In Israel, Thursday, the 22nd day of Shevat, 5785, will surely be a day enshrined forever in the long, storied history of the Jewish people. It may or may not register much in America, except for some blog post or possibly a newspaper article of the event. There will be sighs and emotions for a moment, which may even last a few moments, possibly even an hour. Then it’s off to Target or the JCC.
It won’t
be anything like that here in Jerusalem and the whole of Israel, today. I don’t
say this to cast aspersions on our brethren who don’t live in Israel. G-d forbid.
I know there are millions of Jews around the world who will be heartbroken by
the news and pictures. What I am trying to say is that it won’t be life as
usual in Israel. Not today.
Earlier
this morning, the remains of the Bibas family (or so we thought – more on that
later) and Oded Lifshitz were returned from Gaza in coffins. Most of the world
will yawn. But for us living in Hashem’s land, it is a day of grieving, a day
full of sadness and restrained, silent rage. While other days have been weighed
down by similar sorrows over the last 500-plus days, there have been none quite
like this one. The entire country is in a state of shock even though most
feared this day would come. Now that it has arrived, it is far worse and
heavier than anyone could have imagined. A malaise has taken over the city and
the country; everyone is wondering how we got here and, more importantly, how
we keep from, G-d forbid, getting back here.
* * *
I can’t
get out of my mind the passage we said in Tachanun
earlier this morning: “Look down from Heaven and see how we have become an
object of scorn and derision among the nations. We are regarded as sheep led to
slaughter to be killed, destroyed, beaten, and humiliated, Yet despite all
this, we have not forgotten Your name. Please do not forget us.”
As I have
written previously in these pages, the emunah
(faith) you find in every corner of this land is beyond anything I have ever
known. Agam Berger, a young woman barely able to vote, was released from
captivity two weeks ago. Since her release, she is temporarily living in Tel
Aviv at the very same hotel where my basketball team resides for the season.
Her stories of faith and character belie anything in this world. Trapped in the
murderers’ dungeons, Agam told her terrorist captors she would not eat any of
their non-kosher meat.
Agam told her terrorist captors
she would not eat any of their non-kosher meat. She relates how her captors
inexplicably found a siddur in the field and asked her what it
was. Along with the other four girls with whom she was being held captive –
prayed from it each day. She was careful to not violate the laws of Shabbos,
keeping up with the Jewish calendar from news reports on the televisions and
radios of her subjugators. In one particular instance she related how the girls
heard on Israeli Army Radio that it was the second day of Av. They counted
seven days and all of them fasted on Tisha B’av. All the women proudly fasted
again on Yom Kipper and celebrated the chagim, holidays, when
they had the opportunity. Agam stressed that she made it a point to fast on the
Fast of Esther and refused to eat chametz on Pesach, settling
for corn flour instead.
All of us
in our guarded world get lost in stories of holiness about this tzadik in one city or that tzadik in another. We have volumes of
heroic tales through millennia of Jewish courage in the face of persecution and
death. I have no insight into Hashem’s thoughts or plans, but I am not sure
that there is as great an example for our people today of sanctifying Hashem’s
name under extreme conditions than the actions of Agam Berger in captivity. If
we truly believe in what we teach, the story of Agam Berger should be taught
and spoken about in every Jewish institution on our planet, educational or
otherwise. I will, bez”H, forever
stand when she enters a room simply for kavod
HaTorah and the holy neshama that
lives inside of her. Her love for Hashem and sacrifice for Torah and the Jewish
people is on a level that is beyond the scope of my comprehension.
* * *
Something has been running
through my mind ever since we moved here. How it relates to the Agam Berger
story may clarify some of the thoughts I wrote above. Please stay with me here.
There is a point, I promise.
My wife
Peshi and I spent our first erev Rosh
Hashanah in Jerusalem locked in our ma’amad
(safe room) as sirens, loud booms, and deafening noises continued above us for
roughly 45 minutes. We were in the midst of the second Iranian ballistic
missile bombardment, and while I’m not sure about anyone else in our
neighborhood, I spent those minutes as relaxed as I had been since we arrived.
