An Olah's Perspective on the War in Israel
For better or for worse, the valley behind our new block in Ramat Shiloh has become an echo chamber, carrying the reverberations of the airstrikes on Gaza right to our back doors. We hear the booms all day, signifying the calculated destruction of our evil enemies. But we also hear the sirens ring, bringing us racing to our safe room.
It's different from across an ocean. You hear the stories, you watch the videos, you read the forwards. But you can't experience what we are feeling. So I want to share with you what's really going on here.
On Simchas Torah, we watched soldiers dressed in various combinations of half-uniform/half-Shabbos clothes gather on our block and wait for their ride back to base, their guns on their backs likely to be used to defend their lives in the coming days. We watched their families stand with them, sending them off with solemn words of support and also hugs and homemade challah.
While stocking up on essentials at the supermarket, I watched people give each other a hand while waiting on a line that snaked all the way to the back of the store: A young man storing an older woman's cartons of milk in his insulated cooler, and three women at the front of the line insisting that the Abba buying six cans of formula, and nothing else, cut the line. On a different shopping trip, an older woman at the store helped my husband unload his groceries onto the conveyor belt because she didn't want him to have to stretch, like she was his savta.
I went to the hardware store to buy a pipe to be used if, G-d forbid, we ever had to lock our safe room's door from the inside. As the store owner swiped my credit card, he smiled and said, "Bezrat Hashem, you should never have to use this." I replied, "Amein, stay safe."
This afternoon we were startled by loud honking in front of our building, until we realized that it was a parade of cars sporting giant Israeli flags and blasting music, weaving through town to lift everyone's spirits. Me and the kids cheered out the window. Okay fine, only me.
It's more than just the obvious: the blood drives, the food drives, the Tehillim gatherings. That could happen anywhere. But here, here you walk outside and feel the support and concern oozing out from every corner, out of every yid.
At this time of turmoil, where we don't know what the next moment will bring, at this time of sorrow, pain, and anger for the people of Israel, I have but one emotion when I look outside: joy.
Joy for the opportunity to be in my homeland at such a pivotal moment in our nation's history.
Joy for our soldiers who continue to receive love and support from around the world.
Joy at seeing a nation so united. Mashiach will not be able to hide much longer.
And joy knowing soon you will get to experience all this with us, in the Holy Land.
By Faygie Slotkin
