I the Israeli Shaliach felt that in order to feel more connected to Israel in times of war; one must create a personal connection. It’s not enough to know what’s going on, I want you to feel it. So, in this news letter there are no numbers, no up-dates or facts. I open a small window for you to hear the people behind the headlines. I bring you their stories, thoughts, and feelings in the hope that they will touch our hearts and bring us closer to theirs.
HHAI prays for the safety of our brothers and soldiers in Israel and hope to see them all return home safely.
This 22-year-old soldier had died so we can live in the Jewish homeland safe from the terror attacks of our enemies.
At last night's funeral of Staff Sergeant Dvir Emmanueloff, the first Israeli soldier to fall in the Gaza War, I got to meet the face behind the name. Dvir did not love fighting; he loved people. And he loved the Jews of southern Israel. He had attended yeshiva high school in the southern town of Netivot, now under attack by long-range missiles from Gaza. Dvir wanted to protect those people.
Through the eulogies at his funeral, I was introduced to Dvir. A rabbi who had been his high school teacher spoke. He told how this past summer on Tisha B'Av Dvir's unit was scheduled for arduous training exercises. Dvir could not reach his rabbi to ask if he was exempt from fasting, so he fasted. Running with heavy equipment on his back throughout the hot summer day, his friends implored him to drink, but Dvir persisted in his fast until a military rabbi ordered him to drink.
Dvir's older sister Hadas tried to speak through her tears. She described her brother, who was helpful, fun, encouraging, and loving. Dvir had been a counselor of a religious youth group. Even after he entered the army, Dvir would call every one of his former charges on their birthdays to wish them well. He also sent each of them New Year's cards before Rosh Hashana.
Every single person who spoke mentioned Dvir's ever-present smile.
As the eulogies continued, the tragedy of Dvir's death deepened. The family's rabbi recounted how exactly two years and ten months ago, he sat by the hospital bed of Dvir's father and watched the machines monitoring his vital signs until they went silent. What? I thought. His mother buried her husband less than three years ago, and now she's burying her son?
Another speaker extended condolences to Dvir's mother and three sisters. What? I thought. He's an only son? His widowed mother is burying her only son? What was this boy doing risking his life in the terror-nest of Gaza?
Dvir's lifelong friend answered my anguished question. He told how both he and Dvir had lost their fathers shortly before entering the army. Dvir, now the man of the house, wrestled with the question of whether he should continue to pursue his dream to join a combat unit. Amichai had lost not only his father, but also his older brother, who was killed in action in Lebanon. Dvir went and spoke to Amichai's mother, keenly aware that serving in a combat unit could turn his own mother into a similar victim of double tragedy. In the end, as Amichai explained, "Dvir thought it was important to defend the country and the people in it."
“His mother buried her husband less than three years ago, and now she is burying her son” Dvir was not fighting with his infantry unit in Gaza because he was heedless of the danger. He was fighting in spite of the danger. He was risking his life because he believed in something more valuable than his life: defending the lives of other Jews.
Two of the eulogies mentioned that Saturday night, hours before he died, Dvir recited the blessing on the moon. This monthly blessing is recited on the Saturday night after the moon, having disappeared into the darkness, again waxes into a clearly visible crescent of light. Our tradition compares the Jewish People to the moon; our fortunes wax and wane throughout history.
But all it takes for a Jew to make a blessing is seeing a sliver of light. The life of Dvir Emmanueloff and the thousands like him who are today risking their lives in Gaza for the sake of the Jewish nation are that sliver of light.
May they be blessed.
HHAI prays for the safety of our brothers and soldiers in Israel and hope to see them all return home safely.
This 22-year-old soldier had died so we can live in the Jewish homeland safe from the terror attacks of our enemies.
At last night's funeral of Staff Sergeant Dvir Emmanueloff, the first Israeli soldier to fall in the Gaza War, I got to meet the face behind the name. Dvir did not love fighting; he loved people. And he loved the Jews of southern Israel. He had attended yeshiva high school in the southern town of Netivot, now under attack by long-range missiles from Gaza. Dvir wanted to protect those people.
Through the eulogies at his funeral, I was introduced to Dvir. A rabbi who had been his high school teacher spoke. He told how this past summer on Tisha B'Av Dvir's unit was scheduled for arduous training exercises. Dvir could not reach his rabbi to ask if he was exempt from fasting, so he fasted. Running with heavy equipment on his back throughout the hot summer day, his friends implored him to drink, but Dvir persisted in his fast until a military rabbi ordered him to drink.
Dvir's older sister Hadas tried to speak through her tears. She described her brother, who was helpful, fun, encouraging, and loving. Dvir had been a counselor of a religious youth group. Even after he entered the army, Dvir would call every one of his former charges on their birthdays to wish them well. He also sent each of them New Year's cards before Rosh Hashana.
Every single person who spoke mentioned Dvir's ever-present smile.
As the eulogies continued, the tragedy of Dvir's death deepened. The family's rabbi recounted how exactly two years and ten months ago, he sat by the hospital bed of Dvir's father and watched the machines monitoring his vital signs until they went silent. What? I thought. His mother buried her husband less than three years ago, and now she's burying her son?
Another speaker extended condolences to Dvir's mother and three sisters. What? I thought. He's an only son? His widowed mother is burying her only son? What was this boy doing risking his life in the terror-nest of Gaza?
Dvir's lifelong friend answered my anguished question. He told how both he and Dvir had lost their fathers shortly before entering the army. Dvir, now the man of the house, wrestled with the question of whether he should continue to pursue his dream to join a combat unit. Amichai had lost not only his father, but also his older brother, who was killed in action in Lebanon. Dvir went and spoke to Amichai's mother, keenly aware that serving in a combat unit could turn his own mother into a similar victim of double tragedy. In the end, as Amichai explained, "Dvir thought it was important to defend the country and the people in it."
“His mother buried her husband less than three years ago, and now she is burying her son” Dvir was not fighting with his infantry unit in Gaza because he was heedless of the danger. He was fighting in spite of the danger. He was risking his life because he believed in something more valuable than his life: defending the lives of other Jews.
Two of the eulogies mentioned that Saturday night, hours before he died, Dvir recited the blessing on the moon. This monthly blessing is recited on the Saturday night after the moon, having disappeared into the darkness, again waxes into a clearly visible crescent of light. Our tradition compares the Jewish People to the moon; our fortunes wax and wane throughout history.
But all it takes for a Jew to make a blessing is seeing a sliver of light. The life of Dvir Emmanueloff and the thousands like him who are today risking their lives in Gaza for the sake of the Jewish nation are that sliver of light.
May they be blessed.
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