AISH

Joan Rivers: Can We Talk?
She used her acerbic wit to defend Israel and the Jewish people.
by Sara Debbie Gutfreund         
On June 8, 1933 a little girl, Joan Alexandra Molinsky, was born. Her parents, Beatrice and Meyer, were Russian Jewish immigrants who raised their two daughters originally in Brooklyn before settling in Larchmont, New York. Joan graduated Phi Beta Kappa from Barnard College in 1954 and before entering show business, she worked as a tour guide at Rockefeller Center, as a writer at an advertising agency and as a fashion consultant at Bond Clothing Store. She changed her name to Joan Rivers when she entered the acting world, and in February 1983, she became the first female comedian to ever perform at Carnegie Hall. She became famous for her direct sense of humor and for her insistence in "telling it like it is."

Though Joan was not an observant Jew, she was a member of Temple Emanuel in New York and often stated publicly that she "loved Israel." In the middle of Operation Protective Edge this past summer Joan told the media: "Let me just tell you, if New Jersey were firing rockets into New York, we would wipe them out. And Palestinians, you cannot throw rockets and expect people not to defend themselves. Don't you dare put weapon stashes in private homes. They started it. You're all insane. How do I know? Because I have been over there. That's how I know. And I wish the world would know. And BBC should be ashamed of themselves and CNN should be ashamed of themselves and everybody stop it already."
Joan Rivers -- GOES OFF on Epic Israel/Palestine Rant
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j-5Q7yuaXjM

When Joan died on Thursday afternoon at the age of 81, from a series of cardiac complications following a routine surgery, the Jewish people lost one of our most outspoken and unapologetic voices. We may not have appreciated all of Joan's jokes or her satirical humor style, but we can learn from her courage and strength. Here are ten of her quotes that teach us how to follow our own dreams and stand up for who we are:
1. Appreciate the moment. "Yesterday is history. Tomorrow is a mystery, today is God's gift, that's why we call it the present."
2. Be grateful. "I enjoy life when things are happening. I don't care if it's good things or bad things. That means you're alive. Things are happening."
3. Examine your beliefs. "Don't follow any advice, no matter how good, until you feel as deeply in your spirit as you think in your mind that the counsel is wise."
4. Speak up. "I succeeded by saying what everyone else was thinking."
5. Learn to smile. "Life is very tough. If you don't laugh, it's tough."
6. Be true to yourself. "I'm in nobody's circle, I've always been an outsider."
7. Pursue your dreams even when the world tries to take them away. "What are people going to do? Fire me? I've been fired before. Not book me? I've been out of work before. I don't care."
8. Face your fears. "I lived to be on stage and I'm terrified. Terrified before every show."
9. Use every opportunity. "I was smart enough to go through any door that opened."
10. Have confidence in your work. "You can find my book at your favorite bookstore and if it isn't there find a new favorite."
But the greatest legacy that Joan Rivers left the world is her famous expression: “Can we talk?” Joan was a person who lived her life as a connector, as someone who wanted to reach audiences, small and large and share ideas and struggles with others. In 1997, Joan published a candid book describing her struggle with bulimia after her husband’s death. And despite undergoing multiple plastic surgeries, Joan was open about her continuing challenges with her self- image culminating in her bestselling book “I Hate Everyone Starting with Me.”

Speech helps us to get out of our self-absorption and self-contained world. We do not need to face our struggles alone. Can we talk? Can we share our struggles and our triumphs with each other? Can we be proud of who we are and where we come from? Can we stand up for what we believe in? Can we talk? Can we admit that we are afraid and show up anyway? Can we talk? Can we learn to smile even when life is tough? Can we remember how to laugh with each other even when we see things differently?
Can we take this precious lesson from Joan Rivers and use it to change our own lives? To speak up when we need to. To face our fears. To share our struggles. To reach out to the world and to each other even when it seems like no one is listening.
Is there someone that you need to speak to? Is there something you have been wanting to share? Is there a conversation you know you need to have, but you can’t seem to build up enough courage? Try Joan’s three words: "Can we talk?" Sometimes that is all you need to say.
Thank you, Joan for teaching us how to speak up and how to share our struggles with each other. And for using your talents for defending Israel and the Jewish people.
READ MORE http://www.aish.com/ci/a/Joan-Rivers-Can-We-Talk.html

