Messages from Gaza Then & Now

View from Kfar Aza into Gaza on 11/15/23

While looking across the border into Gaza during these difficult final days of 2023, I'd like to revisit what took place in Gaza in 950 BCE, some 3,000 years ago. Like then, we can find messages of hope even in dark times. 

In chapters 13-16 of Sefer Shoftim, we read the story of Shimshon (Samson). Shimshon was from the tribe of Dan. He was born a Nazarite and derived superhuman strength from that status. His tragic story ends in Gaza when he is captured by the Philistines, and his eyes are gouged out. When he is brought out to be mocked by his captors, Shimshon regains his strength and pulls down the pillars of the Philistine temple, killing himself as well as three thousand Philistines.

The Midrash teaches that Yaakov Avinu is alluding to this future tragedy in his blessing to Dan. (Bereishit 49:16-17) He concludes "Li'shuatecha keyveetey Hashem - Lord, I await your salvation." These words seem out of place, prompting the Sages to explain them as Yaakov's prayer on behalf of Dan's descendant, Shimshon. 

"Jacob called his sons together and said, 'Gather round so that I can explain to you what will happen to you in days to come.'" (Bereishit 49:1)

Before he dies, Yaakov provides his descendants with a last will, an ethical, spiritual will. He leaves them with wisdom, insight, and encouragement to remain strong no matter what the future may hold. He reminds his children - and their descendants - that, even in the bleakest moments of defeat - like that which Shimshon experiences in Gaza, we remain hopeful for God's salvation. 

They offer us comfort, hope, and strength and provide a path to overcome the painful losses suffered in Gaza.

Before going into battle, soldiers are encouraged to write letters to their families should the worst occur and they not return. Several families publicized these powerfully moving words of their sons who fell in battle. These represent a "last will" from Gaza for all of us. They are modern-day versions of the last will Yaakov left for his children. They provide a path to overcome the painful losses suffered in Gaza. 

Ben Zussman, 22, was killed in Gaza on December 3. (He's a relative of a number of JCAB families.) 

“I am writing this message to you on my way to the base. If you are reading this, something has probably happened to me. As you know me, there’s probably no one happier than me right now. I was just about to fulfill my dream soon. I am grateful for the privilege to defend our beautiful land and the people of Israel.

Even if something happens to me, I don’t allow you to sink into sadness. I had the privilege to fulfill my dream and my destiny, and you can be sure that I am looking down on you with a big smile. Perhaps I’ll sit next to Grandfather and bridge some gaps. Each one will share their experiences and what has changed between wars, and we’ll talk a bit about politics, and I’ll ask him for his opinion.

If, God forbid, you are sitting shiva, turn it into a week of friends, family, and joy. Have food, definitely meat, beer, sweet drinks, seeds, tea, and of course, Mom’s cookies. Laugh, listen to stories, meet all my friends you haven’t seen yet. Seriously, I envy you. I would like to be there to see everyone.

Another very, very important point. If, God forbid, I fall captive, alive or dead, I am not willing for a soldier or civilian to be harmed because of any deal for my release. I do not allow you not to conduct a campaign or protest or anything like that. I am not willing for terrorists to be released in exchange for me. In no way, shape, or form. Please do not twist my words.

I’ll say it again; I left home without even being called up to reserve duty. I am filled with pride and a sense of duty, and I always said that if I have to die, I hope it will be in defense of others and the country. (From the song Guards of the Walls) ‘Jerusalem, I have placed the guards’ (Yishayahu 62:6), that the day will come when I will be one of them."

How can one not be moved by such words?

Just two days ago, Yosef Gitratz, age 25, was killed in battle. Here is his letter to his parents:

"Dear Mom and Dad, 

I love you so much. Everything is as it should be. I chose it. I lived a good and interesting life, and at the same time I was never afraid of death. 

I could hide and I could choose not to come here. But that would contradict everything that I believe and value and who I consider myself to be. I would do the same again and again. I made this choice myself and followed it to the end. I fell honorably for my people. I have no regrets. 

I love you very much and I am proud that you are my parents. You gave me a lot. I had a very interesting, full, happy, unique life. My death only emphasizes that. You certainly feel a lot of pain. But you will overcome it. Please find something positive in all of this. Be with the grandchildren. Help Israel."

Both these messages are only being read due to terribly sad circumstances. Both of these messages request - demand - that we carry forward. These messages from Gaza speak to the heroic character of their authors. 

Am Yisrael is blessed with so many heroes. We need to heed the messages of hope and strength and perseverance from Gaza past and present. We need to continue to live, to celebrate, to eat meat and drink beer, to find the positive, and to help Israel. 

That is how we will find salvation. 

