As I mentioned in my
earlier
essay, I had fully intended to write a full travelogue of my very
recent and wonderful experience, the OU Solidarity Mission to
Israel. I found, however, that (a) it was difficult for me to write
during the trip, and (b) several other participants have done a
wonderful job summarizing our adventures, including
Rabbi
Tzvi Hersh Weinreb,
Rabbi
Barry Kornblau and Rabbi Binyomin Ginsburg (reproduced below),
not including others that I am unaware of. There is a
Facebook
page that provides many pictures and perspectives. For me to
provide another version of that experience would be redundant, at
best.
I did, however, want to add a few
thoughts to those already expressed, in the hope that they have some
merit.
After saying goodbye to all the new and
old friends that joined me on the journey, I stayed in Israel for
another few days (still here!) in Yerushalayim, mainly to spend time
with my mother and children and extended family who live here, and
with some old friends. It strikes me that although I am not more
than an hour and a half from Sderot, it seems in many ways like a
different world.
I think back to the excitement,
passion, sense of meaning and empathy of last Shabbat: of the many
soldiers that we visited in the army base camps and in the hospital;
of the many families and children that have stoically endured
thousands of rockets and the accompanying fear and sometimes great
loss; of the wonderful Yeshiva in Sderot, and Rav Shmuel Eliyahu, who
do so much to inspire and give strength to that community; of the
brave people who came from comfortable North America far away and
placed themselves in areas that were prone to attack simply because
they wanted to let our brothers and sisters know “We are With You”
. . . I think of them all and I look around at the seeming
tranquility and humdrum of daily life here – and I am sure all the
more so back home in America – and wonder, “Do they appreciate
what is going on? Are they aware what sacrifices are being made on
their behalf? Is there anything that is different for them at this
time of battle, or do they – after saying an extra chapter of
Tehillim and checking the news reports – go on with life as normal?
If so...Is that perfectly fine?”
Truth be told, things are not just
going on as normal. In the primarily Chareidi neighborhoods that I
am spending most time in, there is more urgency than normal during
the tefillot (prayer services), less of a sense than normal at this
time of year that “Bein Hazmanim” (yeshiva vacation time) is
about to begin, and a certain sense of unease that is in the air. I
am very pleased that while at first I had heard that many yeshivos
were planning on having the regular Bein Hazmanim after Tisha B'Av (I
even heard it being defended as the necessary rest before the intense
Elul zman and yeshiva students, much like soldiers, need time off to
recharge and rejuvenate), saner heads have prevailed an announced
that for as long as the war continues, the yeshivos need to stay in
full learning session. This is the only ethical path; if people are
expected to accept that the reason yeshiva students are exempted from
army service is because they are doing their share of protecting
Israel through their learning, then surely that learning must
continue in full force while the war is on. It is that simple. Kudos to the Belzer Rav,
Chief Rabbi Yosef, and the Moetzes Gedolei HaTorah for putting out
that message. It is heartening to see that the majority of the
Chareidi community is trying, in their way, to be supportive of the
war effort.
There are other things that also show
it is not quite “business as normal”, even away from the southern
communities. There are clearly far less tourists than usual in the
summer, which is hurting many businesses. There has been an uptick
in terror attempts coming from the Arabs in Yehuda and Shomron; a
very major car bomb attack was foiled just as it was about to enter
Beitar Ilit, where my two older children live. The streets seem a
bit emptier than usual; people do not want to venture away from home
and the children when unnecessary. But one good thing seems to have
emerged at this time – there seems to be much more unity and shared
sense of purpose – more powerful than at any time in recent
memory.
Across the political spectrum, almost
from far right to far left; crossing over the religious divide, from
fervently Religious Zionist to fully Chareidi; Ashkenazic,
Sephardic, wealthy and poor; all seem to agree that the IDF is
fighting a necessary and virtuous battle, and must continue until the
tunnel and rocket threats are eliminated. Especially given the way
that Israel is being excoriated and slandered in the world press, by
western leaders, and by the so-called protectors of human rights and
peace (anybody hear from them when it comes to atrocities in Iran,
Syria, Iraq etc?) , it is refreshing to see the strength of purpose
of the “Amcha” in Israel who know that this is a just battle that
Israel must wage and win, whether the world agrees or not.
