The war Chronicles #8. Iran Edition

It’s been awhile. We have developed a sad and unacceptable yet at the same time necessary and manageable routine of war. More soldiers in active service, more families struggling with loved ones on the front, more prayers, more kindness, more injury, death, and loss, more sadness, and for many: more hope. We still have 53 hostages waiting to come home and a giant gaping smoldering question-mark called the Gush Katif / the Gaza Strip. With all of this, and in addition to the daily responsibilities of family and community, we go about our lives, make plans, try to tend to a million and one needs before passing out at night and starting again a few hours later.

On October 7th 2023, the facade of relative peace was so completely and unexpectedly destroyed and the global Jewish response was so comforting. As I wrote HERE, the outpouring of Giving (that’s with a capital G), was incredible. It came from all types and from all over and it came faster than anyone could have imagined. Boots, cards and letters, beef jerky, protein bars, combat gear, and funds, in addition to in-person volunteering on army bases, farms, distribution centers, and more – it was truly incredible. Everyone was praying for “Acheinu kol beis Yisroel” – our brethren in Israel. It was palpable. New layers of consciousness were added to the beating heart of our nation.

Well here we are again: The airport (and indeed all of Israeli airspace) is closed.  Schools are closed. Shul is closed. No large gatherings. We spent much of the past two nights awake and/or in and out of safe rooms and shelters. Sadly, 2 direct hits over the weekend with hundreds wounded dozens missing and at least 10 killed. We are at war. And we are in danger. And we are nervous or scared or anxious but also functioning, and productive, and mostly ok. There has been a spontaneous reappearance of small street minyanim that dot our street, and venturing out of the house now includes planning for the possibility of an air raid siren warning of very real danger.

It is nothing short of miraculous that the technology exists to disarm a school bus-sized trajectory traveling at 6 or more times the speed of sound at an altitude of 2000+ miles and then we sit in our shelters just scrolling on our phones and counting down the 10 minutes for the all clear. But we have become accustomed to it. So when this new(ish) threat arrived, it brought with it a renewed concern – a palpable sense that something bigger and even more threatening is afoot. The messaging from the Homefront Command is unmistakable: this isn’t a hiccup or a slight chance and we aren’t just erring on the side of caution: there is a country out there with a significant stockpile of intercontinental ballistic missiles and they are using them against us. The Iranian Regime has not been shy about their intent to destroy Israel given the chance, and they were getting too close to that chance so Israel is actively dismantling that option. But – and I know this sounds obvious – bombing a country because it has the means to hurt you will naturally result in them attempting to use said means to try to hurt you. And here we are.

Thousands of troops were called up to reserve duty – many of whom had finally stored their boots and guns after hundreds of days of reserve duty. Let’s take a moment to contemplate our reservists: I believe I have a pretty full schedule of familial and professional responsibilities. I can’t imagine what it would be like to juggle all of that and still be physically, mentally, and emotionally ready at the drop of a hat to pack a bag and report for duty on a dangerous and uncomfortable border or hilltop or warzone for weeks or months at a time. These men and women and their families are heroes. Every single one of them. And we have the privilege to live among them.

Unlike my earlier installments of The War Chronicles, I’d humbly suggest that what follows is a call to action: On October 7th and since, we needed supplies and manpower and as those came in at a dizzying rate, we felt the unified embrace of our brethren around the globe. I don’t think the IAF is looking for volunteer F-35 pilots and the Mossad seems to be fine on their own. Both should continue to be blessed with Divine Guidance and success. But don’t be fooled.  There are other ways to send that hug. Check in with everyone you know who lives in Israel. Literally everyone. And don’t forget the Israelis who are stranded overseas whose flights were cancelled. Thoughts and prayers are welcome and necessary – and let us know that they are happening. We can’t gather in large numbers, but YOU can! Shuls, schools, whole communities – strength in numbers. It helps us at home and it helps soldiers in the field. After Shabbos ended in the US, I saw advertisements and updates about lots of things (restaurants, clothing, music, little league) and only a few about Israel. Conceptually, a time-honored tradition is to “place Jerusalem at the top of my joy”.  Israel needn’t replace everything else, but it can be put at the top. I’m not going to list my suggestions: I’ll do me and you do you. However you are comfortable acknowledging an existential threat to millions of your brothers and sisters, do that. Don’t make it about flights, or vacations, or summer plans. Don’t make it about politics. Don’t make it about past mistakes. Make it about your people experiencing something real, right now.

Let’s do this together. I can’t speak for too many others, but I know that I’ll certainly appreciate it.

Thanks for listening.