Overseas Jews just don't quite 'get' what living in Israel this past year has really been like– and that's ok

In Israel we have a concept called 'zer lo yavin' which translates to 'A stranger doesn't understand.'

And that's what I have felt for the last year: it's the difference between sympathy and empathy, between actually living with your own 'boots on the ground' versus living far away. Now, there is no way on earth that I take for granted the incredible boundless support from Jews the world over, whether it be financial or social media advocacy or visiting Israel to boost the tourism economy or contributing to bbqs for soldiers or holding moving prayer rallies.

This support has been extremely valuable and we have all noticed it and appreciated it beyond words. But– and please don't be upset upset when I say this– it's just not the same as living in Israel during this past year.

Just like we watch the horrific frightening antisemitism rearing its super ugly head in American campuses and we are shocked and devastated, unless we have been on campus and heard the chanting and been blocked from entering our very own campuses that we pay oodles of money to, we understand but we don't entirely get it.

And it's the same with Jews who haven't been in Israel this year. You don't entirely 'get it'. The fear, the constantly restocking your mamad (safe room), the frantic checking of the news (even at 2am), the constant scanning for the sound of planes, the beautiful and devastating flag marches as residents of the city of a fallen IDF soldier come to pay their respects and line the streets waving flags, as his body is transported to the cemetery. Or your high schooler who missed months of maths because his teacher was called up to reserve IDF duty or the preparing for Shabbos and buying a radio so you can keep it on over Shabbos for the silent radio station, which will tell you what's going on if war breaks out. Or the price of tomatoes which just skyrocketed because Turkey won't let us import their tomatoes anymore. It's working at your desk or driving down the road when your favorite radio station stops its broadcast suddenly to report that there are sirens warning of incoming rocket or drone attacks.

It's all these little things, but under it all, it's an awful constant undercurrent of insecurity, of not knowing what tomorrow will bring.

It's the soldiers' parents who don't sleep anymore and the mefaked whose legs were blown off in Gaza. It's the politics and the fury and the endless protests to bring the hostages back. It's the people who had to flee their homes in the North and keep checking to see if their home has been hit by a rocket and the sullen rude angry teens and the Zaka volunteers who will never be quiet the same after what they saw.

You just don't get it– and that's ok. You aren't expected to.