A good friend texted me, “Stay safe, Coach.” This was my response: “Siren after
siren, Jerusalem is under attack. Watch what Hashem does.”
That
experience alone – 300 ballistic missiles raining down on the Holy Land without
a casualty – would be enough of an open miracle. However, none of it surprised
or rattled me. On the contrary, I knew what our enemies didn’t – and still don’t.
I experienced it every day those first two months we lived here.
Before I
continue, I feel the need to offer a sincere apology to anyone reading the
words that follow. I have been communicating with Rabbi Dovid Katz since our
arrival, and when I mentioned the things I have witnessed and been a part of,
he suggested I write about them. I told him I do not have the requisite skills
to adequately express the glorious wonders and miracles of Hashem taking place
every day in front of our eyes. How does one describe the indescribable? Explain
the unexplainable?
* * *
The Talmud
in Ketuvot (110b/111a) says, “A person who lives outside the land of Israel, it’s
as if he has no G-d” (To quote Rabbi Katz: “Don’t get mad at me; it’s right
there in the book.”) What does it mean it’s like I have no G-d? I daven three
times a day, learn Torah, give charity, do my best to fulfill the mitzvos, give
of my time for the community, etc. The debate in the Talmud ends by referring
to living in a land of idol worshippers. In such lands, it is as if he has no
G-d. But I want to offer another thought, which I discovered only once I moved
here.
There are
many, many wonderful Jews who follow the words of Hashem and live outside the
land of Israel – most all of them far greater than me both in knowledge and
action. To be sure, I’ve always had a difficult time with this particular Talmudic
idea – until now.
Allow me
to suggest an understanding of the Talmud’s position from my
perspective alone. When I lived in America, I knew Hashem was in my life. I
loved Him just as much there as I do here. Hashem is in control of the world,
which is simple to see even living outside of Israel. But what I have found
here is something different – and again, something I am not qualified to write
about or describe so please accept my apology in advance.
What I’d
like to offer is that the Talmud is referring to Hashem living here with you.
As sure as I can feel my right arm, I can feel Him, here, with His people, in
His land. This is what the Talmud means when it says “those who live outside
the land….” It is not so much that those who live outside the land don’t
witness His wonders and miracles. Just the opposite, they awake every day
knowing Hashem is the King of the world. However, when you are living here, you
see for yourself each day that Hashem is here. In this land, with you.
The Talmud
in Ta’anis (10a) says that Hashem created this land first, then everywhere else
after it. “The Holy One Blessed Be He waters the land of Israel and sends
messengers to the rest of the world.” He is here and sends you signs every day;
not only has He not forgotten you; He is here with you.
* * *
Things happen in Israel that
are truly beyond logic or description. “Ain
cheiker – His greatness is unfathomable, and yet when you live here
you know He is here. We had been living in Jerusalem for a
couple of months, and I’d settled into my commute to Tel Aviv during the week,
a process that includes at least one bus and train ride each way, each day. As
a rule, I try to keep my mind busy during the trip and usually download a Torah
podcast/shiur or two to make use of
the time. One evening, I found a podcast I was interested in and downloaded it
to my phone for the next day’s trip. The exciting part for me was that this
podcast was given by a former classmate of our twin boys. Their former
classmate obviously used to live in Baltimore before making aliyah himself.
Having
heard this classmate’s name but one or two times over the previous 15 years, I
sat in my seat on the bus and pulled out my phone, excited to listen. While
scrolling through the downloads in search of the podcast, a voice interrupted
me, “I heard you made aliyah. It’s so
great to see you.” I looked at the seat across from me and saw that very same
classmate of our children.
“You’re
not going to believe this,” I said, as I showed him my phone, to which he
laughed and responded that he takes the same bus and the same train I do every
day. Yet this was the first time I saw him in the two months that I been taking
the very same bus and the very same train. All this happened 12 hours after I
discovered his podcast. I had no explanation other than to acknowledge that
Hashem is here with me.
