What Makes Israelis Unique: Reflections on a Trip to Israel During the Hamas - Israel War
I spent the last week in Israel on a YU/RCA/Mizrachi trip for rabbis. Before I left, I was worried. I thought to myself, we are all feeling so much doom and anxiety and to fly to the heart of it will, no doubt, be deeply disturbing. But just the opposite was true. Instead of hopelessness and helplessness, Israelis spoke of optimism, joy and purpose, and a deep sense of unity and loyalty to fellow citizens in need.
For instance, we traveled to the South of Israel to Kfar Aza, which was devastated by the horrific attack. In extreme cruelty, the terrorists slaughtered dozens of neighbors. One section of the kibbutz, about 20 small houses, was reserved for young professionals. The terrorists killed all of them except one, a 23-year-old woman named Ireen. She and her boyfriend went to a safe room for protection from the sirens, and the terrorists, as was their MO, threw grenades into the safe room. Two exploded without harming them severely, but a third landed next to them. Ireen’s boyfriend threw himself on the grenade to save her life and she played dead until the terrorists left. She told us this story in the midst of the wreckage, standing next to her boyfriend’s mother. When I asked what their plans were, they said, “to return and to rebuild.” We were told by some that the name of the area which is now referred to as the “Gaza envelope” will be changed to “Tikumah” or “Rising up.”
What is it that gives the Jewish people in Israel this profound resilience? I will suggest a few things from my observations:
Family and Community
In Ofakim, a small city in the South which was attacked by 16 terrorists, we met with a woman named Michal. Her brother and his son had been among those who died defending the town. But her story was not only about destruction; mostly, it was about her upbringing as a child in a family of seven Moroccan children who grew up in a small house in Ofakim. She stressed that their door was always open, that generations lived near each other and neighbors were like family and still are. Her older neighbor told the story of her own family’s escape onto a roof where they hid for hours as a terrorist killed her son who did not get out the window in time, but, she said, of course we will return to our home. It is also the place of our good memories, of our Simchot (our joyous times).
And over and over, the same stories of giving, of family, of nation, of neighborhood. Compared to America’s epidemic of isolation and self-involvement, the contrast in Israel was stark. These values and this culture were there before this tragedy and I think it is a large part of what has not only kept them going, but has paradoxically enabled Israel to become even stronger and more unified.
National Unity
The stories of unity are ubiquitous. On our first day we visited a hi-tech office building in Tel Aviv, four floors of which had been donated by a tech company for operations being run by volunteers (what is called in Israel a “war room”). This one of over 1000 volunteers is solely focused on the 240 hostages and their families. Every march for them, sign and artwork in their honor, are all coordinated by volunteers in this “war room.” In addition, these volunteers tend to the needs of the hostages’ families. Rooms are set aside for several different kinds of therapy for the suffering families, and they are given clothing, food and whatever else they need.
The volunteerism cuts across all sectors of the society—religious, secular, Zionist, Charerdi, etc. There are “war rooms” of Charedim which have emerged to help resettle some of the hundreds of thousands of displaced Israelis from the South and the North. The hotels are filled with displaced families. In one we spoke with residents of Sderot who are living indefinitely in Jerusalem hotels with whole families in a room. The day we were there, a therapeutic theater company was voluntarily putting on a play for the children addressing the trauma they experienced on October 7th.
Dignity
The attention to individuals, to their needs, feelings, and their infinite value and honor was everywhere. At the Shura army base, the headquarters of the army rabbinate, we toured a facility which was constructed in case of military tragedy. What looked like a cross between a warehouse and hospital, this is the place where all those who die in the line of duty are taken. Built for a few dozen at a time, it had to accommodate hundreds on October 7th. The soldier/rabbis who work there spoke only of “kavod hamet,” the honor of the dead. As an enormous chevra kadisha, their goal is to determine, beyond a doubt and as fast as possible, the identity of the fallen so that families can be notified before they find out from some other source. This is done with fingerprints, DNA, CT scanners and dental records. But also, their goal is to honor the fallen, and to prepare the bodies for burial. The sense of meticulous “kavod hamet” was palpable. They stressed that all who fall defending the Jewish people, or die because they are Jews, “al kiddush hashem” are considered “kodesh hakodashim,” holy of holies. They are buried in their clothing according to Jewish law, because this sense of holiness permeates. The meticulous care that is taken of these holy individuals who are no longer alive is reminiscent, in my mind, of the care given to a baby or a Torah.
Spirituality
In another building on the Shura base, we met Rabbi Atlas, a 70-year-old IDF colonel who oversees the religious items needed by the troops. He said that every unit wants a Torah to take with them into the field and into battle for davening. Additionally, he showed us army green dri-fit tzitzit which they are producing by the tens of thousands because so many soldiers want tzitzit. I asked him why the secular soldiers want tzitzit and he replied, “In war, there are no secular.” Every soldier wants tzitzit. Additionally, mezuzot are written even for buildings in Gaza in which soldiers are temporarily encamped.
Meaning
One night we went to eat and talk to soldiers at a BBQ which was made for the base by Rav Rimon, the Rabbi of Elon Shevut and head of numerous organizations. In addition to writing books and being a Rabbi, he is spending his time bringing soldiers whatever they need, including close to 1000 winter coats which were needed right away before a unit went into Gaza. He spoke to the soldiers at the base and said, "I don't take off this suit jacket that I am wearing because it's holy, I have hugged hundreds of soldiers while wearing it.” There is a marked sense that due to the Jewish people’s mission, its Torah and history, defending the Jewish people is one of the holiest acts. Every soldier, no matter how religious or not, is engaged in defending the Jewish people and this is sacred.
It is ironic that I, the Rabbi of a Synagogue less than a mile from the Mall, was in Israel during the largest Jewish march on Washington. Many people in Israel said to me, “You are here and all the Jews of America are in Washington!” Perhaps that is part of the point though; while it is true that as a people, Israel is the place which God told Abraham we are supposed to live, there is no doubt that at this time that the relationship between Israel and the United States, and between Jews in Israel and in the diaspora, is vital. May God protect us and may we see a victorious and peaceful end to this war, speedily in our time.
