know what, it's just not worth losing billions of dollars both in Europe and the Arab world to stay in Israel? How would PM Feiglin find jobs for the thousands of unemployed Israelis then?

2. Legal: Collective punishment is against international law. Israel struggles mightily with the use of even home demolitions as a means of deterring suicide bombings (which it has done effectively). The notion of punishing Palestinians - even terrorists (and not all detainees have been involved in violent crimes) - is a terrible violation of international law that Israel subscribes to.

3. Ethical: Is it really moral to kill thousands of captives to try and free one Jewish soldier? Sure, it's moral in an attack attempting to free Schalit to kill those who attempt to prevent his release. But that's not what Feiglin means. He means walking into a jail cell and shooting a detainee in cold blood - not for what he's done, but in the hope that his meaningless death will compel a vile and cruel terrorist in Gaza to release a Jewish soldier. Sorry, Mr. Feiglin, but that's not my idea of ethical.
One of the most difficult aspects of the challenge of fighting Hamas in Gaza is the fact that we're playing by different sets of rules. We have morals and ethics, and they don't. Yet, I (and most Israelis) don't consider our ethics a weakness. Rather, it's our greatest strength. And sinking to the depths of Hamas wouldn't strengthen our position either with Hamas or the rest of the world.

If you had the impression that Moshe Feiglin represents the views of Anglo Olim living here in Israel, I'd like to offer another point of view. I consider myself right of center, and believe in the eternal right of the Jewish people to the Land of Israel.
But I won't become a murderer and terrorist to make that happen.

Thanking Hamas?

During the recent brief tour of the south during the JNF Rabbinic Solidarity Mission to Israel, we took a tour of Soroka Hospital in Be'er Sheva, and got the lowdown from the medical people on how they prepare for the war, the changes that they had to make - and even a short tour of the emergency trauma unit where they bring the injured straight from the battlefield. What shocked me most was the fact that the emergency room was totally and completely empty. Sure, it was ready for anything, but there was no one in the room.
So I asked: where are all the regular people. Certainly there had to be accidents, normal injuries - the stuff of daily life that bring people into emergency rooms. Back in Detroit, I had been to numerous emergency rooms, my favorite being the one in the Henry Ford Hospital where my good friend Dr. Howard Klausner works, and it was anything but empty - always a beehive of activity.
Then it dawned on me: the numbers of injured must be way, way down. So I asked a nurse giving the tour and she admitted that during the war, people just didn't go out the way they normally did. They weren't driving as much, and so they got injured far less. And on the radio this week, following a rather heinous car crash (of which there have been a couple this week), the host observed that during the war, people drove differently. They were kinder, less hurried, less agressive on the roads. The whole country really did come together. We really didn't see articles like this one in the papers during the war.
Which makes me wonder: did the war in Gaza, somehow perversely, save Jewish lives?

Returning to Normal

Speaking to people in the States, many wonder what the attitude here is about the conclusion of the Gaza war. Should we have stopped so soon? Why didn't the IDF continue to pound Hamas? I especially hear a lot of chatter from more right-wing Americans about how the IDF should have taken over all of Gaza. I've got a few comments:

1. The army had pretty much destroyed everything that it could find, from tunnels to weapons caches to any Hamas installation or building, without actually entering the highly populated areas in Gaza.
2. Hamas had basically stopped fighting, and would not even send me to go attack. The soldiers that I spoke to said that they were not that impressed with the way that the Hamas fighters fought. They expected differently, but did not encounter that much civilian resistance.
3. Hamas fights through terror. Many of the battles were calculated to capture soldiers, which thank God did not happen. But entering populated cities greatly increases the likelihood of another Gilad Schalit, which no one wants.
4. Finally, and most importantly, while Israelis were incredibly patient about the war, it's hard living under the constant threat of missile attack. The army knew that a cease-fire had a great likehood of stablity, and that the rocket attacks would stop - which thus-far they have. I suspect that many people who wanted the war to continue don't live close enough to Gaza to have had to run to their safe-rooms whenever a siren sounded; they didn't have to sit in the bathroom with their children who were too frightened to shower alone, fearful that they wouldn't hear the siren; they didn't have to run through the grocery store, frightened to be caught in an attack, unable to shop at a leisurely pace.