Unfortunately, this unity is not
unanimous. There are those on the far left that continue to
pressure PM Netanyahu to accept a cease fire under terms dictated by
Hamas, and are overly concerned about the way Israel is being
portrayed. There are those Reshaim in the Neturei Karta who
predictably appear at pro-Hamas rallies to say that Hamas is
justified in fighting the brutal and illegitimate Israeli government.
Those loons do not worry me, they are beneath all contempt. I am
bothered by some strains within the mainstream Yeshiva world such as
“the Great Gaon Rav Yisrael Y Kalmanowitz” who gave an address at
a major rally in Bnei Brak this week warning that “The main
challenge in our time is to stand firm against efforts to break down
the walls between Bnei Torah and the 'mixed multitude' (Eirev Rav). .
. we must learn from Aharon
HaKohein to pursue peace (only) within the Bnei Torah, through which
walls can be built to separate them from outside influences. . . in
such a time as war, when there is a natural affinity for closeness,
we must strengthen ourselves not to connect with them (the satanic
army), not directly or even emotionally. (My translation of an
excerpt of an article in HaPeles, 3 Av 5774, page 2). These words
speak for themselves. I can only hope that those who follow this
path are a small minority.
But
one thought naggingly remains. Even with all of the unity that most
feel, there is still a huge difference between those who feel unified
in spirit with the families of the South and the soldiers, and those
who do not suffice with feelings from afar, but determine to get up
and do something to help. Between those who applaud and encourage
the work an blood sweat and tears of others, and those who feel that
that soldier is my brother...that family are my cousins...that mother
is my mother, and I MUST do whatever one can to help.
Here
in Israel there are the many who load up their cars with food, and
drink and candy and books to deliver them to soldiers and communities
in the south. Those who, like OU Israel, organize teams of social
workers, health professionals, psychologists, Rabbis, and volunteers
to go and spend time and help with the very many needs of so many who
have been traumatized. Those who offer their homes ans support to
those who need to get away from Sderot, Ashkelon, and other
communities for a few days, and who go to visit and shop and help
support those communities.
For
those in Chutz LaAretz, there is much you can do – here are a few:
If
you can get on a plane and come here, the country needs you and your
tourist dollars and support.
Write
and call your elected officials to support Israel, and particularly
funding for the Iron Dome that with G-d's help has been so
spectacularly successful – each Iron Dome rocket fired costs
$60,000.
Donate
money to support some wonderful organizations who are on the ground
here and know the needs and are doing incredible work, particularly
the
OU Israel and
the
Yeshiva in Sderot,
which is a tremendous resource for the entire city and the army.
Write
letters to the editor, attend rallies, go to public meetings, and
find ways to show your support.
In
closing, I am so grateful to the Orthodox Union, and to my shul, the
Young Israel of Forest Hills for allowing me to be in Israel at this
time. As I have said to many, it was not so much that I wanted to
come, it is that I couldn't not come. I felt that I had to be here
with my people at this time. I am so full of thanks for the
wonderful experience that I was privileged to have, and want to
particularly thank Rabbi Avi Berman, director of OU Israel, for all
that he so expertly, and modestly, accomplishes. At the time of this
writing it is but a few days before Tisha B'Av. I deeply hope that
the Ahavas Chinam (selfless love) that is being exhibited by the
overwhelming majority of Klal Yisrael only grow and spread, and that
the time will soon come that no nation will raise sword against each
other, and the land will be filled with the spirit of Hashem.
Rabbi Binyomin Ginsburg's article that
will be printed in HaModia
You
would think everyone would be scared. You would think the mothers
would scurry through the streets with their children close by, their
backs hunched against the near-constant sound of exploding missiles.
You would think that people rarely smile, that they go about
their business grimly, knowing full well that not more than two
miles away reside roughly 1.5 million people who want them
dead.
The
normal, purposeful, yet overwhelmingly calm atmosphere in Sderot is
completely illogical, yet totally understandable in light of the
residents’ unwavering belief in Hashem, in His protection, and in
His unwavering promise that their lives belong to Him and He will
take care of them.
