12 Dec HAMAS UNDERESTIMATED US AND SO DID WE

In 1977, after serving
in the opposition for
many years, Menachem
Begin won the election
that would make him
Prime Minister. Soon
after, Begin was in the
process of assembling a
governing coalition when seven members of
the Haredi party burst into his office, lashing
out over something that upset them. Hart
Hasten, a close friend and advisor of Begin
recalled how Begin sat silently as they
expressed their anger and agitation. When they
had finished, Begin paused and then calmly
responded in Yiddish: Rabbosai, hobn ihr shoin
gedavent minha, Gentlemen, have you already
davened Mincha? Stunned by the response,
they replied that in fact, they had not yet
davened. So, Begin recruited Hasten, his chief
of staff Yehiel Kadishai, and together with
himself and the seven men of the Haredi party,
they proceeded as a minyan to daven Mincha.
By the time they were done, tempers had
subsided, and the rage had dissolved. Begin had
disarmed his political adversaries by pivoting
to common ground, a shared reverence for
Torah and Yiddishkeit and a united commitment
to surrender in faith to Hashem by davening the
afternoon prayer. Against the backdrop of a
holy Mincha prayed with the harmony produced
from disparate voices, Begin resumed
negotiations, ultimately succeeding in building
a coalition.
I was reminded of this story this week as
Rabbi Moskowitz, Rabbi Broide, and I traveled
back to Israel for three days of hugs, chizuk,
love, comfort, support and partnership that
culminated in a Maariv minyan that reminded
me of Begin’s Mincha.
Our trip took us to army bases in the North
and South in which our community sponsored
meals and music and we distributed handwritten
letters to the precious and heroic members of
the IDF. We encountered soldiers who had not
been home in weeks or now months and who
were sleeping on the cold floor. We met a
51-year-old soldier whose service concluded
eleven years ago but would not be stopped from
continuing to voluntarily serve and who today
is the driver of his group’s hummer throughout
Gaza. We sang and danced with units that were
literally on their way back into Gaza to fight,
including with a dear friend whose commander
fell in battle that very night after our dinner
together. Rather than exhaustion, bitterness or
resentment, we encountered positivity, resolve,
tenacity, faith, optimism, hope, and a sense of
purpose and mission that simply defy words.
We visited with injured soldiers in Tel
Ha’Shomer hospital, one of whom was told he
would be there for a minimum of a full year and
another with metal rods coming out of one leg,
his arm in a sling, and a patch over his eye.
They, and all the others we visited, were not
down or depressed, despondent or dejected.
They each had a separate and unique story to
tell, but they all ended with a message of hope,

positivity and unwavering faith that we will
prevail.
We spent significant time with a father of a
21-year-old fallen soldier, killed by a Hamas
ambush. He shared his and his family’s
devastating sense of pain, loss, and grief but his
overall message was one of duty, mission and
purpose.
We met with a community from the South that
has been displaced since October 7th and who
don’t know when it will be safe to return to
their homes. In more than half of these families,
the husband has been called up to serve and the
wife is left living in a cramped hotel room with
her children going to makeshift school and
living without almost all of their things. Instead
of giving up or giving in, rather than expressing
a desire or plan to move or relocate when this is
over, they have pledged and promised to go
home, to expand their community, and forge a
deeper connection to the area in which they
live.
We toured Be’eri, one of the communities hit
hardest on that “Black Sabbath” as it was
referred to us. Out of 1,200 residents, 90 were
brutally murdered, 30 were taken hostage and
close to 90 soldiers lost their lives liberating the
survivors from the more than 500 terrorists who
infiltrated on that dark day. The now-empty
community is not open to the public but we
were honored to be able to pay witness to the
atrocities that took place there and now bear the
awesome responsibility to tell the stories of
what happened that day. We saw burnt and
destroyed homes, bloody sheets and bloody
stains on the ground. We observed cars, homes,
a school and a clinic riddled with bullet holes.
We picked up bullets that are still all over the
ground, a testament to the fierce battles that
took place in that spot that so many died al
Kiddush Hashem. We walked by a Sukkah that
still stands despite Chanukah having begun
because there is no person, no time, and no will
to take it down.
And yet, despite all that we saw and heard had
happened there, Naor and Yarden, the two men
who took us around and who each lost loved
ones that day, spoke with determination and
resolve and offered statements that we are not
going anywhere, we will bounce back and
build, we are prepared to fight for existence,
our homes and our Homeland.
We stopped at the Shuva junction where three
brothers started out a help center by putting
together several extension cords and setting up
one table to provide hot food for soldiers.
Today there are large tents, endless buffets of
food, stations of clothing, laundry and more, all
coordinated by extraordinary volunteers who
feed more than 3,000 soldiers a week. We met
the amazing women of Gush Etzion who rotate
baking special treats and stocking the pinah
chama, clubhouse for soldiers who patrol their
neighborhood. We went back to Maslul to our
friend Yaakov, the Makolet owner who
essentially hasn’t seen his wife since October
7th because he feeds, cares for, and takes care

