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One of my favorite quotes comes from a somewhat strange place…
Mike Tyson.
“Everyone has a plan… until they get punched in the face.”
Disclaimer: Don’t worry, no one was punched in the writing of this newsletter.
LOL.
My wife and I went down to the center of Israel (Petah Tikva) on Monday night.
To sit shiva (condolence call) with our friend, whose father passed away.
Not from the war, but from a massive stroke.
Blessed is the True Judge. May his memory be always for a blessing.
We walked in, not really knowing what to expect.
The last shiva call we made was at someone’s house, with my wife’s math teacher from childhood and his wife and nieces present.
This was in a synagogue.
We walked in and it was PACKED.
Seemed like 200 people or more, in basically a white shed between high-rises that functions as a prayer hall.
Our friend’s father was very much Ashkenazi, surname Goldman.
Usually means things are quiet, understated.
This was bustling, everyone chatting loudly, eating meals.
And most people were Yemenite Jews or some beautiful fix of things.
We found out his second wife (our friend’s step-mom) is Yemenite, so it makes sense.
Anyways, people rush to offer us food.
We are like in another world.
This is the center of Israel, the real hustle and bustle.
Feels like a total contrast to where we are in Haifa, which is more workmanlike and understated.
There’s a saying I heard not long ago, “Jerusalem prays, Tel Aviv plays, Haifa works.”
We’re pretty close to Tel Aviv, so this shiva feels vaguely like a party, celebrating the man’s life.
We sat and chatted with out friend, met her half-siblings.
Ate the food, which was great. Shnitzel, rice and lentils, lots of salads.
We came toward the end of the meal, which meant someone was saying the Birkat Hamazon (blessing after the meal) over the microphone to cover everyone with the blessing.
I listened in.
The prayer was quite different from both the Ashkenazi and the usual Moroccan/Tunisian/North African Sephardic I’m used to at home and with family.
The endings of words were often -oaouu.
There was a blessing for the rebuilding of the temple.
It was much longer, with a different tune.
Really fascinating.
So we finish eating.
We planned to leave shortly thereafter, having paid our respects.
We hear booms in the background.
Definitely some sort of impacts.
Suddenly, everyone’s phones ring the alarm.
Yep, you guessed it.
The rocket alarm from the Home Front Command app.
(Continued below)
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—
All the 2 or 3 we received here in Haifa have been false alarms, so far.
This one felt quite real.
Ok, so 90 seconds to get to a shelter.
In this case, it was a staircase.
Again, there are 150+ people in the space at that time, an extended shed.
We all crowd into the staircase.
It’s sardines in there.
After 90 seconds, all the locals basically got bored and went back out.
My wife protested that they’re supposed to wait 10 minutes, per the Home Front Command.
These guys don’t care.
Sadly, they’re all too used to it, being a regular target of rockets from Gaza.
As we stayed for a couple extra minutes under the stairwell, it seemed obvious that we live in Lala Land, compared to these guys.
Not exactly stress-free, but also nothing compared to the hundreds of times these guys have had to run to the shelter or stairwell or safe room with their kids, elderly, etc., too often in the middle of the night.
The trauma is quite bad, beneath the celebration of life, even at a shiva.
People don’t talk about it.
We still have all the hostages in Gaza in constant peril, the tens and tens of thousands evacuated from the Gaza Envelope and living in hotels in Eilat and in the center, the evacuees from the north.
This isn’t as bad, supposedly, but whom are we kidding here?
One of my closest friends also lives in Petah Tikva and she’s had to take both her little son (4) and her elderly mother, who has limited mobility and dementia, into the shelter all these times.
Anyways, we came back out.
My wife checked the map of rocket impacts.
The entire center of the country and Gaza Envelope was peppered with tens and tens of rockets, probably a couple hundred all total.
Because of the incredible Iron Dome, which shoots down hundreds and thousands of rockets, preventing all but very few impacts on residential buildings and people, maybe people here got too accustomed to this insanity.
I mean, how is it possibly normal to get used to running from rockets into the shelter at random times of the day and night?!
This is Israeli reality, unfortunately.
We’ve been largely spared and thus at a totally different level of understanding and appreciation.
This morning, the Technion university president, Uri Sivan, spoke in front of a large crowd gathered to support the “Bring Them Home NOW“ campaign to bring our hostages back.
A singer performed Hatikva (Israel’s national anthem) and another poignant, heavy song or two.
It looks like we can mostly just speak up, speak out, print posters and bumper stickers, move chairs between ceremonies and words between posts, but not much else other than prayer and reciting Psalms to help.
It’s both heartbreaking and banal.
All the same, we were all moved.
50 hostages should be home tomorrow sometime.
The political and geopolitical baggage is unbearably heavy.
Who decides which women and children get released, and which stay behind?
Who decides which soldiers get harmed because of the loss of momentum in the war effort?
Who takes responsibility for released Gazan “children” (18 year-olds who failed as suicide bombers and stabbers or murderers) after they come back and try to kill us again?
How about the other hostages and their families?
Who takes responsibility for giving Hamas this oxygen when it’s getting hammered from all sides?
How about Hizballah and Iran licking their chops?
It’s a giant clusterf*ck, there’s no other way to see it.
We’re all screwed, either way, but at least the families of the 50 will see their loved ones tomorrow, with G-d’s help.
We value life above all else in Israel, and this is both our greatest virtue and our gravest threat.
Find me another way from the comfort of your couch and screen.
Good luck.
And that brings me to my point today.
We all have a plan until we get punched in the face.
We all have visions of what we want… until the rocket alarm sounds.
What will you do when the rockets hit and you have to run for your life?
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Blessings for safety and peace and health to all our brave soldiers and civilians on the home front. We pray for their safe and quick return, along with the hostages, alive and well.
Y’all are doing an amazing job refilling my cup of joe. Keep it coming!
Oh, and tell all your friends, too 🙂