Ban Ki-moon, Why Are You Silent?
by Gila and Doron Tragerman
A letter by Daniel Tragerman's parents to UN Secretary General Ban Ki-moon.
Text of a letter sent by Gila and Doron Tregerman, parents of 4.5 year-old Daniel, who was killed during a mortar attack on his kibbutz, to UN Secretary General Ban Ki-moon.
For UN Secretary-General, Mr. Ban Ki-moon
Dear Sir,
My name is Gila, I am an Israeli citizen, and I am a resident of Kibbutz Nahal Oz, near the border with Gaza.
A week ago, we lost our eldest son, Daniel 4.5 years old, when he was killed by a mortar shell fired from Gaza into Israel.
I address you after your announcement to Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, to establish an international investigation Committee to investigate "Israel's crime" in the recent fighting in Gaza.
About us: Doron and I were married five years ago and we have three amazing kids: Daniel 4.5 yrs, Yoval 3.5 yrs and Uri 4 months old. We were a happy family. We lived in Kibbutz Nahal Oz near Gaza, and found ourselves constantly debating whether not to abandon Nahal Oz and move to another location, quieter, safer, far from rocket fire from Gaza, and far away from the alarms.
Then came the threat of terrorist tunnels, which Hamas members dug from Gaza to Israel under our home to hurt us. At night we heard noises and voices digging beneath us. Thus, in the last six months our children slept with the window closed and locked. We were afraid that they will be kidnapped from us.
Can you imagine our life, Mr. Secretary-General? How do you live in constant fear of mortar shell and terrorists emerging from tunnels?
Then, last Friday [August 22], Daniel was killed. All the precautions we had taken failed. Daniel, 4.5 yrs old, was killed in our House, while playing with Yoval in a tent built indoors and not outside, because it's dangerous. He was killed from a mortar shell that was shot by terrorists from Gaza, he died in our hands. Daniel died in front of his little sister and his best friend Yoval, 3.5 years old; he died in front of Uri, only four months old and right before our eyes, his mother and father.