My
Shabbos in Sderot, Parashas Ma’asei,
was undoubtedly the most unforgettable, inspirational two days I have
ever spent. I ate food that was, for the most part, yeshivah food, I
slept on a bed no wider than a chair and thinner than most
pillows, I had no air conditioning in 90° weather, yet I
would not trade my Shabbos for the most luxurious hotel in the world.
The
phrase “ein domeh shmi’ah l’re’iyah- you
can’t compare hearing to seeing” is what I would use to
encapsulate the entire experience. Nothing I can say (or write), no
matter how prolific my pen or eloquent my words, can possible
describe the emotions I saw, the actions I watched, and the truly
indescribable kedushah that took place before my
eyes. I can only try to represent a fraction of what I experienced
through my words.
About
fifty people from America had come together to EretzYisrael to
spend a Shabbos in Sderot and show our solidarity and unity
with our Israeli brethren. The trip was organized through the
Orthodox Union and could not have been more astoundingly perfect.
Our
first stop in Israel after leaving the airport was not Sderot,
but the makeshift army bases that dotted the sweltering
desert landscape. These bases served the soldiers who had recently
been in Gaza, allowing them to eat, sleep, and regroup on friendly
territory before returning to their grim duties. I was astounded
to see dozen of cars at each base, with Yidden from
every walk of life pouring out to bring the exhausted soldiers
something to eat or to warm their hearts.
A
piece of cake, some rugelach, a small pan of kugel, or a package
of fruit; no one cared who wore a streimel, kippahsrugah,
velvet yarmulke, or nothing at all. The achdus was
tremendous, showing the soldiers that the entire Eretz Yisraelwas
on their side, praying for them, supporting them, doing any
little thing they could to help the chayalim.
Once
in Sderot, we went as close as possible to the Iron Dome,
getting within ten feet of the gigantic missile defense system that
protects Israel at $60,000 a shot. Talking to the soldiers and
hearing the missiles whistle and explode around me was surreal, made
only more dreamlike by the sight of two young girls handing a tray of
fresh cookies to a soldier and wishing him a cheerful (albeit shy)
“Shabbat Shalom!”
I
asked one of the soldiers if he knew any of the thirty-seven soldiers
who had been killed, hy”d. He replied that two of
them had been from his unit, and that he knew them well. When I
pressed him further and asked how their deaths affected him, the
soldier’s answer was as shocking as it was illuminating.
“Now,
I am not going to feel. I can’t afford to feel the pain, to focus
on my two friends who are now dead. If I did that, I would not be
able to do my job because I would be depressed and crying. There is a
time for everything, and mourning their deaths is not what I can do
now. Now I have to fight.”
It
is initially hard to understand why anyone would live in a city that
is under constant attack, much less voluntarily send their sons to
a yeshivah in that city, yet these residents’
service to their country and to Yidden everywhere is
the stuff of legends.Sderot is one of the closest cities
to Gaza and represents thePalestinian’s inability to advance
even a centimeter into Israeli territory.
Without Sderot,
the Palestinians would be able to slowly take land that is not theirs
and eventually take over large swathes of
Israel. Sderot residents are physically preserving the
boundaries of Israel.
Friday night
in the Sderot yeshivah was a penetrating
experience. I walked into the yeshivah and barely
noticed the lack of hats and jackets, or the color of the kippot.
Who cares? What difference did it make when two soldiers joining
thetefillos greeted each other with relief, having had no
idea if the other was still alive after a week of battle? The
ridiculous prejudices and separations of Yidden who
dress differently and have different minhagim never
seemed more obviously ludicrous than at
this Kabbalas Shabbos.
The davening lasted
for close to three hours, but we never wanted it to end. In
addition the nearly 500 yeshivah students, what
seemed like hundreds of the 600 soldiers stationed in a
makeshift army base on yeshivah campus in Sderot streamed
into the beis medrash during Kabbalas Shabbos. Many
of these soldiers had never observed Shabbos, much
less davened leilShabbos tefillos in
a yeshivah!
When we
sang songs with words like “shomrim hafkeid l’ircha”the
emotion was palpable. Counter to the criticism that non-frumIDF
soldiers have no appreciation for Hashem’s involvement in their
battles, these soldiers clearly showed that they knew with 100%
certainty that Hashem was behind every bullet and movement. To
see dozens of soldiers jumping high, pointing to the heavens and
singing with all their might “anachnu
ma’aminim b’nei ma’aminim,” there
is no doubt that they are ma’aminim baHashem and
look to Him for their very lives.