The Power to Forgive & of Being Forgiven

Iris Haim whose son Yotam was mistakenly killed by IDF troops, meets a soldier from the battalion involved in the shooting

It is a heartbreaking story that kept getting even worse.

Last Friday night, IDF troops mistakenly identified three Israeli hostages in northern Gaza’s Shejaiya neighborhood as a threat and opened fire at them, killing them - Yotam Haim, who was abducted by Hamas, Samar Fouad Talalka, and Alon Shamriz. Details emerge of the three emerging from a building with hands up and a makeshift white flag. The IDF quickly took responsibility for the proper conduct not being followed, but that can be little consolation.

As if this nightmare isn’t enough, we find out that the men, who escaped their captors and had even written out a sign in Hebrew identifying themselves. To twist the knife even more, one of the IDF dogs from its canine unit encountered the men several days earlier, but none of this information made it to the soldiers in the field. So close to freedom, yet, instead, a tragedy of immense proportions impacting the lives of so many.

I cannot even imagine the pain and suffering of the families of those killed. I cannot imagine the anguish, guilt, and trauma felt by the soldiers who pulled the trigger. “Ein millim.” There are no words or rationales or explanations that can come close to making sense of any of this. There is no “normal” response.

And yet…a message of strength, love, and forgiveness.

Iris Haim, Yotam’s mother, sent a voice message to the soldiers involved. (You can listen HERE.)

“This is Iris Haim. I am Yotam’s mother. I wanted to tell you that I love you very much, and I hug you here from afar. I know that everything that happened is absolutely not your fault, and nobody’s fault except that of Hamas, may their name be wiped out and their memory erased from the earth.

I want you to look after yourselves and to think all the time that you are doing the best thing in the world, the best thing that could happen, that could help us. Because all the people of Israel and all of us need you healthy. And don’t hesitate for a second if you see a terrorist. Don’t think that you killed a hostage deliberately. You have to look after yourselves because only that way can you look after us.

At the first opportunity, you are invited to come to us, whoever wants to. And we want to see you with our own eyes and hug you and tell you that what you did — however hard it is to say this, and sad — it was apparently the right thing at that moment. And nobody’s going to judge you or be angry. Not me, and not my husband Raviv. Not my daughter Noya. And not Yotam, may his memory be blessed. And not Tuval, Yotam’s brother. We love you very much. And that is all.”

That is all? That is a lot.

On Thursday, one of the soldiers involved from the Bislamach Brigade’s 17th Battalion, paid a visit to Iris Haim. He said, “We received your message, and since then we have been able to function again. Before that we had shut down.” Iris replied, “Amazing, that’s what I wanted” and offered more moral support to the soldiers if needed.

The episode is so dark and sad, yet, at the same time, there is postscript of “don’t be so sad that you cannot go on.” The first person to relay this message was Yosef. (Bereishit 45:2-5)

When Yosef revealed himself to his brothers, he cries out, “I am Yosef!” His brothers are speechless and shrink back from before him. Yosef realizes he may have come on too strong and starts again. He says more gently, “Come close.” The brothers warily come forward. Yosef begins again, “I am your brother Yosef who sold to Egypt.” Appreciating their shock, pain, and guilt, he adds, “Don’t be sad or angry with yourselves for selling me. God intended this to work out so I can save your lives.”

When confronted with their terrible behavior, the brothers could easily fall prey to their guilt or recriminations. Yosef came to forgive the unforgiveable and provide encouragement to move ahead to the next chapter.

What about us? We’re spectators to the tragedy of the Israeli hostages killed by soldiers. We can empathize with the pain and anger that all involved are feeling. For me, the strength of Iris Haim’s capacity to move forward while, at the same time, showing such love for those she had every right to hate is inspiring. Her words echoed Yosef’s simple admonition to his brothers, “al tei’atzvu – don’t be sad.”  

We have the ability – through a word or an arm over the shoulder - to heal, help, or even bring people back to life.

Chanukah Never Ends

There is something beautiful about the last night of Chanukah. All the candles are lit. It feels like the Festival of Light has reached its full potential. The full menorahs challenge us to strive to reach ours.

Maybe the end of Chanukah is only the beginning.

In Chasidic thought, there is the idea of “Zot Chanukah – Zot v’od acheret - This has been Chanukah, but there is more of to come.” As Chanukah ends, there is a directive that it cannot end with Chanukah or with how Chanukah was observed this year. As the Bnei Yissachar, Rabbi Tzvi Elimelech of Dinov, explains the name Chanukah is from the Hebrew word of chinuch, which means to educate or prepare. Chanukah has been preparing us – training us - for what comes next.

What comes next? What are we preparing for?

We are very familiar with the Talmudic rule that, ideally, the candles should be lit outside, but in times of danger, they can be lit inside on the table. If this is the case, why don’t we light outside anymore? Despite the rise in antisemitism, do we really fear lighting Chanukah candles outside? Why has this required ritual fallen out of practice?

