Worlds Apart

This time is different.

This mission that Israel undertook to secure our own people – our future, our Jewish state – is more monumental and consequential than any IDF operation most of us have seen in our lifetime.

It is the stuff of history books. Mind-bogglingly brilliant, a show of valor worthy of King David himself. Today we are the lion rising, not the prey struggling to defend itself.

The backlash – a flood of ballistic missiles stockpiled for decades, waiting for their explosive day to come – is also different: more terrifying, more potentially deadly than the cruder rockets used by Iran’s proxies against us these last few years.

The fear is real. Yet it comes with the empowering conviction that miraculous transformation is underway.

Our indescribable pride in our fighters, our pilots, our military strategists and intelligence operatives – whose bravery, ingenuity, and discretion will inspire a whole new generation of lions of Israel – commingles with our humble gratitude to Hashem for enabling this miraculous mission. For blessing it with success.

This epic battle proves once again that, in Jewish history, myriads do not assure victory. Strength is a many-faceted thing. Size doesn’t much matter – not when G-d is right beside us as the missiles fall, and right there with our boys flying over Teheran.

It seems impossible to overstate the emotion, the magnitude of these last few days in our hearts and minds and souls.

And yet… Perusing social media posts, seeing the response and attention and level of interest – or lack thereof, in too many cases – from friends and family and random Jews in the Diaspora, I can’t help but sense that once again, we are not in the same universe.

Yes, I know that many are praying, passionately so; many are grasping onto every bit of news from Israel, hungry for connection with a place they love dearly – but that does not seem to be true of the masses.

People are posting about restaurants and vacations, fun events, fancy events, real estate, food, fashion, sheitels – all the usual things.

And let’s be honest: Worrying about loved ones in Israel is not the same as feeling that all of Israel are your loved ones – it’s different than feeling invested in this story irrespective of family ties or lack thereof. (Here’s a test: Would the worry be any less if they were caught up in unrest in China or South Africa? Then let’s not pretend it’s about Israel, or even about Am Yisrael.)

I thought perhaps it was only me who had gotten just a few paltry “checking in” messages from family and friends – in most cases, a one-and-done – but speaking to some of my neighbors who also hail from the Diaspora, I find that I’ve not been the only one feeling disheartened.

More than my own feelings this last week, though, is what I fear this represents in the bigger picture.

Here we are, almost certain that we are on the brink of redemption, rattled yet rejuvenated by the burst of renewed unity that is the happy side effect of every national crisis in Israel… but what about our millions of brothers and sisters in the Diaspora? What will this glorious future for Am Yisrael look like – will it even come to bear? – if so many are so preoccupied with the trappings of their everyday lives that they don’t go to sleep and wake up with Israel on their lips?

Speaking of trappings, there’s been much talk about the Americans and other tourists “trapped” here. I realize it’s a hardship, especially for those separated from their immediate family, missing important events, or kept apart from parnassah. And of course, the missile attacks are terrifying, especially for those having to seek shelter for the first time. Still, I cringe at the terminology. It says: There’s here and there, us and them, and everyone needs to be back where they belong. Let the Israelis stuck abroad return home, and just please Get us out of here!

If we are to merit Moshiach in our time, it’s going to take more than a righteous minority – bless them a thousand times over – moistening their siddurim with their tears. In schools and shuls and camps and communities, there has to be a paradigm shift as cataclysmic as the one taking shape in the Middle East right now: the realization that we all belong to the Land of Israel. The future in America or any other country may be dimming or brightening or completely uncertain, but ultimately it doesn’t matter because that is not where our destiny is meant to unfold. That is not where it will unfold.

Regardless of where they live, every Jew can and must grasp this fundamental truth, what my father z”l used to aptly call “geulah consciousness.”

And with Israel at war – the stakes higher than ever before – the time to make that connection is right now.