In other words, most people wanted things to return to normal. I know that's how I feel. I can only imagine how the citizens of Sederot and Ashdot and Netivot and Ashkelon feel.

We pray for the families that lost loved-ones, for the injured soldiers, and also that the calm continues. Until the next war.

Doing My Part

Yesterday, as I got out of my car at minchah, I clicked the little clicker-thing to arm the alarm. Nothing happened. That's weird. But I went to minchah, hoping the problem would resolve itself. After minchah, I was late for a chavruta (study partner), but the thing wouldn't disarm. (It automatically arms itself after about a minute). And the only way to work the alarm is with the wireless keypad - no pad in the car itself.
It was weird. I went to the local computer store for a battery, and he told me that I was the third person that day looking for a battery. And then, when he tested my battery, it worked fine. Everntually Rena sent Simcha with the other keypad which worked, but the whole thing didn't make sense - until I read an article in the New York Times that said:

Across the border region, Israel has lowered a kind of electronic curtain to prevent remote-control bombs, disabling even remote car locks well into Israel.

I don't know if that was really why my alarm didn't work. After all, we're pretty far away. But if it is the cause of my car-alarm troubles, it's fine with me.
Just doing my part.

A Very Personal War - 2nd Edition

A group of friends of mine from the United States, led by Rabbis Barry Gelman of Houston, and Asher Lopatin of Chicago, came to the southern region of Israel for a 36-hour solidarity mission. I joined them in Ashkelon, Ashdod, Nitzan, Be'er Sheva, Sederot, and other places as well. (We drove around quite a bit.)
The most meaningful part of the trip was our visit to Soroka Hospital in Be'er Sheva, where we visited a soldier injured during the fighting named Li'el Cohen. My friend Rabbi Gelman, writing on the blog for the mission (isn't the 21st century amazing) wrote:

The group I visited with went to see the family of Lee'el Cohen who suffered a serious head and brain injury in Gaza last week. We prayed together and spoke about Lee'el and his wife. Lee'el's father requested that we lead our congregation in prayer for Lee'el , the other wounded soldiers as well as all the soldiers of the IDF.
Lee'el has been married for 14 months. His family is praying that he will soon recover and continue building his family. His father called this struggle only and " intermission" in Lee'els plans. We explained that our delegation came as representatives of the American Jewish community so soldiers like Lee'el would know that they are supported and loved by Am Yisrael. We explained that we were only representatives of our communities and in reality there thousands of Jewish families represented in that room. Although It is hard to believe, Lee'els father told us that our presence warmed his heart and gave them added strength to carry on.
There was a constant flow of uniformed young men and women coming to visit Lee'els family. They were all members of his Golani Brigade unit. I have reached a point where these fighting men and women look like children to me.
Lee'els father constantly spoke of God, together with the doctors, who he called angels in white coats, who would hopefully heal his son.
For me, this was the most powerful part of the trip. To spend time with a family that is suffering so much anxiety and uncertainty, but who at the same time handle themselves with such poise and express such deep faith is an unbelievably moving experience.

We promised that we would pray for his well-being, and send our message to as many people as possible. Li'el suffered severe injuries to the head, and his recovery - even if successful, will be long and arduous. I spent some time sitting with Li'el's mother. She sat in that cold hospital lobby, with mounds of food by her side, and pictures of her son. It's amazing how similar hospitals can be, no matter where they are in the world. She said that as a mother, she could not sit by her son's side for very long at any one time, watching him suffer in pain.

Please pray for a refu'ah for Li'el Hoshea ben Miriam. May Hashem bring him a complete recovery, both in body and spirit.