Some answer that once we moved the Chanukah lights inside, that became the new normal, and we never brought them back outside. Others suggest the weather had something to do with continuing to light inside. The cold and wind allowed the lights to remain indoors – even if one finds oneself in balmier climates.

Rabbi Yosef Zvi Rimon provides an illuminating insight based on a teaching of the Sefat Emet. We want to disseminate a great light; we want to transmit our messages to everyone. However, to influence the outside world, we need to first build our internal world. We must first gather all our inner strengths before we can go outside in a serious and profound way. Put differently, lighting Chanukah candles inside for 8 nights has been our training for continuing to bring light to the darkness even after Chanukah.

We may no longer be lighting, but we still need to bring the light.

On this week’s parsha, the Sefat Emet expands upon this idea:

“Parshat Mikeitz – and this whole time of year – teaches us the value of preparation. We must prepare ourselves with the holiness revealed to us this time of year. We must deeply internalize all the light we see and feel so that it we continue to benefit from its illumination during the dark times which will sure follow in which the light is hidden.”

Zot v’od acheret. Take a long look at the fully lit menorah. Take a mental snapshot. Carry that beauty and inspiration forward for the many nights on which there won’t be any lighting.

While writing this, I saw a video of worshippers evacuating the Kotel plaza during Kabbalat Shabbat services. The darkness is returning, but we cannot let the light go out. It has been 70 days since the war in Israel began. From both a military and resilience standpoint, we cannot think that we’re near the finish line. We need lots of light to keep penetrating the darkness.

Chanukah is all about the survival, continuity, and relevance of Judaism throughout the ages. Chanukah also provided us an opportunity – a powerful opportunity – to illuminate our homes, our souls, and our families and give us strength to light up our world.

While Chanukah is ending, let us keep the light – the light of Torah, the light of Judaism, the light of chesed, and the light within our souls – shining.

It may be getting dark outside, but the light of Chanukah – the light we’ve lit over Chanukah – shines on.

The Gift of Presence

 

 It’s funny because it’s true. 

Who hasn’t found themselves in the situation of frantically seeking a charger or outlet as the “Battery Low” message appears or as the little green battery image turns red? In our family, it’s a competition: whoever has the least battery left gets the charger first. A small amount of oil lasting eight days? Sounds ancient. My phone going eight days on one charge? A miracle!

These days, with so many distractions, we are not present enough. We need to appreciate the gift of presence. The value of quiet, focused attention is built into the Chanukah lights.

Each night, after lighting the candles, we proclaim: "Ein lanu reshut l'hishtameish bahem ela lir'otam bilvad - we have no permission to use the candles for mundane purposes; their only purpose is to be watched.” How awesome would it be if the only thing we do after lighting the candles is to be fully focused on the lights and those around us?

A few years ago, I came across an initiative entitled “This Chanukah, Go Screen Free for 30”. The idea is to put away the phones and avoid screens for the first 30 minutes after kindling the Chanukah lights. While we may enjoy scrolling while watching the Chanukah lights, the project reminds us that our presence might be the best present we can give.

There is a power to our presence. Physical or not.

When Yosef went looking for his brothers in Dotan, a “man” asks him what he seeks. Yosef responds “et achai anochi mevakeish – I seek my brothers” (Bereishit 37:16). I have always found these words very powerful. On a simple level, it is impressive that Yosef went on this mission in the first place. His brothers hated him. When Yaakov asks that he check on them, I understand that Yosef had to listen to his father and seek them out. But when he couldn’t find them, he could have turned back with a good excuse. So, Yosef’s perseverance deserves mention. On a deeper level, these words resonate beyond a momentary mission. They reverberate until this very day as a command to us: Seek out your brothers! Can’t find them? Look harder.

Rabbi David Leifer of Nadvorna explains Yosef’s reply not as “I am looking for my brothers,” but rather “I am looking for brotherhood.” Even though it is dangerous here, I am willing to take that risk to make peace and create unity. One of the speakers at the dedication of Yeshivat Chachmei Lublin expressed the goal of the new institution by interpreting “et achai anochi mevakeish” to mean “With my brothers I seek God.” Our eternal mission is to seek out our brothers and sisters so we can seek out God together. We should make our presence felt by others so we can all experience the Divine presence together.

 

I find the power of presence especially powerful as we connect with Israel today. There is such a power of presence – ours and theirs – which resonates.

This war can feel so personal and intimate for us in the diaspora. I felt this powerfully in former IDF Chief of Staff Gadi Eisenkot’s son, Gal Meir, falling in battle, one of 93 soldiers killed in the ground operation in Gaza. In our community, two soldiers in one extended family have been killed in action. This is personal to many with whom we are connected. Yet, something about a former IDF head and cabinet minister losing his son on the battlefield makes this seem intimate. Everyone in Israel is in this together, and I feel that extending to me even in the diaspora.

