My friend, Michael, spoke so movingly about his trip up north to bring food to soldiers that I asked him to write a guest post to share with you. Thank you, Michael!!
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ONE DAY ON THE BORDER OF LEBANON
By Michael Yosef
One minute he is dancing with the Torah on Shabbas Simchas Torah, October 7, 2023. Not
engaged in deep learning. Not reading from the Torah. Holding it, dancing with it, singing with
it. Just like last year and the year before; just like we have done for the many centuries before
of our people holding the Torah close… as the Torah holds us close.
For some the dance stopped. The call came. And reserve soldiers left the shul. They were
being called up. We knew something was going on for them to need to leave on Shabbas on
Shminei Atzeret on Simchas Torah. But, none of us knew or could imagine the extent of what
happened. We figured more missiles. We had no idea that over 1,200 Jews had been murdered
and over 240 had been stolen from their homes, their land, their lives.
Those of us who stayed in shul, the majority, continued to dance. We read the beginning of the
Torah, the creation of the world… at the same time as the destruction of many Jews’ worlds
had come upon them. We had no idea what was going on. Would we have continued to be
able to dance on Simchas Torah had we known? Would it have been appropriate to continue
dancing had we known? I don’t know.
Babies, Holocaust survivors, mothers, teens, fathers, men, women, old and young murdered
over the course of a short time that Shabbas morning. Souls ripped from their bodies; their
journeys on this earth abruptly aborted by the barbaric anger, hate, and blame of a people who
would rather project their own communal self-abhorrence onto others rather than use their
resources to build a good life for themselves.
Whether you are in the United States, Europe, Israel, or elsewhere, how do you process this
information? “Largest Massacre of Jews since the Holocaust”. Shock, sadness, anger, grief,
Hashem, davening, confusion, action. ACTION?
Hundreds of thousands of soldiers and reservists made their way to the southern border. The
Prime Minister and the government began to strategize. Soldiers also sent to the northern
borders with Lebanon and Syria to reinforce to prevent and invasion from the North.
Soon after, the country began to mobilize. My friend wrote: “My son is in this unit on the
Lebanese border, but they don’t have enough bullet-proof jackets and helmets. We are raising x
dollars.” Mass fundraising. Mass mobilization of equipment, often from citizens helping troops.
Food sent to the fronts. The government might not have been immediately ready to provide all
the logistics for the unprecedented call up the reserves. But the people of Israel were ready,
and we didn’t even know it. Restaurants closed down voluntarily to make food for the soldiers.
Citizens became de facto command centers for volunteer mobilization.
What could I do? I went with a friend to the Old City, special permission to drive into the Kotel
Plaza to pick up food that a yeshiva had prepared. I took some minutes to davven at the Kotel.
Food is now packed in the car, and we are on our way up north. I didn’t want to miss a special
weekly chavruta (Torah learning with a friend) that I already had scheduled, so I brought my
computer and did a video call; computer and Gemara in front of me; friend on the screen.
Learning, while my other friend drove. The chavruta was good, and now we are half way to our
destination. After a few hours of driving, we are a few kilometers from the northern border
with Lebanon, right on the coast of the Mediterranean Sea, and there is a line of traffic. This is
not 405 freeway in Los Angeles or Manhattan in rush hour. This is a small street almost at tip of
the country. It must be a security situation. It is the first time since October 7 that I have not
been sleeping or connected to the news of the moment. I got lost in the chavruta in the
pleasant drive with my friend. I said we should like online to see if we can get a better since of
what is happening.
We found it. Just moments before, the northern border had become the most active it had
been since the start of the war. Missiles flying towards Kiryat Shmone. Infiltration alerts for this
town and that town. I got on my computers maps to see where these towns were. They were
not in the exact place where we were, but they were 20 minutes away, which felt far enough
away at that time to feel “safe” continuing our journey to deliver food and support the soldiers
up north. But, we were still stuck in this line. I could see some police lights ahead. We figured
this line is connected to what we were reading online. We see a solider approach the car in
front of us and then finally approaching us. He said there is a security issue and that they are
not even allowing ambulances in. We were just minutes from our destination but could go no
further. We asked how long? He said it could be an hour or an hour and half. He didn’t know
and said we could wait in the traffic line if wanted to. We turned around and went to a close by
gas station. My friend called his contact back in the old city to report our status. We then called
the contact at the base. One of the contacts was also in the traffic line and said it was easing up.
We got back in the car, drove back north and the line was gone. From where the line had been
our destination was less than a minute away.
We arrived. We felt privileged to be on this ad hoc base, which was really an environmental
field school where the army reserves had set up camp. We delivered the food, and the guys
were so thankful. They are risking their lives for us, really for the whole Jewish world; I would
even say for Western civilization. We? We took some hours out of our work day. They were
thanking us. They were thanking us? It seemed ludicrous. As if they were giving us a billion
dollars, and we were given them 25 cents. And yet, they gratitude was genuine. They were
touched that we drove from far away to being this to them. The food was much appreciated by
them; for me, it was an excuse to send them the love and support of our nation, of all of us who
were not fighting; to let them know we support them, we are davening for them, we are
learning for them. One soldier showed us pictures of the engagement party he had just had the
field school the week before, week one after the war. His fiancé is the granddaughter of a Rosh
yeshiva. She came to the base, and they made a beautiful engagement party. I got to see the
pictures. I got to see his excitement, and we had a small moment of celebration of life. Another
soldier wanted to tell us that he is a tour guide, and that he wanted to take us on a tour when
the war ends. We got his number. We took pictures. We davened Maariv. And, then they got
ready. They were going on a mission. As they were preparing for their mission, getting suited
up, we got back into our comfortable car and moved onto the next base.
The first base was a Hilton compared to the second one. The second one was a dirt lot where
they had set up a bunch of tents. These soldiers greeted us, asking do you want coffee, seltzer,
something to drink. Beautiful Jewish neshamas. We engaged in deep conversation and again
tried to convey that the Jewish world and much of the Western world is behind them,
supporting them. It’s one thing to have a deep philosophical conversation about Light and
Darkness over the Shabbas table or in one’s youth in the later hours of the night on a college
campus. It’s another thing when the solder in front of you is on the front lines of fighting for the
Light against perpetrators of darkness. Yet, we waxed philosophical together. They knew they
were on the front line, not just Israel’s front line, but THE front line of what we are doing here
on Earth as a people as a species, to bring more good into the world. This group of soldiers
were actually a logistics group. Their purpose is to bring food and supplies to the soldiers that
are really on the front line, living in bushes right on the border with Lebanon; ready for any
moment they are needed to protect from infiltration or invasion. They are guarding the lives of
the rest of us who can go home and eat, spend time with family, work, learn. They had not
showered for two weeks and only got supplies once a day from this group. We are not able to
visit the group right on the border, but we brought food and support that hopefully got to them
also.
On the way home, there were some security check points. We stopped at those and gave them
food, got out of the car, talked with them. There was an ineffable feeling that I got from each
of these groups of soldiers. The invisible guards that normally protect us from seeing each
other’s deepest humanity seemed to be on sabbatical. It felt a bit like how I imagine it might be
when Moshiach comes. A sweetness, a place of connection, mutual appreciation, togetherness.
Even elation. Then we went to visit a special place in Meron where Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai is
buried. We davened by his kever. And then we went home. The whole experience reinforced
that we were already home with our people in Israel.
We did one small thing while the soldiers continue to fight and protect, with Hashem’s help,
every day. The soldiers have their mission. Each of us also has our mission at this time. May
Hashem bless us all to have the moral clarity and courage to stand up, to speak, to donate, to
put ourselves on the line to create a better future today.
