It is my practice on Fridays, before the onset of Shabbat, to send a message to everyone in the office.  I try to be at least a little bit inspiring and encouraging.  In this pre-Shabbat message, I simply said: “Pray for peace, but pass the ammunition.”  I knew that war would shortly ensue.

When I arose in Israel Saturday morning to go to Schule, I peered out of the balcony.  The streets are always quiet on Saturday mornings, but this morning seemed different than others.  There were absolutely no cars on the street whatsoever.  No people.  What I did see, which mildly bemused me, were a few people walking their dogs.  The dogs get walked, no matter what the risk.

During the Covid lockdown, we were in Haifa, Israel.  The government issued an order that people were required to stay in their homes for Passover, so as not to spread the disease, but there were three exceptions.  One could leave their home to get medicine or medical help; to attend a protest; and to walk their dogs.  That is no joke.

After a week of being cooped up, my son Joshua and I decided to take a walk.  A civil defense man came up to us and asked us where we were going.  We told him, with a wry smile, that we were coming back from a protest.  He and told us just to go straight back to our apartment.

As I was about to walk out of the apartment, headed for the Synagogue, the first sirens went off at 8:15 a.m.  Since I am Shomer Shabbat, I had no idea what was going on, and I had not checked my phone.  I waited until the siren stopped, plus a few minutes, and headed off for the small Synagogue at the end of the block.

It was my grandson’s birthday, and his father, my son-in-law, Netanel, was to read the weekly portion from the Prophets.  The Bible has great meaning here.  Purim is around the corner.  This is the holiday where the Persian government sought to murder all the Jews in its kingdom, which spread in those days from India to Ethiopia.  The Jewish people were saved by Esther and her Uncle Mordechai.  Purim is a festive time of the year, where children, and sometimes even adults, dress up for at least a week ahead of time.

Right after my son-in-law’s tribute to his son, Noam, the sirens sounded again.  We were then told that the first siren at 8:15 was simply a warning that the war had started.

Those who were left at the congregation headed over to a building across the street to find a stairwell.  We made our way to the stairwell, where the Rabbi completed the service.  Afterwards, we went back to the tiny synagogue building, spread a table with a plastic tablecloth, and engaged in the traditional Kiddush, after the service.  A discussion of the Bible portion ensued, which involved the topic of Amalek.

Amalek was a nation destroyed specifically because it attacked Israel when Israel was weakest, and preyed specifically on the stragglers, the women and children.

Throughout the day Saturday, we obeyed the sirens by piling into the Mamaad, the safe room.

In the afternoon hours, it was time to go to afternoon services, Mincha.  We headed over to a nearby Sephardi Synagogue where the North African, Israeli, and Eastern Jewish community gathers.  The sirens began to sound once again.  The Rabbi of this synagogue refused to leave, although some of the congregants did.  After dark, Mincha is followed by the evening service, Maariv.  The attacks against Israel ramped up during Maariv, and some of us went outside, only to see what at first glance appeared to be a fireworks display.  We realized that these were not fireworks but attempts to take our lives from us, specifically because we were non-combatant civilians.

As we walked across the street to the stairwell in the building, towards the end of the Maariv service, as a straggler at the end of the line, I looked to my left.  It was like something out of a Spielberg movie.  I saw three bright objects in the sky glowing brighter and brighter.  One of them seemed to be headed right for the area where I was walking.  All three of these glowing points of light were bright white with a red circle around them.  When I realized how close one of them was, I picked up my pace and made it to the stairwell where a young man was holding the door for me.

Frequently, the sirens are followed by a loud “boom.”  That is either a missile strike or an interception.  Thankfully it is usually an interception.  However, the shrapnel from the large warheads used by the Iranians can cause quite a bit of damage.

I was determined not to run whenever I heard a siren.  I figured that I have lived a good and long life, and I will simply do what is right and necessary, but at my own pace.  However, when walking back to our apartment after the three services, my son-in-law ran into a building at the sound of another attack, and I willing broke into a medium jog.  It is one thing to be brave, but another to be dumb.

The way the warnings work here is that there is usually a prominent and loud notice that arrives by telephone.  This occurs when the ballistic missiles are launched from Iran.  Approximately 10 minutes later, the sirens will sound.  Some of those sirens are in nearby towns, and others are right here in Be’er Yakov.  The local sirens naturally evoke a more immediate response.  The missile is headed right here!

At the sound of the sirens, especially the local ones, most but not all people pile into Mamaad or a stairwell to await the “boom.”  After the “boom,” people exit and go about their business.

Kim was walking up to the apartment where our kids live Sunday morning when she heard the local siren.   She properly and dutifully went into a building where a man was cleaning the lobby.  He opened the doors for her and showed her the way to the stairwell.  However, she noted that he kept cleaning the floor.  About that time, I heard a loud sound that I thought might be a jet airplane.  I looked out the window, and the street was being cleaned by a loud and nosey machine.  In some strange and almost bizarre manner, life goes on notwithstanding the risks and dangers.

Perhaps the most upsetting component of living through this war are two posts that I saw on social media.  One was on Kim’s Facebook.  The post was from a well-known Democratic functionary.  Her post used a well-known Anglo-Saxon expletive starting with the letter “F” to condemn anyone who had voted for Trump and claiming that the United States had attacked Iran at the “behest” of Israel.  Kim immediately defriended her, and we both observed that when Israel defends itself against threats of annihilation, antisemitism often shows up on the doorstep.

The other upsetting component of living through this war were reading quotes from people like the Mayor of New York City and other Democrats in Congress who condemn legitimate attempts to prevent Iran from terrorizing the world.  What could be worse for the United States than a nuclear-armed Iran with intercontinental ballistic missiles?  Iran has made no secret of its war on western civilization and Christians who they consider to be idol worshippers.  Iran, its proxies and friends, have cleansed the entire Middle East of the Christian community, who are only safe in Israel.

Perhaps of greatest interest is the extent to which the hard left and the hard right have coalesced into a force of evil not unlike the philosophical alliance between the old Soviet state and good old fashioned European fascism.

Israel will triumph!  The Rising Lion of Israel is designated in the Bible.  It is a phrase also used to describe a man named Trumpledor who died in 1920 in the Battle of Tel Hai defending Jews against the Arabs.  At that time, Israel did not have a sophisticated Army, and the west was only too willing to be complicit in the death of Jews.  That cannot and will not happen again.

On Trumpledor’s tombstone, he is referred to as one of the Rising Lions.

Thank you for all the good wishes, prayers, and positive commentary that we have received from friends, allies, and a great host of thoroughly decent people.

© The Times of Israel (Blogs)