We failed. We couldn't protect our beautiful and talented baby. Daniel was killed from a mortar shell that was fired by Hamas members from an elementary school for boys in Gaza City. It wasn't a stray shell. It wasn't accidental death. From that school terrorists fired deliberately at the kibbutz to murder civilians — children, women, old people. This time, they also achieved their goal. Daniel was killed almost immediately. Daniel's father, Doron, covered him with a blanket while crying bitterly and we escaped from home with two small children, leaving our precious son behind, in order to protect them from bombings that continued to explode around the house. Yoval, Daniel's sister, saw the terrifying sight and understood that something terrible happened.
It is unbearable to watch that little child staring at the wall, in overwhelming silence with teardrops from her eyes.
This week, during the "shiv'ah"(Jewish ritual of mourning) at Doron's parents home, we heard of your decision to appoint an international investigation committee to investigate "Israel's crime" during the recent fighting in Gaza. You informed Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu half an hour after our Daniel was killed, perhaps while he was lying dead in our living room, covered in a blanket.
The investigation committee will examine the "crimes of Israel" during the fighting.
The investigation committee is not asked to investigate how terrorists shoot out of U.N buildings and schools.
The committee is not asked to investigate how inside buildings of the United Nations and in hospitals in Gaza terrorist infrastructure flourishes and is maintained over time, or how from these places terrorists depart for activity aimed against innocent people.
It won’t investigate how Hamas abuses the Palestinian people, and how its members force residents of Gaza, even children, to dig tunnels aimed only for terrorism against Israel.
It won’t investigate how after these excavations, carried out under duress and in slave-like conditions, the Hamas murdered the diggers, even the children, just to be sure they won't be able to pass information to Israel.
Why are you silent? Does your silence indicate consent with the abuse of the Palestinian people and the Israeli people?
The answers to these questions will remain unknown.
And I want to ask you, Sir:
Do you and the U.N not see the links that make up the global terrorism picture?
The terrorists units, fully equipped and full of hatred that attacked us in our homes, are the same units that kidnapped 43 UN observers in Syria; They are the same units that decapitated innocent people in Syria and Iraq; these units crashed aircrafts into crowded buildings in 2001 in New York; these units threaten the essence of democratic life, and life itself, in Europe, in the United States and anywhere on the planet.
Let me tell you some more about the history of our lives here, on the border with Gaza. My husband's parents, Doron, also live near the border fence and three and a half years ago a Qassam rocket exploded and destroyed their home.
Up until a few years ago they had good relations with the residents of Gaza. They hired workers from Gaza to work in their fields and Paulina, Daniel's grandmother, drove them home – to Rafah, every evening after work. They used to invite each other for weddings and other celebrations and often traveled to Rafah or Gaza to enjoy life at cafes there.
All that ended when Hamas rose to power and ordered the civilians who worked in Israel to kill their Israeli employers; otherwise, Hamas would hurt their families. Daniel's grandparents used to tell us this, longing and hoping that the good proximity will resume. They even found ways to maintain contact with their friends from Gaza during the mortar shelling. Like the parents of Doron and their friends from Gaza, we want to live in good proximity, in peace and security. It is our hope that our neighbors, the people of Gaza, will be able to live peacefully in their homes and build and develop their beautiful country. We believe that the vast majority of the people on this planet do not want to see the sights of blood, tears and fire of the radical Islam movement, but to live peacefully, enjoy kid's laughter, wait for a better tomorrow.
We do not seek the people responsible for our Daniel's death.
We only wish your response and your voice against this crime and the crime Hamas has committed against their own people.
Gila and Doron Tragerman
Parents of Daniel (RIP), Yoval and Ori
http://www.aish.com/jw/me/Ban-Ki-moon-Why-Are-You-Silent.html


Identifying Your Life's Mission
by Sara Yoheved Rigler
This Rosh Hashanah, electrify your life with purpose.


