Thursday, August 29, 2024
It’s not the first time, but it’s
definitely the worst time
Living through another war with Gaza
Ken Spiro
It’s Saturday night in Jerusalem. The sabbath is over and I
turn my phone back on. (As an observant, Orthodox Jew, I do not use my phone,
TV, radio, etc. on the sabbath). Earlier that morning, while I was in the
synagogue for prayers, the air raid sirens began to wail. “Here we go again.” I
thought. I wasn’t that concerned. I had been through this many times before and
was confident that the Iron Dome missile system would protect us from any
serious harm. I didn’t have any direct
access to the news during the day, but rumors were spreading that something very
serious had happened.
My WhatsApp was
overflowing with messages from the US.
“Hi Ken, I hope you, your family, and friends are safe and will be safe!
I am thinking of you during these terrible days. How are you handling it?”
How can you begin to explain what it’s like to be literally
in the middle of a war to someone in the US?
America is a huge country with hundreds of millions of people-a country
bordered by two friendly nations that haven’t been invaded since 1812.
Israel is a tiny country, the size of New Jersey, populated
by 7 million Jews and surrounded by hostile neighbors. Security, wars, terrorism, and military service are much more a part of the Israeli experience than they are
for anyone living in North America.
I came to Israel, from the US, after college, for what I
thought would be 3 months and that was 41 years ago. I got married, raised 5 kids, and served in
the army. Four of my five children also served in the IDF-Israel Defense Force
(Israel has mandatory military service and the majority of Israelis spend up to
three years, from 18 to 21 in the military and can do up to 20 years of reserve
duty after) Three of them were combat medics and they all saw action. War is a sad feature of Israel’s history and
every one of my kids, and everyone in Israel for that matter, knows someone,
friend or family, who fell in battle. Memorial Day here is a very different
experience than in the US.
My oldest son, Tzvi,
fought in the first Gaza War in 2008-2009 and my second oldest son, Daniel, spent
38 days in Gaza as a reservist during the war in Gaza in 2014. Gaza is only around 50 miles from Jerusalem,
but during the war, it felt like a thousand miles away. Combat soldiers are not
allowed to take their phones into battle. Before Daniel would go back into Gaza,
he would call us for a minute. “Mom, Dad, I’m ok. Talk to you in a week. I love you.” And then 168 hours of worry and
anxiety until we heard his voice again.
The next thing I did last Saturday night was to call all my
kids to see if they were ok and check if any of them had been called up for
reserve duty. Daniel, now married and
with a child of his own, had received his emergency mobilization orders and was
on the way to his base to get his equipment. My daughter was in Toronto with
her husband, Noam, and son visiting her husband’s family. He too had gotten his
emergency mobilization orders and immediately got the last flight back to
Israel.
That’s how it is here.
All of Israel’s wars are fought on home turf and for our survival. Huge numbers of reservists, even many who no
longer live here anymore come home to defend their families, friends, and
country. Now I have a son and a son-in-law somewhere outside Gaza preparing to
go to war. I worry and pray that they
come home to their families unharmed.
So how am I handling it? Like the rest of the country, I am
in a state of deep shock sorrow and horrified by what happened on
Saturday. This is, by far, worse than
anything that has ever happened in Israel’s short history, over a thousand
people were murdered, most of them civilians-men, women children, and seniors. (1,000
murdered Israelis are equivalent, proportionally to about 47,000 Americans
dying in a terrorist attack) Dozens and dozens of people of all ages were kidnapped.
I am also outraged. How can such cruelty and evil be possible? This has to
end! Everyone here is ready to fight.
I am also dreading the funerals to come. Virtually all of my
friend’s kids have been called up-360,000 young men have been mobilized. This is not going to end quickly or easily. I
went to my first funeral on Sunday night.
Yoni Steinberg, someone I have known since he was 9. He was a colonel in
the IDF, 42 years old, and the father of 6 children who now have no father.
There is nothing else on the TV and radio but the war and it’s almost impossible to escape it, especially since, living in such a tiny country, we are all on the front lines. I am listening to the news and the air raid siren goes off. I run down the hall to the bomb shelter in my building. I come back to my apartment 15 minutes later and try to work. It’s hard to think of anything else, but life goes on. I am sad, worried, stressed, and angry but I am not depressed. I know my Jewish history and have been here long enough to know that not only will we survive and outlast our enemies, as we always have, but with God’s help we will also thrive.
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