I
spoke to many soldiers with no Jewish observance to speak of who
said, “We are in Hashem’s hands. Our lives are dependent on Him,
and everyone knows that.”
Try
to picture that scene, hundreds of yeshivah students
locked arm and arm with uniform-clad soldiers, rifles strapped to
their backs, dancing and singing to welcome Shabbat Hamalkah.
One image remains stamped in my eye. Two young men stood with their
arms around each other’s shoulders, their backs to me. One young
man was from the yeshivah, wearing a shirt that said on
it “Torah magneh u’matzleh—Torah
protects and saves,” while the other was a soldier with a rifle on
his back.
Both
knew what was required of them. Both had a job, a mission, and
were dedicated to carrying it out to the utmost to
save Klal Yisrael from the hands of our
enemies. Torah saves and protects the soldiers who carry out Hashem’s
plans.
On Motzaie Shabbos,
I saw a soldier polishing his boots and asked him what he was doing.
The soldier replied, “I polished my boots before Shabbos to welcome
the Shabbos, and now I polish my shoes again to welcome the
observance of another mitzvah- serving my country and keeping it
safe.”
The
understanding that Hashem is the driving force behind them IDF keeps
the soldiers going. To them, their actions are no less than a mitzvah
and require the same concentration and dedication.
After
the Friday night tefillos, we sat down to
a seudah with soldiers who had never experienced a
Shabbos meal before. One soldier told me that he had been in Gaza all
week and had barely slept, but the relaxation and rejuvenation he
felt sitting at a Shabbos table was more valuable than a full night’s
rest.
After
the loudest night I had ever experienced, with bombs constantly going
off, I awoke to silence, the result of a 12-hour ceasefire.
I had the zechus to enjoy a Shabbos seudah with
a wonderful family of eight children. I ate familiar foods and sang
familiar songs, yet there was something so unique and strange about
this family, enjoying Shabbos in wartime, so close to a violent
battlefield.
The
eldest son, Aaron (name changed for privacy), was
fifteen years old and showed incredible knowledge of Torah and
Gemara. When I asked him how the war affected his life, he recounted
something that had happened to him this past week.
Aaron
planned to spend the day with a friend to enjoy
their beinhazemanim vacation. He got a ride to his
friend’s home in a different city and had taken a brief stop before
continuing the trip. With both Aaron and the driver out of the car,
but their possessions still inside, a missile whistled through
the air right above the car. Luckily, it had been targeted by the
Iron Dome and was blown to bits mid-air. Some of the shrapnel landed
on the car, cracking the windshield and piercing Aaron’s siddur,
which was lying on the dashboard.
As
Aaron related the story to me, there was not a trace of fear or
“could-you-imagine-if” in his eyes. Of course they had been out
of the car when the missile exploded, and of course they weren’t
hurt! The understanding that Hashem protects him at all moments was a
reality, an unshakeable truth that would not waver. While there was
definitely a hole in his siddur, there was none in his belief.
Throughout
the long Shabbos afternoon, an uplifting SeudatShlishit,
and the two hours after tzeis hakochavim beforehavdalah was
said, no one ever asked when Shabbos would be over. The kedushah was
tangible and Hashem’s closeness and love for every person there,
soldier, bochur, with or without kippah, hat, or
rifle, was profoundly felt by everyone. Nothing, I mean nothing, can
compare with that experience.
Over
and over again, we heard from the residents of Sderot how
much our visit meant to them. To the Israelis, especially those
literally in the line of fire, us Americans are too busy with our
malls, SUVs, manicures, and the price of gas to truly be
together with them in their battle to save Eretz Yisrael.
While this may be far from the truth, the only way to show them our
solidarity is to literally pick up and show them.
Everything
is so different when you are close, when you can shake someone’s
hand and tell them that you support them. There are always a million
reasons why you can’t/shouldn’t do something necessary, and the
only way to finally get the task done is to grab every opportunity
when it comes and use it to the fullest.
If
it is at all feasible, buy a ticket, get on a plane, and get out
here. More than the amount of chessed you can do by
bringing a breath of warmth and caring to a city ripped open by war,
your life will be changed and you will never be the same.