of the needs of over 700 soldiers a day who
come for respite between their battles in Gaza.
We met Moshe who voluntarily converted the
garage behind his home on the Gaza border into
a space for 40 soldiers to rest, sleep, and eat.
We met and were briefed by Brigadier General
(ret.) Amir Avivi who shared tremendous
insights into what happened, what is happening,
and what he believes will happen next. He
ended by telling us that while Hamas dealt us a
devastating blow that horrible day, they made a
gross and fatal miscalculation. They saw the
vociferous debates over judicial reform, the
political rancor and deep divide between the
left and right, religious and secular, and they
predicted that Israel would react to an attack by
blaming one another, splintering, and falling
apart. They didn’t understand and could never
predict or even comprehend the level of unity
we would experience, how together we truly
are, how much more we have in common than
could ever divide us.
Hamas were not the only ones who grossly
miscalculated. The Jewish people went to
sleep on October 6th bitterly divided, but after
the events of October 7th, woke up on October
8th a new people, a united people, an am echad
k’ish echad b’lev echad, one nation, one people
with one heart.
They didn’t know what we are capable of,
what we can accomplish when we come
together, who we are at our core when all is on
the line. Said the General, the secular are
having a spiritual awakening and the Haredim
are coordinating unprecedented networks of
national service. The world and Hamas
thought that the Jewish people were fractured
and this would be the ultimate blow that would
divide us. They, and to a certain extent we,
never imagined how united, driven and
unstoppable we could become.
And that brings me to our special Maariv at
the end of our trip. We were at Knesset offices
for meetings when suddenly someone realized
the time for Maariv had come and asked if we
would join a minyan. As we began Borchu, I
looked around the conference table. Sitting to
my immediate left, with a long beard, curly
payos and black velvet yarmulka was United
Torah Judaism MK, Yisrael Eichler, essentially
the head of the Haredi party. Sitting to my right
was MK Michael Biton of National Unity
Party, who had been sitting in the room and
borrowed a kippa from someone so he could
help us make the minyan. Across from me,
wearing his kippa serugah sat Finance Minister
Betzalel Smotrich. Not individuals in a
borrowed kippa, kippa seruga, and black kippa,
disagreeing on important ideology and policies,
but a united coalition in that moment in prayer,
faith and love of our people.
As we davened, I thought about the miracle of
Chanuka and the rededication of our holy Beis
HaMikdash after defeating an evil enemy. In
that moment, I was deeply moved by the fact
that we are back in Yerushalayim, davening
Maariv in the modern center of power, doing so

with sovereignty, self-determination, and self-
defense. After 2,000 years of running from

pogroms, persecution, and attempted
exterminations, we have returned to our
homeland with the chance to be active
participants in shaping our destiny.
Our parsha describes that Yosef’s brothers
hated him to the point that v’lo yachlu dabro
l’shalom.” The Ibn Ezra explains, “v’lo yachlu
dabro l’shalom – afilu l’shalom.” It isn’t that
they just couldn’t talk about the issues they
disagreed about. It isn’t just that they didn’t
want to be close, loving brothers. It isn’t just
that they couldn’t debate respectfully. “Afilu
l’shalom” – they couldn’t even give each other
a shalom aleichem. The hatred and intolerance
had grown so deep that they couldn’t stand to
even extend greetings to one another or to be in
a room together.
Rav Yehonasan Eibshitz in his Tiferes Yonasan
has an additional insight. When we disagree
with people, we withdraw from them and stop
speaking to them. We see them as “the other,”
different than us and apart from us. As our
communication breaks down, the dividers rise
up, stronger and stronger and we can’t find a
way to break through them.
The antidote and answer is in our hands and
we remind ourselves of it three times a day
when we pray. Our practice of taking three
steps backward at the conclusion of the Amidah
comes from a Gemara in Yoma (Daf 53) which
states, “Hamispaleil tzarich she’yafsiah
shelosha pesios l’achorav v’achar kach yitein
shalom. The one who prays must take three
steps back and only then pray for peace.” R’
Menachem BenZion Zaks (in his commentary
on Pirkei Avos) explains that we cannot pray
for, nor achieve, peace if we are not willing to
step back a little and make room for others and
their opinions, their tastes and personalities.
After stepping back, we ask “oseh shalom
bimromav, God, please bring peace,” and we
then turn to the right and to the left. Explains R’
Zaks, achieving peace and harmony means
bending towards those on the right of us and
those on the left of us, acknowledging them,
engaging them, and making space for them.
That is a prerequisite to the shalom, the peace
we crave.
In our few days meeting, touring and
volunteering, we witnessed the impact of the
worst of humanity and we watched the best of
humanity. The atrocity that took place was
unimaginable, but so is the will and faith of our
people. If we want shalom, peace, we must be
capable of speaking l’shalom, not just tolerating
a fellow Jew but learning to love them and
maybe even daven Mincha or Maariv together
too.