Our presence can also be a powerful gift for those in Israel.

The JCAB Israel Emergency Fund contributed to projects to enhance the Chanukah joy and spirit for those affected by the war. One of those projects provided thousands of sufganiyot (donuts) to schoolchildren in Kiryat Gat. Another initiative was to enable a large Chanukah lighting in Ofakim and to distribute candles to citizens in Ofakim and IDF soldiers stationed on the Gaza border and inside the strip. A third project was to provide gifts for families in Mitzpe Yericho whose fathers are serving in the IDF Reserves and gift cards for the wives and mothers. (You can see some pictures and messages HERE.) We’re making our presence felt in Israel this Chanukah!

Here is a note from one of the recipients:

“To the incredible people who were part of this amazing project, thank you so much for the gifts! The kids were over the moon excited. They kept asking who the gifts were from and I told them that people from America who don’t even know us donated money to get these gifts for them because their Abba is in the army. They couldn’t believe that people would do such an incredible chesed without even knowing us. I can’t even explain how touched I was when I found out that a bag full of gifts was waiting for us. This week leading up to Chanukah has been filled with so much anxiety about if and when my husband would be able to come home for candle lighting and how I would manage to make Chanukah special for the kids all on my own. But when I saw the message about these presents, I started to cry as I realized even if my husband isn’t home, I’m not alone this Chanukah. There are Jews from all over who are with us and supporting us through this challenging time. With every present we opened we felt the love and support and it gave us so much strength go into this Chanukah with filled with joy despite the challenges. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.”

Growing up, every NCSY event I attended included a quote from a Rabbi in Maryland: “Never underestimate the power of your presence” We have that power. Let’s keep giving – and receiving – the gift of presence.

A Beracha on the Rally? The Rally Was a Beracha

How many people were going to show up?

From the time I heard a mass rally for Israel was being planned, the question was on my mind. I discussed it with family and friends. There were 250,000 at the Soviet Jewry rally in 1987. 100,000 showed up in 2002 to support for Israel. Maybe we make it interesting and get a betting pool started.

The march organizers, however, deliberately kept attention away from how many would attend. “This rally isn’t about numbers. It’s about supporting Israel.” The press reported that the organizers’ application for a permit was for a space holding 60,000 people. That’s it?!?

Well, we know that, in the end, 300,000 people showed up for Israel. It was the largest Jewish rally in history and one of the largest gatherings in DC ever.

Leading up to the event, I thought there would be a big showing. I even wondered if maybe – maybe – there would be a large enough attendance to recite a beracha.

The Shulchan Aruch states the law (OC 224:5):

“One who sees 600,000 Jews together says the blessing of “Chacham Ha-razim,” which acknowledges God as the One who knows secrets.

While the rally attendance fell short of there being a requirement to recite the beracha, let’s try to understand this blessing - and maybe find a different one present in Tuesday’s event.

A few questions: 

1)  Why is 600,000 people the threshold?

2)  Why is the language of the blessing centered around God as the “Knower of secrets?”

3)  Has this beracha ever been recited?

The 600,000 number represent the Jewish People. It’s the number of Jews who left Egypt and stood at Sinai. It is the number that defines a “rabbim,” a multitude or the public in Jewish law. It is a Jewish way of saying “everybody.”

The blessing refers to God as the “knower of secrets” because when confronting a mass of humanity, one notices just how different each individual is. Think of the expression “two Jews; three opinions.” It connotes the idea that each of us has our own (or even multiple) views. Well, if you have 600,000 Jews together, there is a heck of a lot of individuality in one place. Rather than being impressed by the mass of people or calling this a crowd, we should be in awe that God created so many individuals and only God knows the uniqueness of each. That is a “secret” humans cannot fully understand.

In March 2014, there was a huge prayer gathering in Jerusalem. The crowd was expected to be over 600,000, so rabbis dealt with the question of reciting the beracha of “Chacham HaRazim” in advance. They addressed other complexities of the law. Is there a certain area that needs to contain the crowd? Do you have to see all 600,000 to say the blessing? That may man only reciting the beracha with an aerial view. One rabbi had the winning suggestion: Read the law out of the Shulchan Aruch as it contains the entire text of the beracha. That way even if there was no obligation to recite the blessing, the words would be recited anyway!

What about Tuesday?

Well, we exceeded expectations and made history, but we fell short of the obligation for a beracha. At the same time, we did see a lot of individuality within the unity of purpose on the National Mall. There was palpable sense of togetherness as people from different places and persuasions all came together to stand with Israel. Only God knows the secret in each heart, but we saw the power of our people coming together.