Why They Were Beheaded
by Rabbi Benjamin Blech
The profound meaning of this gruesome death.
Daniel Pearl, James Foley, Steven Sotloff all shared a gruesome death that has become the signature murder carried out by Islamic fanatics. It is the kind of killing that Isis and its followers promise to inflict upon Americans and all other infidels around the world.
And it is the kind of butchery that creates perhaps the most primal visceral response of disgust, of fear, and of horror.
Murder by any means is a crime beyond compare. Yet beheading seems to comprise a category all of its own. We shudder as we contemplate it. Our mind cannot absorb its reality. In the most powerful sense of all we cannot grasp a divide between the self-awareness of our heads as distinct from the responsiveness and wholeness of our bodies.
The very thought of beheading is in an ironic way almost enough to make us lose our minds.
Yet that has become the preferred method of execution by the contemporary enemies of civilization. And I believe there is a profound subconscious motive, aside from the obvious desire to create dread, which guides today’s terrorists to choose decapitation.
Human beings, we are told in the Bible, are created in the image of God. It is not in our physical appearance that we share a likeness to our Creator. It is in our minds that we share of his wisdom, intuit his greatness, and sense his sanctity. That is why our heads are given the task to direct messages to the rest of our bodies. From there come the signals that oversee all of our actions.
No wonder that Jews are commanded to daily bind tefillin – phylacteries - “for a sign upon their hands and for frontlets between their eyes.” There are two components to this mitzvah, two symbolic boxes to serve as reminders of our link with God and our need to live lives of holiness. One box is placed on our hand to symbolize that we dedicate our deeds to God. The other is on our head, over the seat of our intellectual activity. Its message is to make clear that we understand ultimate sovereignty of our actions comes from the free willed decisions of our minds, keys to our shared image with our Creator.
Head and body linked define our spiritual identity.
There is a fascinating story in the Talmud which at first glance seems almost incomprehensible. It tells us of a beheading that took place in biblical times at the time of the burial of our patriarch Jacob.
Jacob’s body was brought to Hebron, to the Cave of the Patriarchs, Me'arat Ha'machpelah. There were eight burial plots in the cave; Adam, Eve, Abraham, Sarah, Isaac, Rebecca and Leah were already buried there, leaving only a single available grave. Esau, Jacob’s twin and older brother, acknowledged that he had sold his birthright to Jacob but maintained that he hadn’t given up his right to be buried in the Cave and with armed force prevented his brother’s burial from proceeding. Jacob’s children sent fleet-footed Naphtali back to Egypt to bring the proof of ownership.
While all this was going on, Chushim, the deaf son of Dan, asked what the commotion was all about, and was incensed to learn that Esau had halted the funeral of his revered grandfather. With a mighty blow of his sword, Chushim severed Esau’s head, which rolled into the Cave of Machpelah and came to rest in Isaac’s lap, where it remains to this day. Thus it came to pass that “Esau’s head lies in the bosom of Isaac.”
So ends the story. And so we are told that to this day the holiest tomb of our people contains not just the remains of eight holy ancestors but the head of one other, held close to the bosom of his father.
What is the meaning of this strange tale?
Esau was a villain. Of course he knew better. He was the son of Isaac. As Jacob’s twin, he assuredly had the same potential for spiritual greatness. But Esau followed a different path. His life was that of a hunter and hedonist. Between head and body, he chose the latter as guide for his behavior.
His body did not deserve to be buried in a place of holiness. It would not be accorded this honor. But his head, his link with the image of God and blessed with the potential for greatness, was granted the gift of internment together with his father who loved him not for what he was but for all that he might have become.
Head and body together unite us in thought and deed. Separating them conveys a statement of profound meaning; its intent is to reject the power of mind. It seeks to destroy the influence of the one divine gift that is the distinctive feature of civilized mankind. Its mission is literally to make human beings mindless, barbarians motivated solely by bodily desires.
That is why today’s battle against the Islamic savages videotaping their murders by decapitation is a war that must be waged if civilization is to survive.
Published: September 6, 2014
http://www.aish.com/ci/s/Why-They-Were-Beheaded.html

What Do I Know?
http://www.aish.com/sp/pg/What_Do_I_Know.html
When not knowing is true wisdom.
by Sara Yoheved Rigler         
Women Only: Finally discover what it takes to improve your marriage with Sara Yoheved Rigler http://www.jewishworkshops.com/sara-yoheved-rigler-free-webinar/

In the Calcutta orphanage where I worked in the 1980s, the girls used an expression that challenged my worldview. When I would ask a simple question, such as, “Where’s Bhavani?” or “What time is Didi coming back?” they would usually answer with two Bengali words: Ki jani? Rather than a specific, “I don’t know,” ki jani is a more sweeping, “What do I know?” It’s a global confession, an existential declaration of the sheer inability of mere mortals to know.

In the Western world where I was raised, knowledge was the ultimate value. Textbook knowledge got you into a good college or grad school. Knowledge of current events and national politics won you the approbation, “well-informed.” Even knowledge of trivialities, such as where Babe Ruth was born or what year Napoleon was defeated at Waterloo, became a passion, spawning a million-dollar trivia industry. During my twenties, I used to devour Newsweek and Time, lest someone at a cocktail party would ask me about some recondite political figure and I would have to publicly confess to the cardinal sin of not knowing. (Alas, in my life I was invited to only one cocktail party, and no one asked me anything, not even my name.) Not knowing was an embarrassment, a public pillory to be avoided at all costs. If I didn’t know, I would guess. If I couldn’t guess, I would fake it.

