delray beach orthodox rabbi

                                                                                      B"H
                 
Serenity and Fear - The Complications of Being in Israel
 
For the past seven days I experienced complete serenity. I didn’t contact the office and the office was kind enough not to contact me. All my children and grandchildren were at the Shabbat table, and life and that moment will be forever cherished on my grandfather highlight reel. I hope it gets even better, but I’m not greedy.
 
Conversely, during our stay in Israel, I was frightened beyond any imagination. The day we arrived, and in close proximity to where we were staying, there were two separate terrorist attacks. Two people were murdered and another eighteen injured. I couldn’t help but look over my shoulder in fear and trepidation wondering where and when the next pigua (terrorist activity) would take place. We reevaluated what sites we would visit and consciously decided to refrain from visiting the “so called” hot spots.
 
While in Israel one is in a constant state of contradiction. I’m embarrassed that I allowed fear to dictate my movements, but I am protective of my family and refuse to put them at risk. Similarly, I’m proud when I hear politicians publicly declare that Israel will not fear terrorism, but I’m also aware that many Israelis live in perpetual fear. That fear is often a consequence of not too subtle provocations by politicians using their bully pulpits for political purposes. Personally, I’ve never (yet) gone up to the Temple Mount, but my heart beats with pride when I hear politicians state that Eretz Yisrael shelanu, that the entire land of Israel belongs to us and we will never be told where we may go in our land. However, contradicting the jubilation in my heart, my brain reinforces the fact that there will be a price to pay and sometimes that price is too costly and painful.
 
The fear we have as Americans is very different from the fear that Israelis live with on a daily basis. As someone who grew up in the United States in the years following the Second World War, I remember vividly walking by buildings with fallout shelters. In theory I knew what they were, but I never really thought there would be a need to use them. In school we were assured that if we sat under our desks it would protect us against the ravages of an atomic bomb descending on New York, but we didn’t sit in fear or trepidation. I’m sitting in a plane without a parachute, aware of what could potentially happen, but also realizing the risks are minimal. I’m even taking the giant leap of faith during my El Al flight; when the captain turned off the seat belt sign I decided to sit without my seat belt fastened. (And my children think I’m risk averse.) But living in Israel poses real and dangerous daily threats from terrorists who were taught since kindergarten that murdering an infidel will get them eternal life. Palestinians protest as a means of rebellion and are a serious threat to the safety of Israelis.
 
The strange thing is that I knew before I took my family that it would be far safer to go to Disney World, but I chose to visit Israel in spite of the risks. In computing our path through life we use a complicated analysis called “risk versus reward.” As a grandparent sharing with his grandchildren what is truly important for their future connection with the Jewish people, the reward of walking in the land of their ancestors outweighs the potential risk. When I stand at the Kotel (the western wailing wall surrounding the Temple Mount) with my grandson and explain the deep roots we as Jews have with our homeland, the risk of being there seems negligible. When we walked the streets of Jerusalem we were confronted with a plethora of police in black uniforms. The concern in their eyes was palpable but I felt calm and serene knowing that they had my back.
 
In this week’s Torah portion, Ya’akov is running away from his brother and arrives at the Temple Mount to rest for the evening. Interestingly, the Torah uses contradictory phrases and states that Ya’akov was fearful but he was also inspired. It states: mah norah hamakom hazeh ein zeh ki im bet Elokim v’zeh shaar hashamayim - how awesome is this place Jerusalem, this must be the house of God and a gateway to heaven. Exactly what our ancestors experienced four thousand years ago, we are experiencing today. Yes, I was frightened, but it was awesome to visit God’s gift to the Jewish people with my grandchildren.
 
Honestly, if the chance arose for me to take my family to Israel again I wouldn’t hesitate for a second. However, life is too short to sit in a non-reclining seat for another thirteen hours. So I conclude by sending a short but important message to my loving children who are charged with booking my flights to Israel.  Please note that the Torah states: vayishkav bamakom that Ya’akov was able to spread out and lie flat. Would it be too much to ask that on my next trip I am able to emulate my forefather?
 
Shabbat shalom,
 
Rabbi Jack Engel