Some rabbis explain the beracha of “Chacham HaRazim” as being recited over the Divine presence that is manifest when 600,000 Jews are in one place. Following the rally, several commented that there were 300,000 rally attendees and 300,000 IDF reservists. On Tuesday, there were 600,000 individuals united for Israel. This was a Kiddush Hashem that testifies to the power of truth and justice.  

There may not have been an obligation to recite a blessing, but Tuesday was a blessing. May that blessing continue to inspire, protect, and propel to victory all who fight for Israel.

When the Jews March on Washington

Tuesday, November 14, 2023, will go down in history as a good day for bus companies.

It will also be the day that, hopefully, hundreds of thousands of Jews and our allies make a powerful statement on the National Mall in Washington, DC in support of Israel, against antisemitism, and to bring home the 240 innocent hostages held by Hamas terrorists. (All who can, MUST be there!)

This is not something that Jews do regularly, but, sometimes, it must be done.

The first Jewish march on Washington was on October 6, 1943. Three days before Yom Kippur, more than four hundred Orthodox rabbis marched to the White House to plead with President Franklin D. Roosevelt to rescue European Jews from the Nazis. The rally was the brainchild of 33-year-old Hillel Kook, a Jerusalem-born nephew of Rabbi Abraham Isaac Kook, who arrived in the United States in 1940 and took the Americanized name Peter Bergson. He led a group of activists whose mission was to draw attention to the murder of Jews in Europe and the reluctance of the British to let them escape to Palestine. The president refused the rabbis’ request to hand him their petition. FDR’s Jewish advisers denounced the protesters. Prominent Jewish leaders urged them to cancel the march and some publicly condemned them. Why did the march provoke such criticism? Why did the rabbis persevere?

Rafi Medoff noted various rationales for opposing the Rabbis’ march. Politically, meeting with the rabbis would legitimate their request, while snubbing them would keep their issue from gaining any traction. Jewish opposition came from the discomfort Americanized Jews had for their more traditional brothers. A prominent Jewish member of Congress, Representative Sol Bloom (D-New York), urged the rabbis to call off the march on the grounds that “it would be very undignified for a group of such un-American looking people to appear in Washington.”

Medoff posits that the very fact there was strong opposition from Jewish quarters convinced the rabbis their strategy made sense. They marched “precisely because their view of the place of Jews in American society was so different from that of their critics.” While many Jews worried what America would think of their standing up for their particularistic issue, the rabbis cared about one thing: saving Jews.

And their effort bore fruit. Building on the publicity from the march, Bergson’s friends in Congress introduced a resolution asking FDR to create an agency that would find ways to provide refuge for those Jews who remained under Nazi rule. As part of the effort, Treasury Secretary Henry Morgenthau drew up a report for the president revealing the State Department’s efforts to make Jewish immigration to the U.S. almost impossible. Within days, FDR established the War Refugee Board, which during the final year of the Holocaust was responsible for the rescue of thousands of Jews and increasing Jewish immigration to America.

During World War Two, the Orthodox rabbis and their allies were in the minority. By 1987, things had changed. 

On December 6, 1987, an estimated 250,000 participants gathered on the National Mall  for “Freedom Sunday for Soviet Jews,” calling on Mikhail Gorbachev to extend his policy of Glasnost to Soviet Jews by putting an end to their forced assimilation and allowing their emigration from the Soviet Union. The rally was organized by a coalition of Jewish organizations, and it was reported by the JTA to be the "largest Jewish rally ever held in Washington.”

What changed?

In a word (or number): 1967

Israel’s victory in the Six Day War, coming during a time in which people were expressing pride in identity, was key to American Jews shaking off the cobwebs of assimilationist tendencies. The community - both in Israel and more broadly - was coming to terms with the Holocaust as survivors started telling their stories and the world was transfixed by the Adolf Eichmann trial. This increased focus on the horrors of the Shoah shone a spotlight on the danger of silence. A new stronger, louder Jewish identity became acceptable. As Rabbi Haskel Lookstein often says, “Before 1967, Jews were akin to question marks – stooped, bowed, lacking confidence. After 1967, Jews became exclamation marks – ramrod straight, confident, and loud.”

This new confidence paired well with Jewish “smarts” of how to make an impact. The rally was planned at a time when Gorbachev would be in America. Among the speakers was Vice President George H.W. Bush, who echoed the words of President Reagan at the Berlin Wall, saying "Mr. Gorbachev, let these people go. Let them go." Historian Henry L. Feingold noted that the rally “demonstrated that public relations techniques to focus attention on the plight of Soviet Jewry had become a formidable skill developed by the American Soviet Jewry movement.”