A week
before that meeting on the bus, Peshi and I had gone to her cousin for Shabbos
lunch. During the meal, I mentioned a favorite Ramban of mine, where he
acknowledges a mistake he made in his commentary (Bereshis 35.16), which the
Ramban corrected only after he had arrived in the Holy Land. The very next day,
Peshi’s cousin called her and said she was currently eating lunch with a friend
and had to relay a conversation they’d just had. Having told her friend the
story of the Ramban from the day before, the friend said to her, “Turn around.”
“Why?”
“Because
eating lunch behind you are the authors of a sefer on the 300-plus changes the Ramban made to his commentary
once he moved to Israel.” (Tosfot
Haramban). The friend asked if I was interested in the book because she
could get it for me that day. That sefer
now is a major part of my library. The very next day. Hashem is
here with you.
* * *
I could
add story after story to illustrate this point, but my space here is limited.
However, what you learn quickly in Israel is that Hashem is not simply part of your
personal life for things you can plainly see. Sometimes you can step back and
assess current events and see His hand – which brings me back to yesterday’s
grotesque display. In all honesty, the entire hostage exchange – and the dog-and-pony
show the murderers put on – tries the patience of even the most loyal and
devout. Not only did these savages give us the wrong keys to the coffins, but
they sent back the wrong body!
Can it be,
as a Trump administration representative suggested on CNN, that the body of
Shiri Bibas was so brutally mutilated that they couldn’t send her back?
Consider that the State of Israel offered any Gazan a five-million dollar
reward for information leading to the rescue of any hostage. No one was willing
to claim the money. Even the Germans– albeit not many – during World War II hid
Jews.
This is
the brutal evil enemy we are dealing with. The response around the globe?
Another loud yawn from a morally repugnant world. Yes, there were a few fake,
late condemnations, with most somehow equating the Jewish people with their
bloodthirsty barbaric marauders. “Remember what Amalek did to you on your
journey out of Egypt, how they surprised you on the road and cut off all the
weak people at your rear, when you were parched and weary, and they did not
fear G?d.” (Devarim 25:17)
Now, at
the end of this long and torturous Thursday, with Israel weak and weary, terror
reared its ugly head once again, but Hashem protected His land and His people
with yet another open miracle. “Lo sira mipachad
laila, michetz yauf yomam – Fear not the terror of night, nor the arrow that flies by day.”
Five buses were attacked, reportedly by these same barbarians. Authorities now believe they were set to explode on erev Shabbos, Friday at 9:00 a.m. Instead, the
explosions began at roughly 9:00 p.m. on Thursday evening and continued
thereafter. There were zero casualties.
Rumor has that it the buses were a distraction for a much larger
and more devastating operation on a scale akin to October 7th. It is
as if our Creator is telling us: Yes, the day was difficult, but there is plan
for you, My people, and one day soon you will see why each of these events had
to happen the way it did. But I will keep sending you reminders so you know I
am watching over you even when no one acknowledges our relationship. I
will continue to send you signs and let you know I am still here watching over you, so you will know that it is I,
Hashem, Who protects My people and My land which I have promised to you and you
alone. “And you shall dwell in the land I gave to
your fathers and you shall be My people and I will be your G-d” (Ezekiel 36:28)
* * *
Agam
Berger knew Hashem was with her in the dungeons of Gaza. With a strength of
faith and conviction seemingly borrowed from a previous generation, Agam
withstood the onslaught and heard the voice of Hashem and His message to hold
on tight to our faith regardless of circumstance.
As for me,
I will, bez”H, look to follow her
lead with an unbreakable faith and the courage to trust in Hashem regardless of
what life throws at me. As I remind myself constantly: Do not despair; we, the
Jewish people, are a mathematical impossibility. But it is not math or the odds
that decide our fate, it is the Creator of all things, and it is in Him that I
will trust forever. We have been through many difficult times, and this too
shall pass. “For I will turn their mourning into joy and will comfort them, and
make them rejoice from their sorrow.” (Jeremiah 31:12)
I am here with you, My children, you are My people. I have
not forgotten you.
Chaim Katz is a simple
Jew married to a fantastic wife and together they are both working to live
their best life in the land of their ancestors.
