News flash: We are at war with Iran. After two Iranian missile attacks on Israel and their support of terrorist groups who openly attack Israel, Israel’s preemptive strike has certainly declared open war. Iran isn’t Hamas, Hezbollah, or the Houthis—they sponsor them! Attacking a sovereign country is always more challenging. But without a doubt, we have experienced amazing miracles—miracles through natural means that are not at all natural! Everything is falling into place in miraculous ways. There have also been tragedies. This war brings surprises and great inconveniences.
As I have the great z’chus to live in Eretz Yisrael, a little southwest of Yerushalayim, I can share some firsthand accounts of the recent, rapidly changing situation.
Thursday night, we were woken at 3 a.m. by an incoming missile siren. We thought, “Must be another missile from Yemen.” But those who read the text message saw that it was a preemptive siren to warn Israelis of the beginning of the attack on Iran. In case Iran responded immediately, people would already be awake, cranky, and better prepared to go to a shelter.
On Friday, there were no buses, no school (ahhhh!—at least it’s a short day anyway), and instructions to stay near bomb shelters. We heard of likely major Iranian strikes, but nothing happened.
We received calls from the Homefront Command and from our local Chareidi mayor with emergency phone numbers that would sound alerts for 1) advance warning, 2) go to shelter, and 3) all clear. We loaded them to our phones among all our other Shabbos preparations.
We were scheduled to eat the Shabbos day seudah with friends who live a short walk away. Should we change plans? We decided to keep them as is, with some extra food in the fridge as backup.
Friday night came. The shuls were open. In the event of an attack, our plan was to go to the building’s stairwell. During Minchah, we heard a siren—we assumed it was from Yemen, so we stayed put and heard no booms.
Back at home, just as we were about to make kiddush, the siren went off. We made a fast kiddush (with lots of kavanah) and then heard some distant booms. We tried to keep calm. Then our upstairs neighbor came knocking, begging to be let in. He suffers trauma from his army service in the 1980s and said our home felt calming. He stayed the evening, shared some beautiful Torah thoughts, and declined food. We heard another siren and more booms before things quieted down. He eventually left, and we finished our seudah and put the kids to bed.
Around 1 a.m., another siren. The neighbor returned, joined by a single fellow who lives alone. More loud booms. Eventually, all was quiet, and everyone returned to bed.
Shabbos day was quiet for us. We heard alerts elsewhere but nothing local. A quiet but anxious Shabbos.
On Motzaei Shabbos, we heard the sad news from Tel Aviv: hits and casualties. We then got alerts of a major bombardment on the way. Neighbors came back, and we all waited... and baruch Hashem, nothing happened by us.
At around 3 a.m. Sunday morning, powerful booms woke us—but no sirens. These reached Rechovot and Bat Yam, with tragic results.
Sunday began with no school, all state tests postponed, no buses, and everything in limbo. The Roshei Yeshivah directed yeshivos with shelters to open—Torah must continue to protect Klal Yisrael. Flights were canceled. The airport closed, no arrivals or departures. Someone close to me had a wife stuck in the U.S. while he’s home with the rest of the family amid all the unknowns.
What are we supposed to feel and think during these times?
Parshas Shelach offers a powerful lesson. The 40 years in the desert came as a shock. Moshe told Klal Yisrael they’d be entering Eretz Yisrael soon. Then came the chet ha’meraglim, and the plan changed: 40 years in the desert, and that generation would not enter the land. A huge disappointment.
But was it really a change of plans? Everything that happens is preplanned by Hashem. Sometimes we can look back and see the perfection in hindsight. Other times, it’s harder. How free will and Hashem’s plan fit together is something we may never fully understand.
Rav Avigdor Miller zt”l teaches that the 40 years in the desert were part of the original plan. They were years of growth, preparing Klal Yisrael to conquer and settle the land, to serve Hashem and accept the Torah fully. Separation from the nations, complete reliance on Hashem—this shaped the nation. Why else would they build a portable Mishkan if they were about to enter the land? The permanent one came only much later. It was always the plan.
So too with today. Everything is in Hashem’s master plan—and we are all part of it. May we respond with emunah and bitachon. May we be zocheh to greet Moshiach very soon!