The Jewish community realized the power of a public statement, knew how to make one, and had the confidence to show up.

Fifteen years later, it was time for another statement.

On April 16, 2002, upwards of 100,000 people rallied in front of the Capitol on one week's notice. This was at the height of the Second Intifada with Israel responding to horrific terrorism. In familiar fashion, the world called on Israel to show restraint, and the organized Jewish community, led by the Conference of Presidents of Major American Jewish Organizations, decided to do something. There had been criticism from both Israeli officials and the Jewish grassroots for a perceived lack of visibility, so the community responded.

There were all kinds of signs and messages that day, but, for many, there was a need to be surrounded by lovers of Israel. One participant noted, “I just wanted to experience this feeling of standing with all these Jews, who might not feel the same way about the conflict, but who can agree that Israel has a right to exist as a Jewish state.”

Why the reluctance to rally?

In the years between 1987 and 2002, the culture changed. There was a national trend in the weakening of social connections, the “Bowling Alone” phenomenon. Many Americans placed less stock in organized groups. While this may sound strange to Orthodox Jews whose lives are lived within a very specific congregation and community, large gatherings were less impressive to those outside such existing groups. At the same time, Jewish organizations felt an impact could be made through statements made by leaders of the community. A press conference attended by government officials, media celebrities, and known thought or religious leaders might attract similar attention as a large rally. In the shrinking attention spans of Americans, the emphasis should be on creating the memorable moment alongside relationships with powerful allies, rather than “historic” gatherings in Washington.

To rally or not to rally? Who’s right?

As war in Israel continues, calls for rallies started to be heard again. There have been, of course, impressive local efforts including tens of thousands of attendees in New York City and large gatherings in other locales – including hundreds right here in Atlantic Beach. Yet, this war is different. It was preceded by a terrorist attack that will go down in history as Israel’s 9/11. Regardless of how effective the community’s strategy in defending Israel, winning over Congressional allies, and garnering support from the White House, how can we not make a strong statement in our nation’s capital? How about the loud, angry pro-Palestinian rallies? Don’t we have a response? Natan Sharansky, the hero of the Soviet Jewry movement, called for a national rally, and the Jewish community is responding.

We have a rally.

And while all or some of the above reasons have led to Tuesday’s march for Israel, I think it is the culmination of all the variables and lessons learned from Washington rallies over the past 80 years. We rally from a position of strength to make a statement in our nation’s capital while Congress is in session (that’s why the rally is on Tuesday and not on Sunday) to declare that Israel is our ally in the fight for democracy, that innocent hostages deserve to be free, and that antisemitism is an ugly hatred that has no place in America. Whether it is wise to rally or not, we’re coming together to be surrounded by other lovers of Israel, of America, of freedom, of humanity, and of decency. We know that plenty of lesser gatherings or activities garner media attention and likes and clicks, but we must make a show of force and strength in numbers.

Like they declared back at Solidarity Sunday marches for Soviet Jewry, “We are Jews; we couldn’t be prouder. If you can’t hear us, we’ll shout a little louder!”

Yachad Nenatzei'ach - Together We Will Win!

During three powerful days in Israel, I saw pain, sadness, confusion, kindness, purpose, heroism, and unity.

The slogan for this war is "Yachad Nenatzei'ach," which means "Together, we will win." It is plastered everywhere - on streets, on buildings and in the corner of all TV broadcasts. In a sense, there is more unity than Israelis - and Jews in general - have experienced in a long while. Unity is a key to moving forward to the next chapter of the State of Israel and the Jewish people. 

 

During the First World War, Rabbi Yissachar Dov Rokeach, the Belzer Rebbe, was approached by a group of elder Chasidim to declare that repentance alone can remedy the harsh troubles the Jews were experiencing. They were hoping such a statement would implicitly condemn the non-observant. The Rebbe refused stating, “The main thing is that Jews should love one another…This is what our salvation depends on.”

 

Here are some reflections of my experiences.

Shortly after checking in on Monday, I got a taste of reality. An announcement on the hotel PA system of a rocket alert and to head towards a protected area of the hotel. I know some people who were out for lunch. They heard similar announcements and were directed to the nearest shelter before the all-clear allowed them to finish their meal.

           

I am pleased to be in Israel at the same time as my brother, the other Rabbi Weinstock from Hollywood, Florida. We both have sons in their second year of study at Yeshivot in Israel. I’m proud of the boys who have kept up their schedule of Torah study and Chesed activities. As I’ve mentioned, it’s all part of our wartime responsibilities.

I spent some time studying at Yeshivat Netiv Aryeh in the Old City and got to see some of our AB scholars. I went to the Kotel for prayers. I call it my “Jerusalem office” and took advantage of a few quiet minutes to contact and thank elected officials for their strong support of Israel straight from the scene.

