One of the things I have found the hardest about this past year is the guilt.
I mean, let’s not kid, it hasn’t been a hard year, it’s been a hellish year, a year that started with national tragedy, and continued with death and devastation and the agony of knowing that our people are held captive by monsters in Gaza.
And even those who weren’t forced to flee their homes as Hezbollah rained rockets and drones down on the North, who didn’t experience the horrors of October 7th first-hand, who didn’t collect body parts, who didn’t lose their lives or their limbs in defense of our homeland, even for us- it’s been a year which feels on and off like being stabbed in your heart, a year when you didn’t think there were any more tears left within and that the sense of agony would never cease.
It was my 9 year old kid asking what difference it makes if a rocket hits you and you are lying down because if it hits you, you will die anyway. It was seeing the soldiers posted outside kids’ schools because little kids were now a target and the young moms with huge rifles slung casually across their back as they went grocery shopping and attending flag marches as we escorted our best and brightest on their final journeys. And I’m not even talking about the hostage families who are still re-living October 7th every single day as their loved ones languish in Gaza.
Of course, along with the ebony, there has been ivory, there have been outpourings of genuine good and kindness and unity, the likes of which I don't remember experiencing during the last 16 years that I have been privileged to live here. There have been so many meal trains and meal requests for soldiers in the air force, soldiers in the north and soldiers in the south, and sometimes, before I could even respond, all of the magnificent women in my community sprang into action, signing up to make meal after meal. This has been going on for 11 months and it’s both heartening and heart-warming. But honestly, when it comes to us Jews, I would expect nothing less.
Back to the guilt: In the country which still keeps part of my heart and where I lived for the first 27 years of my life, we didn’t have to contend with the fact that teenagers had to die or face lifelong injury, disability or horrific PTSD just so we could live there.
Here in Israel though- we do.
Because that’s the reality, baby-faced soldiers not even out of their teens carrying a weight they shouldn’t have to bear, baby-faced soldiers who sometimes come back on stretchers after paying the ultimate price so that we can live here, in G-d’s chosen land.
When we sit down at our beautifully laid Rosh Hashanah tables tomorrow night, let’s take a moment to really appreciate their gift and their sacrifice and to pray as hard as we can for all of this madness to end. And let it be a year of blessing and immense sweetness for us all, and for our brave and beautiful soldiers.
אין לי ארץ אחרת!
I have no other homeland but this and I wouldn't want it any other way.