delray beach orthodox rabbi

                                                                                           
                                                                                                  B"H

  The final few days - why we are here
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As the trip winds down, I find myself struggling to put pen to paper—or more accurately, thumb to screen. The past few days have been an emotional roller coaster, filled with deep sadness and soaring inspiration. Moving from Yom HaZikaron to Yom Ha’atzmaut is never easy—shifting from grief to celebration is jarring. But what’s proving even harder is the next transition: returning to the everyday. How do you go from singing Hatikvah with tears in your eyes to answering emails about synagogue plumbing issues?

Shabbat gave us a much-needed pause—a spiritual intermission to breathe, reflect, and recalibrate. On Friday evening, we welcomed Shabbat at the Kotel. It was packed beyond anything I’ve seen before, teeming with young people. There was an almost surreal energy—students from Yeshivat HaKotel danced their way from the Old City rooftops to the plaza below, singing with abandon. Each group led their own unique service, and while the overlapping voices might sound like chaos to some, to the sensitive soul it was a heavenly harmony—each voice rising toward the heavens in its own tune, yet somehow part of the same sacred symphony.

We walked back through the Shuk—though I must report that Miriam wasn’t there—and while the path was quiet, it was clearly Shabbat: shops shuttered, streets still. We then had the misfortune of enduring a lavish Shabbat dinner. The food was sublime, but it was the company that truly nourished us. We had the privilege of hosting reservists—men and women who had left behind their homes, families, and comforts to protect this land. They joined us for every meal, and we rotated seats so that everyone could hear their stories firsthand. Each one carried the weight of sacrifice and the light of resilience. Their words weren’t just moving—they were transformative. It was a Shabbat that none of us will soon forget.

Sunday took us north. We visited a base just two miles from the Lebanese border. There, we shared a BBQ with reservists who were already in their fourth or fifth tour since October 7th. I expected somber faces, tired eyes, maybe even resentment. But instead, I was greeted with smiles and sincere gratitude. These soldiers weren’t burdened by their duty—they were uplifted by it. They told me how proud they were to serve, and how glad they were to give the regular troops a break. Their sense of purpose was palpable. It reminded me of the verse: “Mi k’amcha Yisrael, goy echad ba’aretz”—Who is like Your people Israel, one united nation in the land?

As we return to our daily routines, may we carry with us the stories we heard, the people we met, and the spirit we felt. Let this not be a postcard we file away, but a chapter that reshapes the way we live, love, and lead. The power of Am Yisrael lies not just in our unity during war, but in our commitment to remain united in peace. Let’s take that calling seriously—because even when the trip ends, the journey must go on.

Shalom from Israel—until next time, may we be worthy of the land and the people who fight to protect it.

Rabbi Jack Engel