When leaving the Kotel, I encountered an interesting group gathered in the back of the plaza. There was a group of older reservists along with families. There was a man making announcements thanking the soldiers and someone playing inspirational songs on the guitar. The groups commander made a few remarks and then everyone sang Hatikvah to end the program.

I went up to the guitarist, told him I had just come from America and asked what was going on. First, he thanked me for coming to support them. Then he explained the soldiers were part of a medical unit including doctors who were training in Jerusalem before heading to the front. The families were among those relocated to Jerusalem from the south. Their organization took them on day trips and arranged fun activities for the children and ended the day at the Kotel. I thought this was just one small group of hundreds of thousands of citizens like this and one initiative among thousands of people trying to help. I know I’ll see other examples during the next few days.

We started Tuesday at Shalva, an amazing organization that supports and empowers individuals with special needs and their families. They've opened their doors to displaced families in need of their expertise and they are prepared to host up to 1,000 people if need be. Zion Leshem introduced us to the families of Moshav Naveh, located 6 miles from Gaza and 2 miles from Egypt, who were evacuated on Oct. 9 and moved into the Shalom Hotel next door. Large families are cramped into small rooms, and Shalva has offered facilities for the families for classes and activities and to let them spread out a little.

Shalva also stepped up to host a group of girls from Eden Karmia on Kibbutz Karmia, a loving home near the Gaza Border for deeply traumatized teenage girls who have been removed from their families due to abuse and neglect. While, thankfully, they were not on site on 10/7, the only stability they know was destroyed and Shalva has given them a floor to recreate their safe space and get back to a routine. The gratitude from everyone was palpable. Shalva, as its name translates, is providing respite for people in need.

We visited the Jerusalem Command Center, a volunteer organization working to meet the needs of the over 30,000 evacuees in Jerusalem. What started with one table at Noon on Oct. 7, has grown to over 5,000 volunteers helping provide food, clothes, books, toys, and anything you can think of. The center - and those like it in other cities housing evacuees - is called a "Chamal," which stands for "cheder milchama," war room.

 

Great effort goes into maintaining people's dignity. People don't just want to be given boxes. People want to peruse and try on clothes or play with the toys a little before deciding to get them. So the Chamal set up a store with a special sign and "salespeople" to assist. Every person registers for assistance with an intake interview. Just because a person asks for baby formula doesn't mean that's all they need. The volunteers are trying to work as helpfully and effectively as possible. Chamal is a perfect name for this effort. As chamal in Hebrew means compassion. That's what's being offered in abundance.

We traveled to Kibbutz Ma'ale HaHamisha near Jerusalem where evacuees from Netiv Ha'asara and Zikim near Gaza are staying in the hotel there. Both communities fought off terrorists and suffered losses on 10/7. Rivka, who has lived in Netiv Ha'asara for 32 years, and Yael, a mother of three whose husband was one of the first children born there told their harrowing stories from that "Black Sabbath." We know the broad outline of sirens, shelter, sounds of shooting, but it's different hearing directly from those who experienced it. Rivka told how her retired husband, who relinquished his rifle a few years ago, ventured out of the shelter to grab a knife and a baseball bat. Yael remained with her children and was joined by neighbors and in-laws while her husband joined the security group fighting off the terrorists. There is a lot of anger and pain along with gratitude.

We traveled to the Dead Sea. The Tamar Region has about 1,400 residents and is now housing about 15,000 evacuees. Many are from Sderot as well as one hotel hosting many of the families from Kibbutz Be'eri which suffered tremendous losses on 10/7. The goal is to provide some sense of normalcy and routine while also giving people some R&R. They're putting on concerts, arranging carnivals, and having celebrity visits.

The hotel hosting residents of Kibbutz Be'eri has turned into a community. They've created a memorial to those murdered and a vigil for those missing and captured. They're setting up spaces to process and mourn. Some are painting portraits of those murdered. There is profound and deep gratitude for our visit. During these difficult times, the hug of Jews from America is especially meaningful. I think it's a good time for anyone who can to consider a visit to Israel.

Rachel Goldberg and Jonathan Polin are the parents of Hersh Goldberg-Polin, who was attending the music festival that was attacked by terrorists on 10/7. As far as they know (and Anderson Cooper provided video footage), Hersh lost an arm in the attack and was seen getting on a truck, and his cell phone emitted a signal from Gaza. They have been working tirelessly to tell Hersh's story and enlist the world to bring him and all the hostages home. (You can learn all about these efforts by searching #BringHershHome.)

 

We know all too well the pain of these situations - Gilad Shalit, Hadar Goldin. When asked what we can do, Rachel responded:

- Pray for Hersh Ben Perel Chana

- Post about the hostages to raise awareness 

- Encourage others outside the Jewish community to do the same. This is a humanitarian issue with hostages from 30+ countries including 9 Muslim hostages.

