I am a different person than I was two weeks ago. The journey through the Holy Land with a delegation of five exceptional individuals profoundly touched me. We dedicated ourselves to delivering supplies, offering moral support to soldiers, attending funerals, visiting the wounded, and providing solace to the grieving. But beyond these acts of compassion lay an extraordinary feeling of a profound unity and purpose within my nation that moved me beyond words.
In witnessing the aftermath of the evils of October 7th, I caught a glimpse into a hidden, transcendental realm waiting to be fully embraced by our nation: a realm of moral clarity, brotherly love, solidarity, and dedication. Raw pain has stripped away veils of pretense and brought us closer to the core of our souls. A sublime sense of oneness has developed among us, along with a collective understanding that our adversaries epitomize evil. We, as a nation, stand chosen – whether we like it or not – to champion the noble cause of the good and to defend the land that was chosen as the battleground of righteousness.
Allow me to share a post I wrote on the third day of our mission, when we visited the Gaza border and were confronted with scenes of the greatest tragedy and heroism. The post, presented in its original format (which will be familiar to users of X, where I posted threads detailing the other days as well, here), aims to convey the intensity of that experience and its attendant emotions, and is followed by a line-by-line explication.
Israel Trip, day 3; Gaza envelope
1
On the way there – dread. Scavenging birds in the air. Soldiers and dog searching for last pieces of Adamites to return to the dust from whence they came.
Re'im, the killing fields.
Sacred brown earth? Cursed red soil?
El, full of mercy. Kaddish.
2
At 10:30, he arrived. At 12:00, he fought, for 13 hours, Man to so-called “man,” and his gun was red, and his friend was killed when he no longer had ammunition, the hero’s son in the war-room, safe and protected orphan.
El, full of mercy.
No orders, no chain, only extirpation.
3
Be’eri. Destroyed house. Bullet-riddled. Burnt.
Then, 3000 degrees. Are they dying now, constantly, forever?
Cup of ash, go before the Name. Be silent.
“No words,” says the ash to the Name.
“No answer,” says the Name to the ash.
Can ash hear?
Listen to the artillery boom.
4
Gaza Division.
Dead, dead, dead, taken, dead, taken, dead...
El, full of mercy, full of mercy.
The Name, too, attacked, His house bombed, quickly fix the bullet holes! the broken glass! the ripped cushions! so His people don't see His shame.
We do have a quorum for Minchah.
5
Col. L., special ops, a hero.
Knows that the Name went to the other side and led them by the hand! But now He is back on our side, and how!
Col. L., special ops, is at the very least a prophet of the lowest rank – maybe of the second-to-lowest rank as well?
6
Col. L. teaches: if you have a pulse, you don't stop; if you stop, you fall.
And if you haven't even started, start now, I, no prophet of lowest rank, humbly add to his humble words.
Return to Jerusalem. Is this Jerusalem?
/fin
1
Israel trip, day 3; Gaza envelope
The Gaza envelope (Hebrew: עוטף עזה, Otef Aza) is where the horrendous evils of October 7th were perpetrated by terrorists who infiltrated from Gaza. Under army escort, led by Colonel L., we embarked on a tour of the sites of the murders and atrocities.
On the way there – dread. Scavenging birds in the air. Soldiers and dog searching for last pieces of Adamites to return to the dust from whence they came.
As we drove down south, a sense of foreboding took hold: Could we tolerate coming face-to-face with the black countenance of evil?
I noticed scavenging birds circling ominously high in the sky, which we were later informed were a sign that body parts still remained in the wild.
As we approached the roads near Re’im, we saw a team of soldiers leading a dog in a search for last pieces of human beings.
Re'im, the killing fields.
We stood in the death-fields of Re’im, at the spot where the massacre took place. Car parts were strewn on the side of the road, parts of which were blackened by fire. The fields were empty but for ghosts.
Sacred brown earth? Cursed red soil?
I felt an urge to fall on my face and kiss the holy soil upon which so many souls had been killed for being Jews in Hashem’s land, but I didn’t know whether the soil is sacred with sacrifice or cursed with death.
El, full of mercy. Kaddish.
With tears in our eyes, we recited the prayers for the dead, who listened in silent presence.
2
At 10:30, he arrived. At 12:00, he fought, for 13 hours, Man to so-called "man," and his gun was red, and his friend was killed when he no longer had ammunition, the hero's son in the war-room, safe and protected orphan.
Colonel L. recounted his experience of the attacks. He rushed from his home, arriving at the attack site by 10:30 AM. Commencing engagement at noon, he valiantly battled the terrorists for 13 relentless hours, wielding a red-hot weapon against the inhuman assailants masquerading as men, devoid of the virtues that define humanity’s divinity.
