So last week saw me flying out to Israel last minute to show my support for my Rabbi who lost his mother and to show my support for a country that is under fire. Having just returned, I wanted to reflect back on my feelings and state of mind (as a person who loves Israel), and to help others understand the state of mind of the people living in a country so deeply rooted in its history.

Let me start by saying that I do not normally speak politics on this blog and I am not trying to project anything here. This posting is like all my posts – my personal diary on what I tasted, felt, and heard during my week in a country at war. Please understand the settings. First this trip happened during the three weeks and nine days, two sets of the saddest days in our history, which culminates on Tisha B’Av (the day of the destruction of our holy temple) – which is in a few days.

Jewish history is not a linear timeline, it is rather a spiral staircase where each day reappears a year later. The days starting in the three weeks are not days of joy, because those very days are littered with historical fact after historical fact proving the days are bad for Jews and Gentiles alike. I do not like to travel in the three weeks, it always turns out badly, broken cameras, cars breaking down, insane traffic out of nowhere. Essentially, it is like living with Murph on steroids!

But, family and friends are not just a convenience for when things are going well, they are a part of your life no matter when and where you are. So, when I heard my Rabbi’s mother passed, I decided it was time to visit the Holy Land – no matter the circumstances. I will not bore you with the last minute planning and miles tickets that popped open out of nowhere, because of the war – essentially it was Murphy’s Law tempered with good luck – an interesting combination to say the least.

Before, I made it to Israel, I heard the news and I heard the stories and friends told me it is dangerous, it is not a good time to go – my response was – THIS IS THE EXACT TIME TO GO! This is the time to show our support for a land that is littered with history of our forefathers and their fore-parents! This is a place that is imbued with our physical lives and memories – to a point that one cannot turn away when sorrow is near.

The trip was uneventful, thankfully Murph was a no show! I arrived into Israel a few minutes early – thanks to good winds and tidings, and I got my car and drove to the shiva house, where my Rabbi was “sitting” for 7 days. It was here where I started to take in the atmosphere that is Israel, to be around people who were there for the correct reasons – in this case – to console a family that was part of the larger Bnai Brak area for more than 50 years! My Rabbi told me stories of when he was young and he could open his windows and see the ocean, that is not the case any longer. Bnai Brak has grown and expanded to fill the entire area around Ramat Gan and its surroundings and no matter where you go in Bnai Brak, The Chazon Ish is almost everywhere. He passed away before my Rabbi was born, but he told me stories of how he had classes in the Chazon Ish’s house, and played in his backyard.

The environment may have been one of sorrow, but the mood was one of hope and transition. Clearly, there were times where the people coming to console the mourners had to run to shelter when the sirens went off, a warning of potentially impending attacks. Thankfully, though Bnai Brak and Tel Aviv have been attacked countless times by missiles, the Iron Dome has done its job in protecting its inhabitants.

After spending many hours, I made my way to Jerusalem, where I was staying and meet some friends and went to sleep. The next day, was truly one of my more sad days in a long time. I was not in the mood of going to wineries, I wanted to visit my Rabbi again, but things did not work out – as it turned out that Israel had started its offensive into the Gaza Strip, and in the fray, a fellow American citizen, Max Steinberg, had sadly fallen. He would be one of many more, that bravely gave of their soul for a country yearning for life – a truly sad twist of fate.

He was being buried a few miles from where I was staying so I and some 30,000 other people, from many different walks of life, made their way to Herzl Memorial Cemetery to pay our last respects to a fellow Country man – who paid the highest cost for a country he felt deserved his time and immense talents. The ceremony was moving in both English and Hebrew, no dry eyes were present that day, all the people I saw, were deeply moved and were there till the last minute to pay tribute to a person who loved the country as much as they all did, and did so till his last dying breath.

Sadly, another soldier passed as well, Dmitri Levitas, and he was also buried in Mount Herzl a few hours later. Going to two funerals in a day, reminded of my last trip to Israel, where right before I left, hours before my plane trip home, I sadly went to two funerals, less than 24 hours apart, of friends and family, both buried in the Bet Shemesh cemetery. I was not expecting my last visit’s sorrows to engulf me again, but that is the three weeks, that is the cycle of time which we cannot control, and that is what living is all about. I was truly down at that point to say the least, but again, it was the people in this country, hard nosed people, people who live in a land filled with grief and hope, that saw me through it all. One never really is alone in Israel, you may think no one knows you or no one sees you, but that could not be farther from the truth.