Part II
By now many of you have probably read my piece in last week’s paper, entitled “Never forget? How I wish I could!”
Since then, it has been a tough few days I will never forget - not my usual Chanukah, but with a Chanukah miracle.
The day after that article was published, which was about my experiences during my son Matan’s Simchat Torah call-up at the start of the current war and my own trip to Poland, we had a Chanukah miracle of our own, right as we were lighting the first candle.
In one of the battles in Gaza, Matan was injured. He and his unit were able to take out the terrorists, and then he was taken with another of his friends by helicopter to Hadassah hospital in Jerusalem.
The IDF is well-versed in calling soldiers’ families in all situations, and thank G-d, it was Matan’s voice telling me that he was fine but had been injured and that we should go to the hospital. With the oil still burning, talking about the miracles then and now and publicizing those miracles, we left our family Chanukah party and drove to the hospital. I will never forget that drive, as our minds play tricks on us, and the worst possible thoughts are those that are front and center. How would he look? How would he be, spiritually and mentally? What should we prepare ourselves for?
We arrived, he was coherent and smiling at us and we were able to breathe…and then learned the whole story. During the battle, a bullet ricocheting nearby had sent dozens of pieces of shrapnel that became embedded in him. Baruch Hashem, almost all of them were in his back and arms, with only a few in his face. Nothing major was hit and he would be okay, with a few scars and a good story to tell. They took out the ones they could, and the rest will stay with him until 120.
I well remember the non-religious doctor who took shrapnel out of my arm when I was in Lebanon years ago telling me that flying shrapnel is a lottery and it can go anywhere. If it doesn’t go anywhere serious, it means someone was davening for you. It made me think then and does again now.
Baruch Hashem. It could have been so much worse.
He is doing well, in good spirits, sore, and in some pain - and of course, he can’t wait to get back in.
The outpouring of love, prayers, and support from all over has been incredible and overwhelming and adds to my spiking rollercoaster of emotions. I find I am holding back tears so much of the time; when I led musaf on Shabbat, it took me about five minutes just to get through the prayer for the soldiers. It is just so real now.
I wanted to send this update to thank you all in the US for your tefilot and thoughts, as well as your physical support with what has been sent. For example, the protective gear he was wearing that undoubtedly saved his life - some of that was given by the Jews across the world.
I am brought back to a d’var Torah my son Noam said about the Al HaNissim prayer. Why do we recall the wars, the milchamot? Surely that’s not something we should be grateful for.
The answer is as obvious as the question. We are grateful to Hashem not only because of the miracles that we are saved in those inevitable wars, but that we are blessed to be the first generations in millennia to have the z’chut to be able to fight back, to fight a war and destroy our enemies, with Hashem’s help. Mere decades removed from the gas chambers, we are able to respond and protect ourselves.
Please, continue to say the tefilah for the chayalim, the misheberachs - and mean it. We need those tefilot.
And it looks like I have something to add to the list of things I will never forget.
By Betsalel Steinhart