Politics

A friend of mine, visiting from New York, came to my shul on Shabbos and asked where our rabbi was. Innocently, and without giving it any thought, I answered that he is in “miluim” (IDF reserves). Like tens of thousands of Israeli men, he is part of the war being fought against evil. What blew my mind was my friend’s comment – which I was not expecting. “He is in the army now? That’s funny… My rabbi from New York is in a bungalow colony in the Catskills with his family. Pretty big difference!”

I live in Herzliya, and every time I enter the city, I feel ashamed by the gigantic sign that has been posted at the entrance. It’s a quote from Golda Meir from the 1970s, when she said, “Israel has a secret weapon – We have nowhere else to go!” Why do I cringe every time I see that sign? I’ll answer that in a minute, but first let me tell you that I have the same feelings when I hear the famous song, “Ein lanu eretz acheret” (We have no other land). Here’s why:

Everybody knows that arguments within families are the hardest ones to resolve. More often than not, disputes regarding inheritance cause irreparable damage. How sad that brothers stop talking, cousins never get to know each other, and families are literally broken apart.

The news has been devastating. Each morning, as we open our computers or turn on the radio, we hear five names, eight names, 11 names…from Jerusalem, Pardes Chana, Karnei Shomron, Ra’anana, Beit El – all young men whose lives ended before they even began.

I have spoken in over 500 Jewish communities in the United States and Canada and love the Q&A session that follows my presentation. This is where people get to ask what is truly bothering and/or confusing them. Once – at a hotel in the Catskills – a young woman gave an introduction to her question by asking a pre-question: “Is it okay if I ask something that might offend you?” My answer was simple and to the point; “Of course you can. Ask whatever you want. But is it okay if my answer offends you?” She decided not to ask her question. Oh, man! I was actually looking forward to that one.

On a recent trip to New York, I davened Maariv in a chasidishe shul in Brooklyn. On my way out, I heard, “Shmuel, one second!” It was an old friend of mine; I was happy to see him. We schmoozed for a bit and then he told me something. Ever since October 7, the Rebbe of this shul had started davening – by name – for each of the hostages. He says T’hilim and prays for their release. My friend took my hand and said, “Let me introduce you to the Rebbe.” Naturally, I was happy to meet him and gave him a “yasher koach” for his t’filos. But then I added something he wasn’t expecting. I asked the following question: “With Hashem’s help, these hostages will be released. When that happens, will you continue to daven? Will you then pray for the IDF soldiers who risk their lives fighting the enemy on a daily basis?” His answer said it all: “It was a pleasure meeting you. Have a nice evening.” And then he walked away.