Really long time, so much to say.
6 months into this war, almost 7. On one hand, I'm the most blessed man on Earth with the most incredible wife that ever existed and the most amazing, delicious kids I could have ever wished for.
On the other hand, my nation is in immense pain and anguish. This post's title comes from a David Horovitz Times of Israel column way back in December.
The nations of the world pour symbolic bags of salt on our wounds. Never have we felt, to this extent, such a Jew among the nations (I use the word Jew with great pride; but here, sadly, as the age-old slur, as we experience it these days).
While we thank the Biden administration and Congress from the bottom of our hearts for the immense material and practical support (and let's not forget the Obama administration's role in spearheading the development of the Iron Dome defense system), it is accompanied with such consistently distasteful sentiment from our allies.
So, aside from our unwavering non-Jewish supporters like Yoseph Haddad, Douglas Murray, Congressman Ritchie Torres and MEP Assita Kanko (I 💗 THEM ALL), we just feel so very alone in the world.
So, my friends and neighbors have literally answered the call and risked their lives in Gaza, on the front lines of the war against fundamental Islam, aka (that's right) evil incarnate (the world seems to have forgotten that "small detail" about Hamas and all of our enemies). These friends of mine and friend's sons write a letter to their family in case they won't survive the war. And some undergrad at Columbia thinks they can lecture us and our soldiers about war.
One of the nicest families in town, the ones who hosted our farewell event from the previous neighborhood, lost their son Itai in Gaza, killed by evil incarnate who booby-trapped a building the unit he commanded was operating in. Another neighbor and friend, an absolute bulldog on the basketball court at the pickup game here, was wounded in Gaza - targeted by an anti-tank missile because he is an officer. Did everybody forget that evil incarnate Hamas fights in street clothes, yet uses our rule-playing against us to kill our finest? And wound my friend? Anyway, this friend miraculously survived, but he is now in rehab, hoping to be able to walk again. Please pray for his full recovery, in our tradition when we pray for a medical recovery, we say the Hebrew name of the person and their mother's name - it's Yisrael ben Aliza.
But these same friends, and all our brothers and sisters, the best people I know, have been doing so much to take down those who killed us, who avowed to keep doing it again and again until we cease to exist. So many who murdered, butchered, and did unthinkable things to our babies, women, and older adults, and who would do it all again, have been killed or captured. We have brought so much light and blotted out so much darkness.
Yet still, so many are still in unthinkable conditions, hostages in Gaza, including another neighbor's grandson.
Every one of the seemingly infinite TWHJ moments over the last half + year (I am truly sorry to link to myself, that's obnoxious, but, well... please forgive me) brings me back 26 years.
For any high school or college friends, who most vividly remember me looking like this, I am almost definitely their only friend who lives in Israel. I was That Jewish Guy for them back then, and I took it up many notches since. So way back before I actually observed Jewish law...
I went on a "walkout" with my fraternity to Columbus for the '98 Michigan - Ohio State game. Running around my off-campus house to pack up for the road trip, I broke my toe on a door hinge. So late that night, on the way out of a Columbus bar, I was easy prey (and the most visible Michigan man among my fraternity brothers, wearing this oh so Maize shirt) for a bitter bitter Buckeye fan, who shoved me into High Street, not checking for traffic.
In this picture, a mere 8 days later, I am unscathed, by the grace of G-d.
Where am I going with this, you ask?
The foolish mistake on my part - a) wearing that shirt, and more importantly, b) screaming with my bros "1, 8, and 1" - ol' John Cooper's record against us at the time (the next day, he picked up his second, and last W). Obviously I had no business doing a) or b).
But all these TWHJ moments, and there are way too many to count, feel like that - getting shoved into the biggest street in town. Tom Brady got absolutely hammered by the Ohio State defense that next day, and very impressively kept bouncing up despite our never having a chance in that game.
That's what the Jewish people have always done. Bounce right back up, BUT, we win the big games even when we have no business doing so (as Brady would of course go on to do in the NFL). But it is really hard, exhausting, and man, we could use a hand to pick us up off the mat some times.
Don't let anything I've written lead you to believe that I think our government is perfect. It is abundantly clearly anything but.
But our army is a pack of lions, of my heroes. One of those neighbor-friends said towards the end of a months-long stint in Gaza - "We're the world's Special Forces Unit in this battle against fundamental Islamic terrorism. But instead of thanking us..."
For now, I must catch some zzz's before the Seder tomorrow night, recalling Pharoah oppressing our people, and G-d saving us, miracle after miracle.
Everyone here experienced the miracle of our air defense against the evil incarnate Iranian regime's onslaught last Sunday morning. We're talking Grade A, biblical level miracles, folks. That fell on my father's yahrtzeit (Hebrew anniversary of his passing) - Israel and our international and regional partners working in harmony just like the best of his performances with so many bands and ensembles and choirs over his decades-long career.
I'll wrap up with my pitch for you to listen to Shemekia Copeland - one of my favorite blues singers. Paraphrasing this heartfelt number, "Don't Whisper that you support Israel, say it out loud." The good guys will prevail, with G-d's help, and your support. G-d bless y'all.
