I’m grateful for what ‘might be our last normal day’

A week ago, on Saturday night, my son asked me if we could go to Tel Aviv the next day. “You know,” he said, “because it might be our last normal day.”

So far, we have managed to have eight “might be our last normal day” days.

We made it to Ganei Yehoshua in Tel Aviv, to Ammunition Hill in Jerusalem, to bowling (twice!), to hang out with cousins and to spend time with grandparents. All the time with the threat of major attacks hanging over our heads.

On “might be our last normal day” days, everyone is an expert about when “something” might happen: “Definitely not today. But today might be our last normal day.”

The malls and cafes are as full as ever. Everyone appears relaxed. But there is an energetic tension in the air. And people jump at the slightest rumble in the sky.

On “might be our last normal day” days, Israelis excel at just going about their business. It is a sign of resilience to be able to ponder your existence while sitting on the beach reading a book or sipping an ice coffee next to the pool.

It is not that we are naïve, ignorant, or have our heads in the sand. It is not that we are in denial. We all know what may be in store. There are no illusions.

But we choose to live our fullest lives.

On Thursday night, I had the privilege of hearing Iris Chaim. Iris is the mother of Yotam Chaim who was kidnapped by Hamas to Gaza, escaped and then was mistakenly shot by our own forces.

Iris spoke about her optimism during the days of Yotam’s captivity and how she refused to give up hope that he was alive and would return. She spoke about being asked if she was afraid to be disappointed. She acknowledged knowing and understanding that events may not unfold as she hoped for. She insisted, however, that she wasn’t going to sit around waiting to be disappointed.

And neither will we.
We won’t sit around waiting to be disappointed, attacked or killed.
We will hope for the best even as we prepare for the worst.

And in the meantime, we will remain grateful for what we have and enjoy it while it lasts.

Our tradition is rich with examples of how to hold these different truths together. And if we were in need of a reminder, we got one today.

Today is Rosh Chodesh Av. The first of the “Nine Days” — a period of time commemorating the events leading up to the destruction of both the First and Second Temples on the 9^th of Av, as well as other tragedies that happened during this period in our history.

The month of Av is a time that Jews are told to “reduce our joy.”

And yet, today, nonetheless, we began the morning by reciting Hallel, a prayer of joy and thanksgiving that we say on holidays, as well as, on every first day of a new month — even when that month is Av.

This morning, every line of Hallel felt especially poignant and relevant:

In distress I called to the Lord; the Lord answered me, and gave me relief.
With the Lord on my side, I do not fear; what can man do to me?
With the Lord on my side as my helper, I will see the downfall of my enemies.
All the nations surround me; by the Lord’s name I will cut them down.
I shall not die, but live, and proclaim the deeds of the Lord.
The Lord chastised me severely, but He did not hand me over to death.
We beg you, Lord, save us! We beg You, Lord, send prosperity!
Give thanks to the Lord, for He is good, for His loving-kindness endures forever.”
(Psalm 118:5-7, 10, 17-18, 25, 29)

We call out to God in distress and we are confident in His relief.
We know the nations surround us and we will see the downfalls of our enemies.
We beg to be saved and we give thanks to the Lord who is good.

We prepare our saferooms and we take our kids out to the zoo.
We make jokes about the end of the world and we make plans for next week.
We know there is nothing normal about these days and we still enjoy them to their fullest.

We are Israelis.
Real, honest, practical, apprehensive and strong, resilient, hopeful, confident and grateful to be here.
Life is too precious to sit around waiting.

Because, you know, today might be our last normal day.