Rabbi's Message

Among the many lessons in this week’s Torah portion, Beha’alotekha, is the lesson about the power of words.  Aaron and Miriam gossip about Moses’ wife and this misdeed leads not only to family turmoil, but also, punishment from God.  Words matter. Today we find ourselves in a world where all too often people throw around words indiscriminately; in ways that lead to misunderstanding, hatred, and sometimes even violence. Whatever we think about Greta Thunberg, her telling the world that “Israel kidnapped me,” as she was given water and food by IDF soldiers and brought safely to Israel (and ultimately home) demonstrates not only an incredible lack of judgment, but also a lack of compassion and understanding.

So today, I want to share words that offer a much deeper level of reflection while capturing a sense of compassion, hope, and truth that we so desperately need right now. I have a friend, Yoni, who I know through the Wexner Foundation, who has spent the majority of the last 615 (since October 7th, 2023) in Gaza serving as a reservist in the IDF. He regularly writes of his experience.  Here is what he shared earlier today:

Everything is covered in dirt.

615 days of war, it’s no surprise that there’s a layer of dirt on everything.

My uniform.

My hair.

The phones sitting outside our operation center.

The white-turned-brown car rented for reserve duty.

My keyboard when I am home on leave.

The ‘’Together We Will Win’ flags on the Tel Aviv train stations.

It’s hard not to see it as a metaphor. There is a layer of weariness on the entire nation. The long tail of a war that started with strength and unity, with clear and pure goals, and now… it’s not clear where we are now, nor where we go from here.

A friend caught me on my last leave. “You’ve started writing to an Israeli audience

more than to your friends outside of Israel,” he said. And indeed he is correct. Lately it’s a lot easier for me to identify with the reality in Israel and the questions we are asking ourselves, than with the international conversation about Israel. Two different worlds.

And yet I believe that they have something in common: the worry, the fear, that layers of dirt are distorting our vision. Whether it is our view of the horizon, the strategy that will bring an end to this war – or eyes wide open to what we do every day, to our tactics on the field of battle.

I live in a world of dirt. But dirt is superficial, pure and simple. Here in the field, where everything is covered in dirt, something sharp and pure burns underneath. And that something is an army of people with eyes and with minds and with hearts.

Our leaders here are conducting negotiations over political power, and around the world there’s a growing conversation about evils perpetrated by Israel. But here in the field, under layers of dirt, we have not lost our moral compass, nor have we lost sight of our goal.

Last night, when a Palestinian baby fell and incurred a serious head injury, hundreds of soldiers and dozens of tanks and artillery batteries and detonation specialists held their fire and paused their missions and turned aside their guns in order to ensure a safe emergency ride to the hospital.

Also last night, after weeks and months of effort underground, another two bodies of our hostages were recovered and returned to their families and to their homeland for burial.

This is what is happening in the field. This is what war looks like when it is conducted by the soldiers of the IDF. And there is no doubt that this is why I am a proud reservist - tired, yes - but no less proud for it.

Underneath all of the dirt.

Words matter.  Yoni’s words are too many for a tweet.  But they need to be shared.  They need to be shared because refreshingly they do not stem from ignorance or hate. Rather, they verbalize a struggle between supporting Israel despite not necessarily agreeing with all of its leaders and decisions. They verbalize what it means to choose the moral high ground, even amidst the messiness and the “dirt.” They verbalize what it truly means to say Am Yisrael Hai.

There is so much dirt. Regardless, may we always remember that underneath the dirt there is still hope, morality, and a future to be found.

Shabbat Shalom.