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.