Is This How a War Begins?
A Letter from Rabbi Perkins
16 July 2006

Dear Friends,

It’s hard to believe how much difference one week can make! I have been in Jerusalem with my family since the beginning of July as a participant in the Hartman Institute’s Rabbinic Leadership Program. For the first week and a half of my stay, the situation was fairly calm, but then the situation changed rapidly. Let me give you a concrete example to illustrate what I mean.

A few hours after going to sleep on Friday evening, I woke up in the middle of the night. I couldn’t figure out why. After all, it was quiet. Sure, there were a few cats fighting in the neighborhood, but that happens every night. There were no cars on the streets. It seemed like a typical, peaceful Shabbat in Jerusalem. Why had I woken up? But then I heard it: planes. Odd, I thought. It’s Friday night: Shabbat. True, some planes do take off and land at Ben Gurion airport even on Shabbat, but Jerusalem is pretty far from the airport. And there are no flight plans that take planes over Jerusalem. At least not civilian flight plans. And then it hit me ….

How did this come to be? Why and how, in less than a week, did Israel’s air force come to fly through the night through the skies above Jerusalem?

In retrospect, one could say that it began about a week prior to my arrival. Hamas fighters had tunneled under the border between Gaza and Israel and had overtaken an Israeli outpost on Israeli soil, killing several soldiers and kidnapping one. This was appalling to most Israelis. After withdrawing completely from Gaza last summer, Israelis expected—or hoped for—calm on the border. This attack felt to Israelis as though the true colors of their Palestinian neighbors were being revealed, and they hit back strongly. In a night-time retaliatory raid to kill the head of Hamas’ military wing (and his cohorts), an Israeli missile failed to detonate. That gave the Hamas military leaders time to escape—but not the civilians living in the home, who were killed by a second missile. A third missile hit the getaway car, but only lightly wounded the Hamas leaders.

While folks were still mulling over this crisis, the unthinkable happened a second time: Hezbollah infiltrated the northern border and captured two Israeli soldiers. In missions to retrieve them, over a half dozen Israeli soldiers were killed. That may not sound like a lot. After all, we’re used to hearing of terrible losses of American soldiers in Iraq. But in this very small country, every soldier’s life is precious and these losses are taken very seriously and very personally. Although this audacious attack had been carried out by Hezbollah, which most likely acted independently, Israel held Lebanon responsible, and Israel’s first response was to bomb the Beirut International Airport. In response, Hezbollah began firing katyusha rockets across the northern border, killing several and wounding many. At first, only the northernmost villages and towns were hit, but then the city of Tsfat was hit, and then Tiberias. When that happened, the level of alarm shot up; after all, attacks from Lebanon had never before hit that far south.

Things have only gotten worse. Israeli jets have attacked bridges and roads and power stations throughout Lebanon, and Hezbollah has rained hundreds of katyushas down upon northern Israel. An Iranian-made missile hit a sophisticated Israeli ship in the Mediterranean, killing four Israeli sailors, and Iranian-made missiles have hit Haifa, killing eight and wounding scores more. Over a million Israelis living in the north have been ordered into bomb shelters and the entire northern portion of the country is under martial law.

A question I was asking only three days ago was, “Is this war?” Now no one is asking that question. Reservists are being called up. All public events north of Tel Aviv have been cancelled. Israel is clearly at war. According to the press, the army has been empowered to destroy Hezbollah, and the nation is preparing for the resulting inevitable casualties and inevitable destabilization.

Just last week, I was making plans to travel to Haifa to visit our adopted families. Now, trips to the north are out of the question. Just last week, folks were talking about when and how the next stage of disengagement would take place. That is now completely off of everyone’s minds. Instead, there is serious concern for the heartland of Israel—even though, here in Jerusalem, there is a surreal calm.

For war, as everyone knows, is unpredictable. Israel’s army is very skilled, but it is comprised of fallible human beings, and they will undoubtedly make mistakes. Israel’s enemies are strong: should they unite, they could deal a devastating blow to the country. Up until now, Israel’s only military foes in the current conflict have been Hamas and Hezbollah. What will happen, God forbid, should Syria or Iran become involved?

This is an unfortunate time of the Jewish year for this to be taking place. Last Thursday was the 17th of Tammuz, a fast day in the Jewish tradition. It commemorates, among other things, the breaching of the walls of Jerusalem before the city fell on Tisha B’Av in 586 BCE. It ushers in the so-called “drei vochen”—the “three weeks,”—a period of thoughtful contemplation, characterized by a sense of sadness.

I hope that we don’t take this association too far, for Israel is not only a wonderful country, but it is very, very strong. And yet, it is heartbreaking to contemplate what is happening here. I’m sure I’m not alone among readers of this letter in the love I feel toward this land and this nation. What pain, what suffering is taking place! How sad it is that, just as Israel was recovering from the devastating assaults and challenges of the intifada, this military confrontation should have been forced upon it.

I hope and pray that Israel will use its military might—as it has thus far—with courage and wisdom and moral sensitivity, and I hope it will defeat its foes. I hope that Israel’s neighbors will come to see that this country can be a blessing not only for its citizens, not only for Jews worldwide, but for its neighbors as well. That goal, after all, is enshrined in Israel’s Declaration of Independence. And I hope and pray that, one day, Israel’s neighbors will come to give Israel the respect it deserves, and come to share in its success.

Finally, I hope that we North American Jews who live outside of the Land will never abandon Israel, and that we will continue to provide it with our full moral, emotional and financial support.

I would like to close with the familiar and beautiful words of Psalm 121, words which many Jews world-wide are reciting daily during this crisis, in solidarity with our Israeli brothers and sisters:

I lift up my eyes to the hills:
From where will come my help?
My help is from the Lord, the maker of heaven and earth.
May He not let you stumble!
May your Guardian not sleep!
Indeed, the Guardian of Israel neither slumbers nor sleeps.
The Lord is your Guardian.
The Lord is your Shelter,
He is at your side.
The sun will not smite you by day,
nor the moon by night.
May the Lord guard you from all harm.
May the Lord guard your soul.
May the Lord guard your going out and your coming in,
Hence forth and forever.
Amen.

Shalom u’vrachah mirushalayim,