Nehemias, a comrade of the colonel, safeguarded his 8-year-old son in the fortified war-room at the base before plunging into the conflict. Exhausting all his ammunition in an effort to repel the assailants, he fell victim to their onslaught when his resources dwindled.
El, full of mercy.
No orders, no chain, only extirpation.
There were no precise directives on engaging the terrorists, no established chain of command in place. Instead, each valiant warrior was tasked with eradicating whatever evil they would encounter.
3
Be’eri. Destroyed house. Bullet-riddled. Burnt.
We paid respects at the ruins of Be’eri. The houses were destroyed and desolate, some marked with bullet holes, others burnt.
Then, 3000 degrees. Are they dying now, constantly, forever?
The heat in some of the houses reached 3000°C when the terrorists detonated charges inside them, incinerating the inhabitants until all that was left of them was a cupful of ashes. This grim reality unfolded precisely where we stood, 7 weeks prior; at the time we stood there, all was hauntingly quiet. As I imagined the harrowing scenes, I pondered the enduring nature of such catastrophic events – do they fade into history or remain an indelible part of our present reality? Can we ever truly relinquish the weight of such horrific memories?
Cup of ash, go before the Name. Be silent.
I called upon the people who were reduced to a cupful of ashes to go before Hashem but to say nothing.
“No words,” says the ash to the Name.
The human being makes no claim on Hashem, for his suffering is beyond all words and reason.
“No answer,” says the Name to the ash.
Hashem makes no answer to us claimless beings – and that is His response.
Can ash hear?
I wonder if the once-human dead can still hear the silence of Hashem.
Listen to the artillery boom.
We observers, still alive, hear thunderous artillery blasts. We are reassured that it’s outgoing, not incoming. Good is attacking evil. We think we are safe.
4
Gaza Division.
From Be’eri, we proceeded to the army base near Gaza, now the hub of the war-machine, on October 7th, the scene of a massacre.
Dead, dead, dead, taken, dead, taken, dead... El, full of mercy, full of mercy.
Scores of soldiers were killed and taken from this base. Our calls on heavenly mercy increase in number, intensity and desperateness.
The Name, too, attacked, His house bombed, quickly fix the bullet holes! the broken glass! the ripped cushions! so His people don't see His shame.
We entered the beautiful and serene synagogue situated on the base. It had been bombed, like many synagogues in the area, during the hellish attack against the Jewish people, their land and their God. Recent restorations veiled the wounds – fresh plaster concealed bullet-pocked walls, new doors replaced shattered ones – effacing the cruel reminders of the aggression. The colonel emphasized the urgency of restoring the synagogue, emphasizing its vital role as a sanctuary for soldiers, whether devout or secular, whose spirits found solace within its walls. He stressed that their morale might falter if they would see Hashem’s sanctum in disarray.
We do have a quorum for Minchah.
After hearing of the desecration of the synagogue and Hashem Who dwells within it, we assemble a quorum to pray – just as we do on any typical day in any ordinary synagogue.
5
Col. L., special ops, a hero.
The long-serving colonel exudes bravery and calm, coupled with faith in God and the righteousness of his mission.
Knows that the Name went to the other side and led them by the hand! But now He is back on our side, and how!
Matter-of-factly, the colonel informs us that Hashem abandoned us on October 7th and led our enemies by the hand into our land, aiding them in their barbaric mission. He assures us that subsequently, Hashem has returned to our side and is with us once again, as He usually is. The colonel derived this firsthand knowledge from his involvement in the highly successful campaign in Gaza.
Col. L., special ops, is at the very least a prophet of the lowest rank – maybe of the second-to-lowest rank as well?
The least degree of prophecy, as outlined by Maimonides in “The Guide of the Perplexed” (2:45), involves an individual being stirred to perform a “great, righteous, and important action – such as the deliverance of a community of virtuous people from a community of wicked people.” The colonel undeniably fits this profile. I wonder whether his peculiar yet profound words might elevate him to Maimonides’ subsequent level of prophecy, wherein “an individual finds that a certain thing has descended upon him… and has made him speak; so that he talks in wise sayings… concerning governmental or divine matters.”
6
Col. L. teaches: if you have a pulse, you don't stop; if you stop, you fall.
On that intense day, we received from the colonel a second sublime teaching – to never stop fighting for what is right and true, for as long as we live.
And if you haven't even started, start now, I, no prophet of lowest rank, humbly add to his humble words.
I add a thought to the teaching I received. Some people haven’t even begun to fight for the redemption of our nation and the world. If you haven’t begun, start now!
Return to Jerusalem. Is this Jerusalem?
Upon my return to Jerusalem, I found myself contemplating its radiant beauty amid the pervasive existence of evil. Could Jerusalem truly be deemed a holy city while unholiness prevails?
Jerusalem will realize its destined holiness when we all begin fighting for its redemption – and never stop.
Your words take me there and leave me profoundly moved and in awe of the courage and heroism you describe