Most call it last Thursday. Jews call it Erev Lag Ba’omer – which in Israel is campfire night. And I call that Thursday: another day in our rollercoaster paradise.
It started with my Republican friends feeling betrayed by Donald Trump’s “turn against Israel,” and my Democratic friends seeming more thrilled that they were vindicated than worried about the Jewish State. I kept saying “take a breath,” waiting to see how things play out, exhausted by the injection of theological language into politics – good/evil, faith/betrayal. No politician is perfect – and very, very, few are perfectly evil. And while I never shared my right-wing friends’ delighted delusions about Trump, I remember the alternative was named “Kamala Harris.”
I’m glad I gave myself that advice – I needed to keep breathing deeply as the day unfolded.
That evening we drove to Kibbutz Kvutzat Yavneh for the opening of this beautiful bar, hangout space, and fire-pit in memory of our 22-year-old friend Ben Mizrachi who fought terrorists instead of running away at the Nova festival — until they murdered him. “We” wasn’t all of us in the Troy family who loved Ben, one of our sons is deployed again, approaching his 350th day of miluim.
The evening was remarkably upbeat, with hundreds of people enjoying this magical space, which is what Ben was and his parents wanted. After the short, moving, ceremony, we were talking to his amazing parents in front of the crowded, lively, outdoor bar they built – quite literally, the dad and his best friend with their own hands! Some kids sang yom huledet sameach — Happy Birthday to you – boisterously, to a friend. I said to Ben’s father, “you see, your vision just came alive.” Itsik responded: “There’s a party! It makes me expect Ben to come right through the door”: it breaks your heart and lifts your spirit absolutely at once. Of course, amid all the love and pain and fun and pride and longing, Ben’s mom admitted, “machar nitrasek,” tomorrow we fall apart.
For context: on the way, I checked in by WhatsApp with a young neighbor, Yoni, father of three kids under four-years-old, just to send him love on his umpteenth day of miluim, reserves. He wrote: “my unit killed nine terrorists today so it’s important we are here” – he wouldn’t say where is “here.” I presume it’s Gaza and morale there and mission clarity is not what you read in Ha’aretz.
And speaking of Ha’aretz, I read yet another column on its website accusing Israel of committing “genocide,” which means “systematic destruction of a nation” not “fighting a difficult war of self-defense under horrific urban warfare conditions, as the enemy including ‘civilians’ holds dozens of your people hostage.” I had the reaction every democratic patriot should have when your own newspapers libel you. An impulse to sue them for libel for defaming all our heroic kids overwhelmed me – until to be checked by pride at living in a democracy with a free, if infuriating, press.
Meanwhile, during the Ben evening, sirens warbled throughout the country, once again, terrifying tens of thousands of kids who were out in the fields, enjoying their medurot – campfires – ahem, carefully controlled, Israel style, of course!
Finally, we scrambled home early because another son was called back to base for an emergency week of reserves. He and his buddies will be helping to hunt down the killers of Tzeela Gez, the thirty-year-old pregnant mother of three whose murder Hamas celebrated as an “heroic act.” My politically correct autocorrect warns me against the word “hunt” – but what else is appropriate for human-born beasts who proudly committed such a heinous act?
And the whole country is wondering how Tzeela’s husband Hananel bounces back, having flipped in a millisecond from rushing his wife to the delivery room to seeing her murdered in front of his own eyes. It reminds us, yet again, of flipping in another deadly millisecond from kite-making for peace or partying at Nova to being slaughtered – or fighting back — on October 7. But, Hananel reassured his family, “I’m obviously shattered, but I thank God that I’m alive and promise to stay strong. They will never break us.”
By 7:30 AM, Friday – Lag Ba’omer — about ten hours after they all got the call, these teachers-high tech executives-Hebrew U students turned democratic warriors were all on base. They had put their classes, exams, business meetings, vacations, families on hold for yet another week, at the drop of a dime, once again. Still, they were smiling, chatting, unloading gear, loading weapons. It felt more like camp reunion than combat briefing.
These everyday superheroes in green uniforms carry the burden of defending us, of protecting Western civilization against bloodthirsty barbarians, with an ease, a lightness, you actually have to see and absorb, to believe. And because they will be doing whatever it is they, my neighbor Yoni, and tens of thousands of others need to do, this Friday morning, the rest of us are shopping, hanging out, working, and preparing for a Shabbat Shalom, a peaceful – and safe – Sabbath.
Professor Gil Troy, a Senior Fellow in Zionist Thought at the JPPI, the Jewish People Policy Institute, the Global ThinkTank of the Jewish People, is an American presidential historian. His latest books, “To Resist the Academic Intifada: Letters to My Students on Defending the Zionist Dream” and “The Essential Guide to October 7th and its Aftermath” were just published.
