By Ilanit Zakowski
LOS ANGELES — I turn on my phone reluctantly after Shabbos. There’s always that little bit of hesitation to tune into what happened in the world after the tranquility and escape from reality that Shabbat brings. I have become much more conscious of how scary the news can be since October 7th. Even with no phones that Simchat Torah, we still managed to hear the horrific events trickling in as the day unfolded. We couldn’t imagine that the ‘real’ news on our phones could possibly be that bad. We were mistaken. Those images and stories we were exposed to that night after Chag still continue to haunt me everytime I look at my screen. Our phones are such powerful tools- they are our main news sources but sometimes they provide more information than we should know.
It was all so horrific, and I think back to the weeks following October 7th. I remember that fear within me each time I turned on my phone right after Shabbat (and often during the week as well). What new information will the news bring? Has Israel entered Gaza yet? Have they found any of the hostages? And our precious chayalim (soldiers). Please tell me they are all safe, that there were no casualties over Shabbat.
Growing up, I have memories of my father holding the New York Times, scanning and looking for headlines about Israel, as soon as he entered the house with the morning paper. He always said “no news about Israel is good news.” As a child he explained to me that Israel needs to be at the forefront of our minds, and it always was. World news was irrelevant, as long as Israel was okay and everyone there was safe. American politics were irrelevant, as long as there was a majority of strong support for Israel. My grandmother used to always say “we’re such a small people, yet we’re always on the front page of the New York Times.” As I grew older, I began to understand exactly what she meant.
My Bubbie and Zaidie, Holocaust survivors, would exclaim to me “bring peace to Israel” upon my departure on any visit to Israel. They’d always tell me that as children in Europe, they’d dream of Palestine and never could have imagined how easy it would be one day to get on a plane and vacation to the Jewish State. But I never took it for granted. Israel was the most special place- a place we spent our summers, made life-long friends and immersed ourselves in the Israeli culture and language, which became so normal and natural to me. I already knew I was going to live there one day, there was no question. And thank Gd I did- for ten beautiful years. Those childhood trips had a life-long effect on me, I will forever cherish, whether living in LA, NY or Israel.
And this past Saturday night, before turning on my phone, I thought back to the events that transpired these past two weeks. My students and I wrote condolence letters to the bereaved families of Alex, Almog, Carmel, Eden, Ori and Hersh, the six hostages brutally killed by Hamas after enduring 11 months of torture. My plan was to seal and send out the letters a few days after they were written. But since they were written, the list only grew. Last Sunday, there was an attack on three men in their fifties. Yochanan Shohori, Yuri Birnbaum, and Adrian Marcelo Podmessor were all killed by a terrorist at the Israel- Jordan border. One of these men had a son who survived Nova. Now this survivor has lost his father, another victim of ruthless terror.
Then, later in the week, another terrible terrorist attack took place, at Givat Assaf, a hilltop community named for Assaf Hershkovitz, 31, who had been gunned down by terrorists during the second intifada in 2002. I remember when this happened and even visiting this community, amazed at the heroic young couples claiming that piece of land. Now, Geri Gideon Hanghal, 24, from Nof Hagalil, an Israeli- Indian Chayal, another precious soul, was taken in a ramming attack at that same spot once again. I couldn’t stop wondering: How could we just write letters to six when there were so many more? How could we ignore the rest of them and just move on? We must know their names, their storie; each one of them was an entire universe.
I pondered over that question for a few days. Should we find the address of each of these three families now sitting Shiva? Spend more class time writing letters? Unfortunately, time and logistics did not allow us to do that. But that doesn’t mean these men died in vain. We acknowledge them and their Mesirut Nefesh (self-sacrifice) to live in and protect the Jewish state. They are part of our story, the story of the survival of the Jewish People. They lost their lives knowing we will carry on their torch. Their names have been added to the list of heroes of our people, never to be forgotten.
And so, despite the difficult news that the past few weeks have brought us, when Shabbat ends, let’s just wait a few more minutes before we turn on our phones. Let us take a bit more time to enjoy the quiet and peacefulness the last 25 hours have brought us. Let us understand what my grandparents meant when they said they cried in the shtetl upon Shabbat’s departure. However, let our crying be because of the sanctity of the gift of Shabbat, and most of all, out of gratitude that Am Yisrael were safe and protected over Shabbat. Let the crying be in praise for continued miracles for Jews, all over the world. Let the coming week bring news, and this time let it only be good news.
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Ilanit Zakowski is a Jewish educator, teaching and touching the lives of children of various ages in the greater LA area. She is also an English as a second language teacher and taught English to Israeli children during the decade she lived in Israel.