Appreciating Our Blessings - Devar Torah for Shemot

Yad Binyamin seemed like a perfect choice. A wonderful community with a nice mix of Israelis and “Anglos”, my wife and I felt it would be a great place to begin our lives as new immigrants to Israel. Indeed, we were right. The kids have made good friends, the schools have been terrific to work with, and the community members warm and welcoming. Yad Binayamin really has been great.
Except for our friends from the South. OK – not really our friends. I mean our enemies from Hamas in Gaza. Yad Binyamin lies 39.5 kilometers from the Gaza border, just inside the outer limits of Hamas rocket capability. The Military Civilian Authority decided (wisely) to keep all children home from school, mine included, and they have only returned to school this week. Life at home is the same, but different. Just a little more tense. The children don’t sleep as well. They don’t venture out like they used to.
But still, with the challenge of living in a real war zone, carrying my children into our protected room, listening to my wife lie on the ground during a rocket attack on my cell phone, things are wonderful. They truly are. Why do I say so? Because I learned lesson from the Ben Ish Chai that I saw in a terrific sefer called מעיין השבוע.
As we begin to read of שיעבוד מצרים, the subjugation of the Jewish people at the hands of the Egyptians, one primary question enters our minds: why? If God really wanted to ultimately give the Jewish people the Torah and return them to ארץ ישראל, who needs Egypt? Who needs hundreds of years of slavery, suffering and desperation? Why not just keep Ya’akov and his family in the Land of Cana’an, take them to Eilat for a weekend to give them the Torah and let them comfortably settle the land? Why did God deliberately create a situation that demanded suffering before the salvation?
The Ben Ish Chai answers this question through a parable.
There once lived a wealthy businessman who kindly took in an orphaned youth as his houseguest. He happily gave the youth a home to live in and the young man settled into his new life comfortably. Several years later, a poor man came to the house to ask for tzedakah. Like most beggars, he expected only a modest donation, perhaps only five or ten shekel. When the man pulled out two hundred shekel, the pauper rejoiced. He began to bless the g’vir, his wife, his children – his city, his home. It was all the businessman could do to get the man out the door, bowing and throwing blessings behind him as he left.
Watching the scene unfold, the businessman’s wife commented to him, “While it’s true that you gave that man a nice gift, it’s not that much in the grand scheme of things. We’ve given the young man living in our home far, far more than two hundred shekel, and while he’s a fine young man, he never thanks us the way that man did.”
The businessman agreed with his wife, and called the young man into his office.
“You have been living with us for several years,” he told him. “You’ve always been pleasant, but I want you out of my house now. Please leave everything we’ve given you, and go immediately.”
The young man, dumbfounded, didn’t know what to do. All he could do was quietly leave the house, wondering where to go next. Arriving in the center of town he soon grew hungry. With nothing to eat and nowhere to sleep, he found a hard bench in the park to spend the night. Forced to find work for food, he began hiring himself out to deliver groceries to harried housewives, earning just enough to get a bite to eat. On the third day the businessman told his assistant, “Go call the young man back to the house and return him to his room.”
That afternoon at lunch, the young man rushed into the kitchen to help set the table. He thanked his patron profusely for the food, and afterwards asked if he could help in any other way.
The Jewish nation, said the Ben Ish Chai, was that young orphan. If God had given us the Torah with ease and comfort; if He had allowed us to remain in ארץ ישראל without having to conquer it ourselves, we would never appreciate the value of those incredible gifts. This is why Hashem sent Ya’akov down to Egypt and the Jewish people suffered for so long. Only because we suffered to gain our freedom and only because we struggled to receive the Torah do those values mean so much to us today.
And, only because we fought – and continue to fight – to protect our right to ארץ ישראל do we truly appreciate the Land that Hashem has given us. There really is a relationship between the hardships we undergo and how much we value the blessings that we have. Thank God, I live in Yad Binyamin, not Sderot. I really don’t have things so hard. And the subtle changes to my daily life that the war has brought highlight just how much I appreciate my kids’ school, my community, the quiet of normal daily life, and the blessing that I merit to live in Eretz Yisrael.
Each of us deals with challenges and tribulations in our lives. Shemot reminds us that even while we address the hardships of life, those very struggles can help us appreciate the tremendous blessings that Hashem brings to our lives each and every day.
We hope and pray that with Hashem’s help, the IDF succeeds in its mission, life in Israel returns to normal, and our soldiers return safely to their families soon.

A Very Personal War

People have told me that war in Israel is a family matter. And they're really right. In Michigan, whenever a soldier from Michigan died in Iraq, you heard about it. Maybe they mentioned his or her name, maybe not, but never much more than that.

