My wife and I had come to Israel for our first grandchild’s wedding, expecting to stay only 10 days. Instead, that very Shabbos, the current war with Iran began, and our return home was delayed for nearly two additional weeks. During those anxious days of sirens, shelters, and uncertainty, I found myself writing.

Leaving Israel Under Fire: The Waters Will Flow Outward

We received a rebooking confirmation from El Al soon after our original reservation was canceled at the last moment five days earlier. Although we appreciated the airline’s and airport authorities’ concern for our safety, changing conditions on the ground and shifting travel restrictions had me checking the El Al app constantly, afraid I might miss some vital communication or direction. In the end, the only real change during the week was a gradual advancement of our departure time to near sunrise on Sunday morning, two weeks after we had originally planned to leave.

About an hour before Shabbos began, El Al and the US State Department announced that, beginning Tuesday, six flights would depart from Israel filled with American citizens. I hesitated to sign up, worried that El Al might cancel our confirmed Sunday booking and move us onto one of those flights.

Shabbos at our boutique hotel in Modi’in Maccabim Reut was a mixture of simchah and bedlam. Another 60 guests had checked in for a local family’s bar mitzvah celebration. A not insignificant number of the displaced Israelis from Ramla were still roaming the halls and lobby at all hours — or at least it sounded that way. The hotel had lost its boutique appeal several days earlier.

Friday night dinner was “on the house,” courtesy of the hotel management, as an acknowledgment that things had not turned out as they — or we — had expected. Another gracious gesture. On Shabbos morning, we ate early, enjoying the Israeli breakfast before the regular crowd shuffled in.

There were only a few warning alerts and sirens during Shabbos day.

By then I had come to notice the different approaches people took to the Home Front Command alerts. We usually slept in our designated night clothes or kept them close by. We would grab our jackets — the hallways were usually cool — and walk briskly, but without panic, to our mamad (safe room). There we would meet our new best friends from London, also stranded at the hotel for the same reasons and taking much the same approach.

We stayed in the shelter until the all-clear. Based on their prior experience after October 7, our hosts in Rehovot would enter the shelter when the warning alert sounded and wait at least ten minutes to see whether the siren would follow. The displaced Ramla residents at our hotel often ignored the warning and ran to the shelter only once the siren sounded. Then they waited five minutes and left, all-clear or no all-clear. The bar mitzvah guests usually came in at the warning but also departed before the all-clear after a siren had sounded.

We may have remained in the shelter longer than necessary. But entering calmly at the onset of the alert made far more sense to us. Even if the alert proved false, the warning gave one time to move deliberately rather than scramble for jackets and critical papers, or worry whether........

© The Times of Israel (Blogs)