Giving Back to Our Jewish Community and Israel in the New Year and Beyond

JNS.org – Rabbi Hillel said: “If I am not for myself, who will be for me? If I am only for myself, what am I? And if not now, when?”

If I am not for myself, who will be for me?

Aug. 3, 1990. I was 27 years old and in Jerusalem, about to enter a year of study at a yeshivah. Iraq leader Saddam Hussein had just invaded Kuwait. My parents called me frantic, telling me that a major war was impending. They implored me to leave the country immediately. The fact that my mother is a Holocaust survivor added poignancy to their plea. I was their youngest, whom they had doted on my entire life.

I was torn. I wanted to stay with my people. However, there was a lifetime of warnings from my mother: When the calamity comes, be ready to run to safety. In the end, those warnings and my fealty to my parents won out. I took the first flight I could find out of Israel, which eventually landed me in England. It was there, through some twists and turns of fate, that I met the woman who was to become my wife.

If I am only for myself, what am I?

Oct. 8, 2023. It is 34 years and four children later. Our youngest, a daughter, is 18 and in Israel for a year’s study at a seminary. My wife and I scramble to the phone right after the Simchat Torah to inquire about her well-being. The news of the 1,200 killed in Israel is starting to come into our awareness.

My wife and I are worried, but our daughter knows what she wants to do. Only four girls in her seminary are preparing to go home. She wants to stay. My wife and I, both children of Holocaust survivors, are faced with a choice.

It is one that many Jews have faced over the past year. In its most basic form, it is a choice between fear and love. Fear impels us to flee. Love invites us to approach. This impulse to approach was demonstrated in the outstanding numbers of Israel Defense Forces soldiers and reservists who poured into the country, ready to defend it in the aftermath of Oct. 7.

This approach was also demonstrated by the many Jews who traveled to Israel to pick fruit on kibbutzim, pack food for soldiers, and visit the wounded and traumatized individuals. My wife and I became involved in these efforts when we traveled to Israel in January. We sanitized commodes at a medical center, scrubbed potatoes, packaged food at a food bank and met with a relative who had lost her son—a professor and advocate for Palestinian-Israeli dialogue and peace—on Oct. 7.

While in Israel, my wife and I lent our ears and our hearts to a Russian Jewish convert with whom we were staying as she described her daily fears for her three children who were serving in the IDF. She spoke with a note of defiance in her voice, saying that Israel needed more than American money. Israel needed us to come, live there and stand by our people. It was a challenge that certainly gave us a lot to think about. I did tell her that I may not have come to live in Israel, but my heart has been very much there, and I have cried many times in my prayers for Israel during the prior months. Of all the things that we did when we were in Israel, perhaps one of the most beautiful was when this woman—a hardworking nurse who lived alone—said she had an aching back, and my wife lovingly gave her a back massage, literally bringing a caring hand to where it was needed.

I suppose you can guess by now the choice we made regarding our daughter. We supported her desire to stay. We chose love over fear. That is tremendously much easier to say than it was to do. Nonetheless, our daughter, my wife and I, and all the Jewish people are greater for that choice made over the past year.

Even though my mother, now 94, experienced considerable fear for my daughter, my wife and me being in Israel, I believe that she is also proud of the decisions we made.

And if not now, when?

Now, the Jewish New Year is upon us. It’s a time of reflection and soul-searching. Have we grown through these experiences? And can we hold on to the better version of ourselves that we have become?

The same drama of love versus fear and approach versus self-protection presents itself. As we head into 5785, we need to realize that reaching out to our Jewish brothers and sisters is not just about missions to Israel. We must also reach out to our Jewish neighbors, congregants, spouses, parents and children, who need us now more than ever.

A Jew does not just care about all of his people; he cares about each of his people and does what he can to lend a helping hand. That is just what family does.

And, if not now, when?

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