When four IDF soldiers died in Gaza last week, the radio stations carried not only their names, but extensive interviews with their families. I learned about what kind of people they were. One a young Druze from a villiage near Haifa, another a graduate of yeshiva who truly believed in the holiness and sanctity and power of the Jewish nation. His brother said on the radio (Reshet Bet) on the day that he died, that even if he had known that he would be killed the next day, he would have enlisted again to fight. Our soldiers aren't just unknown names and numbers. They're people, mostly young men, with lives and hopes and dreams. They're the sons of colleagues from Michigan who are teaching in Akiva, and the child of a rav of mine from Bar Ilan University. It's all very personal.
Which brings me to an email that I received at work today and an article in the Jerusalem Post online which said, "Officer critically hurt in Gaza blast." Sad. Worrisome. But not personal. But then I noticed an email that was sent to all the employees at Orot.

אנא אמרו תהילים לרפואת אהרן יהושע בן חיה שושנה
קצין צה"ל שנפצע קשה אתמול
אהרן הוא הבן של הרב קרוב מקרני שומרון שהתחתן ביום ד' האחרון
ובשבת חתן בבקר גוייס למלחמה

Please recite Tehillim for the complete recovery of Aharon Yehoshua ben Chaya Shoshana, an IDF officer who was critically wounded yesterday. Aharon is the son of Rav Karov from Karnei Shomron who just got married last Wednesday, and was called up on the morning of his Shabbat Chatan.

I found out later that while they called him up during his Aufruf, they let him go home for his wedding last Thursday, and then called him up again during Sheva Brachot. And today he's fighting for his life.
It's not an officer. It's a rav's son. A new wife's husband. A jewel of Israel. Let us pray for the refuah sheleimah of Aharon Yehoshua ben Chayah Shoshanah.

Table Talk for Shemot - From Last Year. Scary.

I wrote this Table Talk for the YIOP bulletin last year. It's amazing how true it was, especially in light of the cynical and sick Hamas practice of using their own children as human shields. (see the second story)

On average, each and every day three shells, mortars or Katyusha rockets land somewhere in Israel, lobbed from Gaza by some faction affiliated with Hamas. In response, Israel has placed a virtual economic stranglehold on Gaza, causing a great deal of suffering for the average Gaza resident. Why doesn’t the controlling Hamas leadership put an end to the shooting, and alleviate the suffering of its people? Because it’s better politically for Hamas to continue to resist, no matter the consequence.
In putting the suffering of their enemies ahead of their own citizens’ well-being, the leaders of Hamas follow a long pattern of this type of behavior, beginning with Par’oh in Egypt.
As we all know, Par’oh initially attempts to force the Jewish midwives to murder Jewish infants during childbirth. When the midwives refuse, Par’oh issues an all-encompassing decree: ויצו פרעה לכל עמו לאמר כל הבן היאורה תשליכהו וכל הבת תחיון – “And Par’oh commanded his entire nation saying, every male shall be thrown in the Nile and every female may shall be left alive.” Rashi notes that Par’oh never distinguishes between Jewish and Egyptian babies. Rather, אף עליהם גזר – “he even decreed on [their own children].” Par’oh, warned by his astrologers of the impending birth of a child that would ultimately cause his downfall, doesn’t care whether he’s throwing Jewish or Egyptian babies into the river. As long as he remains in power, that’s all that matters to him. If a few – or thousands -- of his own people suffer in the process, that’s of no concern to him.
It’s amazing how often history repeats itself.

Parenting During a War: Challenging Choices

Raising children during a war presents unique challenges. Thankfully, we live far enough away from Gaza that I find it difficult to imagine rockets landing here. Unfortunately, Yad Binyamin sits close enough to Gaza that the army (or the Defense Minister) insists that we should the schools closed. (A lot of discussion here revolves around the question of how much politics play a role in this situation. Would Ehud Barak have closed all the schools if he wasn't up for reelection in a month? Sure, it’s always better to be safe than sorry, but other facts do come into play.) This has created the unusual situation that looking around everything seems quiet and normal, but because they’re stuck at home on a bright sunny day, children intuitively know that something is wrong.
Personally, I don't feel that much more tense than normal. I studied in Israel during the first Gulf War in 1991 when Saddam Hussein lobbed Scud missiles at us (and no one knew whether he was kind enough to arm them with chemical or biological warheads). Sitting in a hermetically sealed room with a gas mask and an atropine pen at the ready - that was scary.
But my children do not enjoy the “benefit” of my past experience. They just know that there's a war, and that the "bad guys" are shooting rockets at Israel. So they're very much on edge. For example:
• Last night before havdalah, for some reason my alarm clock in my bedroom went off - a regular "alarm-clock" beep. Several of our children began to cry, wondering if that was the sound of the siren, and whether they should run upstairs to the mamad (sealed room). It was quite eye-opening.
• When we learned that there wouldn't be any school today, we decided to go as a family on a small trip - probably to a park somewhere. My son asked that wherever we go, could it please be "out of range?" Sure.
• This morning listening to the radio, the news played some of the sounds from Gaza. Hearing the radio from upstairs, two kids came down with worried looks on their faces, wondering if the noise was "close." I explained that the sounds weren't here - but "there." But I turned the radio off quickly.
Last night we received a nice letter from the school's psychologist about how to deal with our children during the war. I found the letter somewhat confusing. On one hand, we're supposed to be honest and forthright because kids know that something's up. On the other hand, the letter suggests that we shield them as much as possible from images or media that might overly frighten them.
All good advice. But where's the line between not enough information and too much? How much do I tell, and how much do I hide?
I guess that's the perennial parental struggle. Only in war, the issues become that much more pressing.

