I’ve had the dubious privilege of living in Israel during eight wars: the Sinai Campaign, the Six Day War, Yom Kippur, two Lebanon campaigns, three Gaza invasions; and now this, the worst by far, Operation Swords of Iron.
In the first two wars, my husband served as a soldier; and from then on, our sons and grandsons were inducted, now serving on all fronts, either in regular service or as reservists. I even have one son who is 40 years old, father of eight children, who immediately volunteered to fight on Simchat Torah.
And that’s the story that I want to tell about this war. We’ll hear plenty about the cruel attacks on the southern settlements, about the murders and the heroic defenders in the early hours of the invasion. But I have also been witness to an outpouring of giving, unmatched at any period of time that I can remember. It seems that everyone not actually fighting feels the need to do something, and the outpouring of love and support for those attacked and suffering is really an avalanche.
Reservists called on Simchat Torah
Let’s start with the reserve forces, many of whom were called up in the middle of hakafot on Simchat Torah. Usually, a large percentage of reservists with Tzav 8 [emergency call-up notice] don’t show up because they couldn’t be reached, had some good excuses for not heeding the call, or suddenly got sick. But this time, the report is that 150% reservists turned up, sometimes taking extreme measures to get to their meeting place, many with their guns and uniforms. There weren’t enough guns to give them all, and some reservists were turned back.
My nephew who is studying in New York heard about the surprise attack in the South and immediately rushed to the airport. He was not alone. A long line of former Israeli soldiers were already there, and the El Al staff had to decide who should get priority to board – officers, those with special expertise, pilots, special unit fighters, etc. The flight attendants even gave up their seats so that more men could leave, until the next few planes took off.
In Israel, long-retired officers or those who still volunteered, if over age or with more than six children, insisted on being included, eager to get to the front. One man in his 70s, the CEO of a large organization, still volunteers on the home front unit and turned up Saturday night in uniform, ready to receive orders.
Then there is the outpouring of food and equipment, mountains of which have been collected throughout the country and transported to army units and to the refugees of the destroyed kibbutzim. The packages were received gratefully by the survivors because when they fled or were ousted, they left with nothing – no baby bottles, no diapers, no changes of clothes, underwear, or even shoes. The soldiers, too, couldn’t take the most basic supplies with them; and since they were called up on yom tov, even their tefillin had to be left at home.
Children were entertained by volunteer clowns and actors. Since schools are closed, the wives of the thousands of soldiers called up had to deal not only with their worries but also a houseful of kids with nothing to do. People offered to baby sit – even students from abroad. Many students were beseeched by their parents to come home immediately (who can blame the panicky parents?), but some stayed. Boys from several yeshivot cleaned out bomb shelters, which tend to fill up with excess items, or carried boxes of food and supplies to waiting transports.
Some creative and necessary services have sprung up. My grandson was one of those whose tefillin were left at home, in Dimona. His father posted a WhatsApp asking anyone who was traveling north to take his son’s tefillin. Within 20 minutes, he got a call from Shlomo, who lives in Tel Aviv, who said he could meet him at the blood bank in Jerusalem. My son gladly made the trip to the capital. He discovered that Shlomo had gone to Jerusalem because he couldn’t find a blood donation center in Tel Aviv that wasn’t overwhelmed. Shlomo explained that since he can’t serve in the army, he and others have taken it upon themselves to make deliveries to soldiers wherever needed, like my grandson’s tefillin. Thus after giving blood, he gladly undertook another two-hour drive to my grandson’s base.
Meanwhile, my son decided that if he was already there, he’d also donate blood. Not so easy. There was a line of many more prospective donors in front of him. He waited over three hours in what was a most unconventional line in Israel – nobody pushed, nobody kvetched, nobody tried to pull rank and get in front of others. Moreover, when he finally got to the overworked staff taking blood, they were smiling, courteous, joking, and efficient.
Another unusual service started because the average Israeli is now glued to the news every waking hour. So someone started an app, daily compiling the latest events for children in two age groups, since they are also very involved but don’t always understand the newscasters. Another man put out a warning against donating money for the war effort to a site that was proven to be fake. Someone else took the trouble to arrange tax deduction status for legitimate funding. So even in the field of finances, there are innovative ways to help.
And, of course, there are mass prayer sessions. Entire yeshivot fasted last Tuesday; and thousands of people are reciting Tehilim. In my neighborhood alone, there were 78 divisions of the Book of Psalms by Tuesday and still going strong. Equally amazing are the hundreds of people in safe areas of the country who are inviting those living on the border or whose homes were destroyed to stay with them, full board included.
I received two notices to donate money for khaki-colored tzizit to be worn under a uniform. In one area, there is a room full of yeshiva boys engaged in tying the strings of tzizit and getting them ready for distribution. A YouTube video is circulating of a man driving up to a lonely outpost and offering the soldier food. The soldier declines and says, “I really only wanted a pair of tzizit.” So the donor takes off his tzizit and gives them to the soldier. He accepts them and takes the donor’s phone number, saying, “So that I can return them to you when I come from the war, thanks to the protection of these tzitzit.”
Another son of mine, who serves in a military unit that informs families that their son or daughter has been killed or is missing, is hosting two of his daughters whose husbands were called up. They decided to take the children down south to one of the camps where survivors were housed temporarily and distribute toys. One daughter, who is studying animal therapy, brought along some caged guinea pigs, which became the attraction for many of the children who had undergone so much trauma. One little boy, pointing to the cage, said, “That guinea pig wants to go back into his mamad (bomb shelter), doesn’t he?”
The second daughter, who is a social worker, started talking to the women watching the scene. The women started pouring out their recent experiences, their fears, their frustrations. Inadvertently, that visit turned into a venting session, an important part of dealing with trauma. When the family left, they were inundated with expressions of gratitude. Without any intention of doing anything more meaningful than taking the children/grandchildren out into the countryside, they had been a great help to others.
Am Yisrael (the nation of Israel) is measured by how it deals with crisis, and the score this time is A+++.
May the atmosphere and desire to help one another continue even after the war. ■