The date is September 11 as I sit and write my thoughts. I vividly remember when my father ran to my room 23 years ago. With shock in his eyes and voice, he called me to the living room to watch what was being unveiled on TV. It was unlike my father to call me to watch TV or to interrupt my phone call. Reluctantly (I was a teen), I obeyed.
Moments later, I watched from Israel as the second of two planes crashed into the World Trade Center in Lower Manhattan, New York City, killing nearly 3,000 people and marking a global history-changing event. Everyone stopped right there and then. Almost everyone can tell exactly what they did, where they were, and how the color drained from their faces at the sight of people jumping from the buildings to their death.
Revisiting the Tragedy
Early morning on October 7, 2023, history repeated itself for me and millions of other Israelis. We didn’t have planes crashing into buildings. We had thousands of murderous, bloodthirsty, death worshipers who breached our southern border and murdered more than 1,200 innocent people. It didn’t matter if the victims were young or old. If they weren’t Jews, they were asked where the Jews were or where they might be hiding. If those caught showed courage and integrity by remaining silent or denying that they knew, they were shot dead. It wasn’t only Jews that died that day, but the Jews were the terrorists’ targets.
Growing up listening to Grandpa Zvi’s stories, I would’ve never imagined I’d hear similar ones happening to my people in my lifetime just an hour’s drive away.
As the granddaughter of a Holocaust survivor, I couldn’t believe what was unveiled before my eyes. Growing up listening to Grandpa Zvi’s stories, I would’ve never imagined I’d hear similar ones happening to my people in my lifetime just an hour’s drive away. I identify with the agony King David described:
I am poured out like water, and all My bones are out of joint; My heart is like wax; it has melted within Me. My strength is dried up like a potsherd, and My tongue clings to my jaws; You have brought Me to the dust of death. For dogs have surrounded Me; the congregation of the wicked has enclosed Me. They pierced My hands and My feet (Psalm 22:14–16).
Enduring the Indefinite War
We are now commemorating the one-year mark of this terrible war. You would think we would’ve developed some sort of stamina over the past year. You would think we’d be better equipped to handle everything still happening.
Not much has changed. An enemy country continues to fire barrages of missiles on civilian homes in the Galilee and elsewhere in northern Israel. Another attack claimed the lives of 12 innocent Druze children. An Israeli Defense Forces (IDF) unit was surprised by a sniper, an IED (improvised explosive device) took the lives of three more wonderful people, and a hero—who is also my friend—gave his life so that four hostages could be rescued. Then, six more hostages were shot dead just a day before they were found to be rescued. Is there any path of normalcy in all this? (Asking for 7 million Jewish Israeli friends.)
Tears stream down my face every single time I think for more than a few seconds about all that’s going on around me in my beloved country. Everyone has lost someone they knew: a father, a mother, a brother, a sister, a friend. The pain is somewhat different this time because our soldiers all went out to protect us. They dropped everything—their whole lives—to defend our homes, our families, and our loved ones. The deaths are so random that you never know where the next announcement will come from. Selflessly, I pray for my brother serving in reserves every single day. Selfishly, I pray that my sister isn’t called to active duty again.
They dropped everything—their whole lives—to defend our homes, our families, and our loved ones.
One year into this war, we Israelis have learned how to deal with it in small portions. We always use humor as a coping mechanism: the darker, the better. I’ll admit, I’m guilty of consuming some of that now and then, especially when it gets hard to breathe, and it seems there’s no end.
We Israeli Christians have also learned how to deal with the situation, little by little, bit by bit—“step by step by faith,” as my friend says. We’ve learned how to put differences aside and cook together, deliver goods to needy families, send funds to those in need, and serve IDF units with necessary supplies (medical, strategic, personal, anything that we can gather and send them). Our camaraderie has been one to marvel at and rejoice in, for “out of the strong came something sweet” (Judges 14:14).
Proactive Prayer
What about the rest of the worldwide church? This question has many angles, not all positive. But let me ask a fundamental question: When you “pray for the peace of Jerusalem” (Psalm 122:6), does your part in this peace end with citing these words, apathetically leaving God solely responsible for bringing about this peace, or are the believers living in Israel responsible for “creating a path” for this peace? Don’t get me wrong: God is sovereign and can carry out His will in His way and timing. But what is your mind and heart’s posture as you pray for Israel? Do you see yourself, your family, church, and community engaged in proactive prayer? Do you know what that looks like in your context and mine?
We live in a time in history when our choices may be more critical than ever. How we live out our faith may be more significant than ever. What you and I do makes all the difference because we stand together in active faith and love: “By this all will know that you are My disciples, if you have love for one another” (John 13:35).
Photo Credit: Spokesperson unit of ZAKA
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I have supported FOI for many years but somehow it seems as though they have dropped off my radar. I will begin supporting them again soon