Shabbat in Yad Binyamin: Living in Range

On Thursday, the regional council ran a "drill" telling us that they would test the sirens at 12pm. We decided to use the opportunity to practice running to the mamad (our protected room), so that we'd know what to do if we heard a "real" siren. As 12pm approached, the kids even came in from playing outside so that we'd be ready. Twelve came and went - and no siren. Apparently, I learned over email that when they expanded the yishuv, they might have forgotten to expand the siren system to cover the entire new area. I pretty much couldn't hear anything - and I was listening for it, which makes me wonder how I would ever hear anything if an actual attack took place.
Thankfully, I'm not the only concerned citizen here. (I'm actually on the very mellow side.) Numerous residents called to complain, and were told a few things:

1. We're looking into it
2. The army needs to fix the sirens, but Be'er Sheva comes first. Theirs didn't work that well either.
   
3. Actually, the sirens are supposed to be automatic, but not all of them are connected to the network. So, there are soldiers who are sitting there, ready to hit the button at the appropriate time in the areas not covered by the automatic siren system. While they should have pressed the button they didn't, supposedly because they were out eating lunch. (Great system. This story is just ridiculous enough to believe.)
   

We learned last night that school would continue to be canceled for the foreseeable future. Truthfully, they said that they're taking things one day at a time, but on the moatzah's (regional council) web site, they're already planning youth activities and tiyyulim outside the region for tomorrow. It's difficult to know how long this will go on.
Shabbat was subdued - very quiet. While we heard a number of planes flying about, especially towards the end of the day, nothing much happened here - not that I expected anything. Still, we needed to be prepared, so I turned on the radio to one of the silent stations that the government runs for people who keep Shabbat, so that if there's an alarm, they turn on the station and warn everyone.
Many families left for Shabbat. I think they just felt it would be easier with family up north. Others slept "camp" style in their mamads, all together. We slept normally, and figured that if an attack came, we'd have sixty seconds - enough time - to get into our mamad.
I didn't hear anything all Shabbat. Nice and quiet - so I figured that there were no attacks. Then I turned on the radio to learn that Hamas did launch about twenty rockets over Shabbat, and I hadn't heard anything. Which made me wonder whether I had the right frequency, or the radio system wasn't yet up and running. Who knows?

Happy New Year - No School Today! Yay.

I had my day all planned. First a run. Then sit down and do some work - maybe get some writing done; perhaps some other work. Then, at the end of davening I discover the dreaded news: no school today for any children. None tomorrow either. What caused this sudden cancellation?

• Did the moatzah (regional council) suddenly discover New Years Day? (For some reason, in Israel they call New Years "Sylvester". I have no idea why, but any time I hear it on the radio it makes me laugh. Sylvester. Isn't that the name of the cat who's always trying to eat Tweety Bird? But I digress.)
• Did a foot of snow suddenly fall last night? Again no.

Rather, the Minister of Defense of Israel expanded the boundaries of the Military Zone around Gaza to 45 kilometers, and we're now officially in range. So there's no school.

We got a letter over email from the Rosh Mo'atzah - who's a great guy explaining the decision, making it clear that he had nothing to do with it. My favorite part of the letter is where he explains that in his mind, "In the merit of the Torah learned [by the children] of the Moatzah Nachal Sorek (where we live), no citizens of Israel will be stricken.

