Simchat Torah morning began as most holidays do. I started on my way to synagogue, bidding passerbys a Shabbat Shalom and Hag Sameach, as is customary. It was a peaceful Jerusalem morning. It reminded me of the Shabbat mornings on the Upper West Side of Manhattan, reveling in the quiet rarely seen on those bustling streets.All at once, a siren broke the tranquility.I grew up in the suburbs of Philadelphia and a similar noise was used to indicate a local fire. The station would sound the alarm to alert the volunteer squad. I almost ignored it altogether, but then I remembered there is no such protocol in Israel. I turned around to see chaos at the bottom of the street. People were running at full speed in every direction. A rocket was headed our way.I sprinted for the closest building.
The ideal location would have been a bomb shelter, but there wasn’t time for that. I quickly descended the stairwell to the basement and sat alone under the stairs. At times like these, we’re instructed to stay in a protected area for 10 minutes. That’s plenty of time to wonder how your wife and children are faring, and pray for both their and all of Israel’s safety.These events are, unfortunately, all too common in our region. When I returned to check on my family, who thank God were safe, we all agreed that this was most likely the extent of it and I made my way to shul. We had no idea what was coming.Sirens are not the sounds of the holidays
The sirens continued for more than half of the day. Every few minutes, the congregation quickly fled into the stairwell and continued praying. During each of these trips, the siren’s wail would last for a few minutes and then we’d hear a loud explosion in the distance. We wondered if the rocket had made contact or if the Iron Dome had kept us safe. We prayed for the latter.
FOR SOME reason – maybe out of sheer stupidity – we continued this routine for the duration of the morning. In between each round of rockets, we danced with the Torah, singing such songs as “vesamachtah behagecha”: “And you shall be happy on your holiday.”If it wasn’t a commandment, I’m not sure we could have done it that day. I believe I counted seven rocket barrages during this time – the same number of circles we make around the synagogue with the Torah to celebrate the completion of the yearly reading cycle.After the dancing ended, the Torah was read. Toward the end of the reading, as is traditionally done, all of the children came up to the bimah, and a tallit was spread over them. We sang the verse from Genesis about protecting our youth. It was hard to hold back the tears.When the song ended, the sirens blared once more and we all ran for cover. Just ahead of me was a seven-year-old boy carrying his three-year-old sister to safety. That image will not soon leave my mind.As emotionally drained as we were from the morning’s chaos, we had no idea how lucky we were. On my way home, I passed someone who wasn’t wearing a kippah. I inquired if he knew what was going on. His response was chilling, “You don’t want to know.”The stories we heard after the holiday, and those that we’re still hearing from the South of Israel, are just too horrifying to comprehend. “How could we have been dancing with the Torah at a time like this?” I thought. But that’s always been our tradition. We never give up hope, no matter how bad it gets.
I’VE BEEN asked, mostly by my non-religious friends, why I’m Jewish. To those of us who were born Jewish, religious or not, the question seems odd. It’s almost like being asked, why are you human?’ It’s just who you are. But I’ve spent a good deal of time thinking about this, because if you don’t know why you’re Jewish, then you could just as easily be a member of any other religion.I’m Jewish because of moments like this. Judaism, boiled down to its most fundamental roots, is a moral call. The Jewish people have a message for the world. That message is not that everyone needs to be Jewish. It’s not even that everyone needs to be religious. Our message is that everyone needs to be a morally decent person.Every last one of us, Jew, gentile, secular, and atheist alike – we all have a responsibility to bring peace to this world. That may seem like an odd message at a time of war, but this is precisely the war we’re fighting. Those who attack us, be it Hamas, Hezbollah, Iran, or all of the above, as is presently the case, are terrorist organizations committed to the opposite philosophy.Don’t be fooled; they do not seek land nor have they been politically slighted. These terrorist groups want nothing more than to wipe the Jews off the face of the earth. Just look at the footage emerging from the southern border for five seconds and you’ll understand that.But if they were to succeed, their campaign would not end with us. These terror groups, if given their way, will wipe out all of the West. This is their stated goal, and we have no reason not to believe them. It is for this reason that Israel must be victorious.I pray that the IDF delivers a swift and crushing blow to our enemies, and that all of our soldiers and hostages come home safely, for both Israel and for the whole world.The writer is a rabbi, a wedding officiant, and a mohel who performs ritual circumcisions and conversions across the world. Based in Efrat, he is the founder of Magen HaBrit, an organization protecting the practice of brit milah and the children who undergo it.