 

Rachel said she gets asked over and over, "What's the update?" She answers, "There is no update!" Sometimes we must live with there being no progress while doing the best we can. She has started wearing a very visible sign with the number of days it has been since Hersh disappeared and encouraged others to intentionally count these days. She compared it to counting the omer or Rosh Chodesh. Keeping time is important and memorable. 

 

We concluded by reciting Tehillim 121, a favorite of Rachel's, and singing Acheinu together. Jon mentioned that when Hersh was in first grade in Jewish day school in Virginia, he always belted out Acheinu while encouraging those around him to put their arms around each other.

As the ground battle in Gaza escalates, 16 IDF soldiers have been killed in the campaign. We went to Har Herzl for the funeral of Staff Sgt. Lavi Lipshitz, 20, from Modiin, who served in the Givati Infantry Brigade’s reconnaissance unit. It was very crowded, and, it rained heavily as if the heavens were mourning. What can be said? A lovely kid, a hero, who died for Israel and the Jewish People. Yet his family carries forward to honor his sacrifice. Yehi Zichro Baruch.

 

We traveled to Yad Binyamin and visited with Rabbi Doron Perez, the head of Mizrachi, his soldier son Yonatan, and 15 year-old daughter Shira. Another son, Daniel, has been missing since fighting on 10/7. Yonatan, a paratrooper commander, was shot in the leg on 10/7. While recovering, he and his fiancé decided to go ahead with their planned wedding on October 17. He was returning to his unit tonight. When asked what gives him the strength and encouragement to go back to his unit after being wounded and getting married, he said it's "the unbelievable power and strength of Am Yisrael. I believe in my path and my role as a commander of 135 soldiers." He went on to say that's it's difficult to fight with rules and morals while the enemy doesn't value life. But that's what Jews do. 

Shira, a friend of our daughter Yakira from Camp Stone, said taking action is the best path forward. Teenagers should do things like acts of chesed or supporting community initiatives to stay positive about Israel. There's too much bad news out there online and on social media. Taking action provides clarity and strengthens love for Israel. Rav Doron concluded our visit by noting that "HaShem has given us a matana, an opportunity to change direction." This is a chance for us to be one nation. "People who affirm and love life and see the image of God in all humans will prevail over those who embrace death."

 

Our last stop Wednesday evening was with the Brothers for Life organization in Kfar Truman, about 20 minutes from the airport. The organization provides care and support for wounded soldiers. They engage with them from the time they are treated in the hospital and stick with them throughout the long road to recovery. Their job, unfortunately, is getting a lot bigger. We heard from formerly injured soldiers of how this brotherhood and support saved their lives as they went on to degrees, families, and productive lives. The slogan of the organization, carved in stone on the entrance, is "U'vacharta ba'chaim - Choose life" (Devarim 30:19). I can't think of a better motto for Israel and the Jewish nation. Despite it all - and even amidst the death and destruction, we choose life.

 

The UJA mission may have ended Wednesday evening, but I got to spend Thursday with a dear friend and Chesed machine Dr. Shilo Kramer who works at ADI Negev. Starting with a sunrise service at the Kotel, we made a number of stops witnessing, listening, volunteering, and even celebrating.

Our first stop was Ofakim in which terrorists murdered 50 Israelis. We drove along the route the terrorists traveled as they entered the village. Their decision to go one way and not the other meant a densely packed neighborhood of Orthodox Jews who were out celebrating Simchat Torah were spared. We saw the remnants of burned cars, bullet-riddled walls, and memorials to fallen heroes. One woman showed us the bullet that came through her bathroom wall. We saw the house in which Rachel stalled the terrorists for 20 hours until help arrived.

 

There was also joy at the Bar Mitzvah of Akiva Butzchak. His father, Rav Shachar, a rabbi in Ofakim, heroically battled the terrorists and was seriously wounded. Thank God, he recovered in time to enjoy the nachas and joy of the occasion with his family. JCAB had a share in the Simcha as our Israel Emergency Relief Fund contributed support and materials for the Ofakim Response Unit. 

 

Throughout our travels, we had a chance to meet with soldiers and distribute food, thanks, and love. They so appreciated all three and were very moved to be visited by Jews from America. I even met one chayal with family in Long Beach. It’s a small Jewish world!

The war has thrown a huge monkey wrench into the agricultural industry. Foreign workers are returning home with many others in the army and Palestinian laborers not a feasible option now. Volunteers are stepping forward but so much still needs to be done. At Moshav Patish, I had the chance to pitch in harvesting cabbages with a diverse group which included secular Jews from Tel Aviv, chareidim, and even Druze participants. It’s one Israel for all of us!