May it be God's will that his words come to pass. Meanwhile, let us all pray for the safety and well-being of our soldiers, who will take up the battle to protect the citizens of Israel.

I guess now that really means us.

Because I want my kids back in school soon.

Living in the South of Israel Today

On my way to work this morning, I listened to a reporter in Be’er Sheva as the warning sirens wailed, and hear a rocket explode close enough to him to clearly recognize the fall of the Grad rocket. Mind you, I was driving the other way. But it does bring things home.

Yesterday, the school system conducted a series of assemblies to explain what would happen in case of a rocket attack that threatened Yad Binyamin. With Be’er Sheva in range and a rocket falling yesterday on Kiryat Malachi (where we do most of our grocery shopping), the kids needed to be made aware. I hadn’t really thought about it. We hadn’t sat the kids down and told them what was going on. But the school was absolutely correct; they have a responsibility to our children, and in case of emergency, they need to be prepared.

Leah was understandably traumatized at school – but a nice treat successfully calmed her nerves. We explained to her that while we needed to take precautions, we didn’t think that there was very much to worry about. And I still don’t. Gaza is pretty far away and life proceeds as normal. I haven’t lost sleep over this, which is the first thing that would happen if I was really, truly worried.

How does the situation make me feel? Have I wondered about the wisdom of moving my family and children to where we now live? Not for a moment.

First and foremost, this is our land – and I understand that it doesn’t come free. We must be willing to defend and protect the land – and that doesn’t just mean soldiers. It means me and my family, willing to live our normal lives even when there’s something to worry about. But I strongly believe that when we sacrifice for something, we grow closer to it. When we stay – despite the worries – we grow stronger in our connection to the Land. It’s not just a place to live; it’s a place that I’m willing to sacrifice something for – be it a job, financial security, or even a sense of physical security (as elusive as that may be anywhere). Every Oleh knows this feeling of sacrifice, and appreciates how it brings him not to resent the Land – but that much closer to it.

Missiles Raining Down

We knew that something was up.

Our small yishuv (settlement – but it’s the kosher kind, well inside the Green Line) sits about a mile away from the Tel Nof Air Force base – a major hub of IAF activity. You kind of get used to the jets streaking overhead all the time, and tune out the noise.

Except on Shabbat. On Shabbat there are never jets. You cherish the quiet. After all, why disturb the Jewish day of rest unless there’s an emergency. And that’s how we knew something was up – when we heard the jets on Shabbat afternoon.

For some weeks now we’ve been hearing about the bombs and missiles and rockets landing throughout the south of Israel. And I’ve been listening to the news along with all Israelis with a growing sense of frustration. While it has been a relief to hear (most of the time) that there were “no injuries,” how long could that really last? (Not long enough.) When would we do something to stop the shooting? What would we do? What could we do?

I learned today that my house sits in harm’s way. Yad Binyamin lies smack between Kiryat Malachi and Gadera, about forty kilometers from Gaza, at the outer range of Hamas rocket capabilities. (it's right on the red line between the purple and green zones. Not close - but on the map. And it's not a great map to be on.) Unlike the residents of Sederot, who get only fifteen seconds warning, we’ll have forty-five. Not that I’m that worried. But it does give me an eerie sense to know that for better or worse, I'm “within range” of a terrorist. It also didn't help that we all got "preparedness" memos in our mailboxes yesterday. (As if the bombings in Mumbai didn’t remind us that all of us are – inside Israel and out.)

I view the army fighter jets differently than I used to. In the United States, jets were a nuisance; a source of noise that disturbed our otherwise quiet lifestyles. They were part of the background, to be taken for granted and ignored. In fact, the only day I can remember not hearing the roar of the jets was September 11th, 2001, when I yearned to hear a jet in the sky.

Now though, when I hear a jet roar overhead, or especially when I see a helicopter flying south (they often fly in formations of two or three), I think about the men inside. Actually, it’s probably boys. And they’re our boys, who we’re sending to do some very adult-like behavior to protect our country, our families, and our people. Lately, whenever I spot an aircraft overhead I think a small prayer in my head. I pray for the well-being of the pilot. For the safety of the crew. For the peace of mind of their parents. And for the safety of our country.

Because a jet or a helicopter is no longer just a noise to me. It’s our children. And this week especially, they need all of our prayers.