The Meaning of Service (Article# 116) 5/14/2009

Although I have already written about our Yom HaZikaron (Memorial Day) experiences last week, my sister related a story about my nephew to me late last week that I want to share.

As you know, my nephew Yonatan is currently in the middle of his military service. Although his assignments change regularly, he is currently stationed either in Gaza or at the Gaza border, and you can understand that his parents and family are quite concerned for his well-being.

He comes home for Shabbat every few weeks and is occasionally given a couple of days off during the week as well. As it happened, he came home for an overnight visit the night of Yom HaZikaron and then had to leave quite early the next morning to what my sister thought was a routine company memorial assembly. It was only days later that he told her where he had gone.

Each year on Yom HaZikaron, the active members of the unit are assigned (in pairs) to visit the graves of the soldiers from that division who had been killed in action. They are given a biography of the soldier as well as family member information so that they can greet the family members (who almost always visit the graves on Yom HaZikaron) and offer their personal support or condolences.

I think the soldier whose grave they were assigned had been killed in the Yom Kippur war. That means that every year for 35+ years, two (different) soldiers have visited the grave to support and comfort the family. I do not know whether this policy holds true for every company in every division of our military or only for the company in which my soldier serves, but it says something about the value we place upon our servicemen and women and the sacrifice that some of them make.

Later in the week I got a copy of an e-mail that was sent by one of my relatives to his parents in the USA. He has been on his “gap year” in a yeshiva and had decided (with his parents approval) to stay for a second year as well. However, he does not feel that even this second year will be enough to quench the thirst within him, and he sent them the following e-mail:

Being a Jew, a son of the Avos and Imahos, one carries responsibility and the history of his nation with him. Being the Am Segulah (Chosen Nation) entails many things, one of which is that from the beginning of time till the end of time we will always be around.

We have seen Pharaohs come and go, Bavel come and go, Greece and the Romans come and go, Persia come and go. We have withstood the Crusades, blood libels, pogroms, and myriads of massacres. We have seen the sheker of Christianity, since its origin, lead to untold deaths of our people and of course the most recent, the terrors of the Shoah.

Yet throughout all these catastrophes, the horror of each of which it is impossible to relate to, there is one common denominator—“Am Yisrael Chai.”

Yes, of course on the individual level hundreds of thousands of millions of Jews died, but nationally we are here and flourishing.

For over 2,000 years since the Churban Bayis Sheini the Jews have been ripping their hearts apart in tears to return to Eretz Yisrael. Every single day a Jew prays to return to Israel, to rebuild Yerushalayim, and for Kibutz Galuyos—at least three times a day. Those 2,000 years of prayers started to be openly answered in 1948.

In 1948, the geulah started to openly unfold. The people exiled for 2,000 years returned to their homeland. What an unbelievable event. One can’t put into words the awesomeness of that event.

The world watched the Jew wander the earth for centuries. The Jew was beaten many times along the away, was near death at points, but the Jew never forgot where he was going. The Jew was walking with a “guide” (G-d) who promised him that he will make it back to his homeland against all odds. The Jew made many stops along the way, but whenever he got too settled and comfortable in one area, the Guide would remind him, at a cost, that he must not forget where he came from and to where he is going.

In 1948 the Jew made it home, and in 1948 the history of the Jew and the history of the world started wrapping itself up. In 2009, sixty-one years later, we can see history wrapping itself up and we hear the footsteps of Moshiach.

From the prophecies to the midrashim we can see their fulfillment in front of our eyes. I walk in the Rova and see the fulfillment of Zechariah’s vision of children playing in the streets of Yerushalayim.

I see the fulfillment of what the navi said, that when the Jews are exiled Israel will not bear its fruit; all one has to do now is to open the window of his home in Israel to see the beautiful forests and gardens.

With all the midrashim about B’nei Yishmael and other hundreds of sources, could it be more obvious that we are only moments away from the ultimate Geulah?

That being said, one must ask himself: “What role do I want to take in this wrapping up of history?” A Jew can no longer only think individually. He must think for the K’lal, for Am Yisrael. Now more than ever, one must gear his life on the question of: “What could I do for K’lal Yisrael now?”

A Jew can’t be self-centered and just care about what is best for him. That’s not the way a Jew thinks. At a time when there is the opportunity to live in Israel again, when there is more Torah learning in Israel than ever, where there is a Jewish army for the first time since Bayis Sheini, individuals must start thinking as one united nation. There is no space for the selfish in the Jewish Nation.

It is mind boggling that Hashem gave us Eretz Yisrael and there are still millions of Jews in the galus. What do they think about when they say the words “U’veneih Yerushalayim” in davening three times a day, or sing “L’shanah haba’ah” at the Seder?

“Next year in Yerushalayim—as long as we could stay comfortable and get rid of those rude Israelis.”

“We are too comfortable here in galus; it’s too hard to move to Israel.”

What small thinking. In Jewish history, have the Jews ever stayed in one place for too long? A true Jew, by definition, yearns to live in Eretz Yisrael. People in the galus are too comfortable for geulah.

What a z’chus to live during such a time. The questions I ask myself are: “What role do I want to play in the geulah?” “What have I done for K’lal Yisrael?”

The answer for that is—nothing yet. Yes, of course I am at a young age where there is only so much one can do for a nation, but I am at a pivotal point in my life where I can choose the path I take for the rest of my life, until my death.

So here is the question: “What will I do for K’lal Yisrael?” Hopefully many things bs”d, but one thing I can do now (as in the next few years) is join the Jewish army.

I want to take part in protecting and fighting for Am Yisrael, the same way Yehoshua’s army and the Chash­monaim did in our past. I wish with all my being to join Tzahal. I yearn with every inch of my body to fight for my country, my people, and my heritage.

What’s the difference between me and a Dudik Perez from Haifa? Is my blood any redder? I desire with my whole heart to join my brothers and fight right beside them. I feel it is my duty. They are Jewish and so am I.

What a great message and an inspiration. I do not know that this young man will end up following this dream and serving in the army; this decision is more than a year away. However, I do know that his sentiment and his emotion represent what I believe that we need more of.

This past Shabbat we had the privilege of joining our dear friends and former neighbors Gabe and Anat Levi for the celebration of the Bar Mitzvah of their son David in Yerushalayim. We are always thrilled to join our friends for their smachot here.

This simcha was additionally special. Gabe and Anat went out of their way repeatedly during Goldie’s illness to give us guidance, comfort, and support. They would kill me if I went into further detail, but I am grateful to have the opportunity to publicly thank Gabe and Anat for their kindness and support and wish them and their family a huge Mazal Tov.