Tomorrow morning at 10:00 am Israel time, for two haunting minutes, sirens will sound from the river to the sea; in every city, town, village, and corner of Israel. At precisely 10:00 am, the country will come to a sudden halt. Everyone will stop what they are doing. Every car, bus, and train will simply stop; while on every highway, in every store, classroom, and street, 7.4 million Jewish citizens of the Jewish State will stand as one, in silence.

Tomorrow morning at 10:00 am Israel time, we will look around at one another, and at our beautiful miracle-on-the-Mediterranean country, and we will know: Had we been alive just 80 years ago, chances are we would have met our helpless end as ashes scaling the walls of a brick chimney that spewed forth the incinerated remnants of countless Jews, or as Jew-fat bars of soap, or Jew-skin lampshades. We will know that there is nothing we could have done to escape that grisly fate at the diabolical hands of an unusually evil regime that had set its sights on the annihilation of the Jews. We will know that we were alone, and that no country in the world was prepared to help, in any way.

Tomorrow morning at 10:00 am Israel time, at the very same moment, we will all be intimately aware that once again an unusually evil regime has arisen, and that it has set its sights on the annihilation of us all. Together we will carry the weight of awareness; that this morally putrid regime has successfully reached the nuclear and ballistic threshold of being able to complete its extermination—from the river to the sea—of a middle eastern malignancy called the Jews. But something will be different on this Yom Hashoah.

Tomorrow morning at 10:00 am Israel time, we will mourn a past we cannot fathom, and at the same time, we will do so knowing that we are living in the unfolding midst of a fundamental historic shift. For the first time in over 2,000 years, the Family-Nation of Israel has reestablished its homeland; a home from which we can now strive to fulfill our collective mission of being a source of blessing and light to the world, and from where we can fight like lions against the Jihadi beasts that long to finish what the Nazis and their henchmen could not.

Tomorrow morning at 10:00 am Israel time, we will hear a sound that, beginning just before Purim, and ending on Passover, was the soundtrack of our lives. The sound of the siren. Over the last six weeks there were hundreds of moments when sirens sounded, and when we gathered in shelters as clustered missiles of death rained down on our tiny little country. In the confines of those shelters, we comforted children, calmed pets, sang songs, posted humorous reels, hosted parties, even married, and of course, we prayed. We prayed not only for the safety of our families and neighbors and country, but also for the success of every Israeli and American pilot that was flying over the skies of Iran, with the goal of insuring that our skies would soon be free of the nuclear and ballistic storm clouds that have been gathering over our heads.

Tomorrow morning at 10:00 am Israel time, for two haunting, humbling, and yet proud minutes, we will stand, as one, in silence.

© The Times of Israel (Blogs)