Another War? (Article# 102) 1/8/09

I wrote a whole bunch of introductions to this article. When it comes down to it, reality overwhelms anything I could have written. I had planned to write about our trip to Eilat (it was the first time for all of us except Goldie – who was in Eilat 20 years ago), but current events overwhelm my ability to focus on anything else.

When we originally made Aliyah, we were at an education seminar where one principal jokingly said that he defines the difference between an Oleh Chadash (new immigrant) and an Oleh Vatik (old – or experienced – immigrant) as their having lived through a war as citizens. No matter how recently you have arrived or how long you have been here, he argued, you aren’t really a part of the fabric of Israeli society until you have lived through a war. I guess this makes us real Sabras, since this is our second war in less than three years.

On our way back from Eilat we had a choice to make. The longer route (traveling via the Dead Sea Highway), added almost two hours to our trip, but totally avoided the rocket zone. The shorter route, which we had taken earlier in the week, took us past Beer Sheva and through Kiryat Gat, areas that were within the “danger zone” of rocket attacks.

After discussing the issue, we decided not to let ourselves be terrorized and chose to return the “normal” way home. We also felt that it would be important for our kids to get a small sense of what other children have to live through day after day. So we had a conversation with the kids about where we were going and how to act in case of a rocket alert and then headed home.

Batya was clearly spooked by the whole thing. She kept asking if we were in Beer Sheva yet and how long it would be until we got to Beer Sheva. Unfortunately, Batya is our most sensitive kid in these areas. When we talked about going on vacation, she made sure to pour over the details to make sure we weren’t sneaking to Sderot or “the North” (she is still spooked by the Lebanon war and thinks that the entire Northern region of Israel is still a warzone).

When we got to Beer Sheva, Batya put her head down and was terrified. As soon as the city was in the rearview mirror, I told Batya that we were past it and Mordechai chimed up “Good – now nobody is going to throw bombs on us.”

I know it seems foolhardy to put our family in the danger zone, but there is a point to be made, not to our enemy, but to ourselves. Yes, we have to take care of ourselves and avoid insane risks. But we also need to keep ourselves from allowing the terror to defeat us. We need to make personal statements that say, “I acknowledge the fear, but will not let it rule me.”

I fear that our military will end up having to withdraw before the job is done. Quite frankly, I cannot actually imagine how they will get the job done. How do you defeat an army that can vanish into the civilian population until you leave? We need to have certainty that we will be safe from rocket fire, but I have no clue how we can get it. Yet, and here is the real point, it seems that we often seem to end up at a place that is good for us, even if we didn’t think so in the first place.

There are difficult military and political maneuvers ahead of our country and I have no idea how they will turn out. But I do have faith that things are not left to chance and have seen too many things fall into perfect place (especially when they seemed to be at their worst) to think that there isn’t someone at the helm of the ship.

I worry more about individuals. My nephew. The dorm counselor from our Yeshiva who was called up for military reserve duty. The neighbor who had his reserve duty extended a few weeks. For these people there are no guarantees, and we seem to pay a heavy price, in blood, for the existence of our nation.

They show up for duty and are proud of their ability to serve our nation. They often are forbidden from sharing the details of what they are doing (the soldiers are having their cellphones taken away from them when they enter the warzone). My nephew had to lie to my sister (a mother always knows) about what he was doing (so far we aren’t aware if he has entered into Gaza). These are all real people and they have real families, families just like yours.

I have said it before, but it bears repeating. I DON’T CARE WHAT YOUR POLITICS ARE. You can believe in Israel or not. You can be non religious, modern orthodox, ultra orthodox or anywhere in between. It doesn’t make a difference when Jews are dying and need your support. We need you to daven for the safety of our soldiers, the same soldiers who protect you whenever you come to visit and ask nothing in return. Please remember this in shul this week when it comes time for the Mi Sheberach for the soldiers and have them all in your minds, hearts and prayers.

To end on a less somber note, I wanted to share two different “only in Israel” stories. In the first, Goldie and I were heading home after an engagement party. We were listening to the radio and the announcer said, “all you residents of the South, don’t you worry – stay tuned right here and we will tell you if there is an alert, no need to miss a minute of the music.” Goldie and I exchanged a look. It was a truly surreal moment, something we would never expect elsewhere.

Imagine our surprise when about a minute and a half later when the announcer came back on the air in the middle of a song to announce that the alert for Ashkelon had sounded and all residents of Ashkelon should immediately go to their shelters. The next time you listen to the radio, stop for a second and try to figure out what you would do if you needed to go to a shelter. Where you would go and how you would react if you were under this kind of constant threat.

We had a different tragedy in our Yeshiva this week. One of our Rabbeim lost his wife after a long illness. The family lives in the Yeshiva’s building and will be sitting shiva there all week. We have known that this was coming, but it still is not an easy thing to deal with.

As part of the arrangements, we had to notify the police about the shiva so that they would not give out parking tickets to those who came to console the mourners. Our administrator called them up and told the person who answered the phone what she needed. The response? “I am not the right person to talk to and I will transfer you to them. But I want to tell you first that I share your pain.”

That extra sentence is what makes Israel such a special place. The sense of community and belonging that we share. As Jews, we generally feel excluded from that feeling in other countries. Not here. Please daven that we get to keep being this way.

Mazal Tov to former 5 Towners and our current neighbors Mark and Yosefa Krauss on the engagement of their son Gavi. Mazal Tov also to Miriam Pinsky (who stayed with us for Shabbat a couple times when she was here for the year) on her engagement. And a very special Mazal Tov to our steady Friday morning double date couple, Tzippy and Dani Lieberman on the birth and Brit of their son Uziel.