Of course, knowledge is one of the important motivators of humanity and has great inherent value. But for many of us, the thirst for knowledge can turn into an alcoholic-like compulsion to know, an inability to accept the insecurity of ignorance. Then we fill in the blanks at any cost, stamping the imprimatur of “truth” on every supposition. The knowledge-addicted mind can turn fantasy into fact, assumptions into character assassination, and conjecture into condemnation.

No wonder I felt challenged every time my Calcutta orphans humbly declared, “Ki jani? — What do I know?”
Related Article: How Can We Be Sure of Anything?

Insufficient Evidence

Reb Shlomo Carlbach was once praying in a South African synagogue. Much to his horror, the cantor appointed for that service was terrible. He could barely carry a tune and garbled the Hebrew words. As Reb Shlomo listened to this affront to his musical sensibilities, he became more and more irritated. How could they let such an incompetent lead the services? he wondered with mounting indignation. He surmised that the man must be a wealthy donor and the synagogue leadership had kowtowed to him by giving him the honor of leading the prayers. What a sacrilege! What a capitulation to the power of money!



After the service, Reb Shlomo complained to shul’s rabbi. He was told that that man had, before the Holocaust, been the most prominent cantor in all of Europe. Hearing of his reputation, the Nazis had deliberately targeted him for torture. They had mangled his tongue with iron instruments and had injured his hearing. The rabbi, in deference to who this cantor had once been and what he had suffered, honored him by asking him to lead the prayers that day.
The Nazis had mangled his tongue with iron instruments and had injured his hearing. The rabbi asked him to lead the prayers that day.

The Nazis had mangled his tongue with iron instruments and had injured his hearing. The rabbi asked him to lead the prayers that day

Reb Shlomo told this story with the anguish of one who has judged harshly — and wrongly. He heard the man’s incompetent singing. What did he know of his past? How could he know the whole story? Ki jani?

Individuals are commanded to give the benefit of the doubt (See Leviticus, 19:15). This means that even if you witness someone doing something wrong, unless the person is a known miscreant, you are obligated to find some favorable interpretation. Often your “not guilty” verdict will be based on “insufficient evidence,” your admission that you don’t know the whole story. Can anyone ever know the whole story?
Here’s how this looks in real time:
You ask your rich friend to sponsor you in a charity marathon, and he offers you a paltry sum. You conclude that he’s stingy, but is it possible that he’s suffered financial reverses that you don’t know about?
Your new supervisor is acting tense, critical, and unfairly demanding. You conclude that she’s cantankerous by nature, but is it possible that she’s going through a divorce that you don’t know about?
Your intelligent child comes home from school with bad grades. You conclude that he’s lazy and isn’t trying, but is it possible that he has a learning disability that you don’t know about?
Your neighbor is neglecting his property. The grass is too long and the garbage is starting to pile up on his side of the fence. You conclude that he is shamefully negligent, but is it possible that his wife was diagnosed with cancer and they are preoccupied with life-and-death matters?

My friend Jen is a 35-year-old widow with four young daughters. She used to rent out the roof of her former apartment for events. The day after she got up from sitting shiva for her husband, her phone rang. When Jen answered, the woman on the other end inquired about renting the roof for a wedding. “I don’t rent out the roof anymore,” Jen said simply, and hung up. A moment later the phone rang again. This time it was the inquirer’s husband, ranting and yelling at Jen for hanging up on his wife. What do we ever know?

All the anger and resentment we feel starts with a negative judgment: s/he is doing something wrong. If we could quell the negative judgment by telling ourselves, “I really don’t know the whole story,” we would save ourselves and others so much grief.
Judging God
The most destructive negative judgments we make are when we judge God. “How could God have let that child die?” “How could God have let the hurricane destroy the home of that wonderful couple?”

Here, more than anywhere else, we are judging with insufficient evidence. As Rebbetzin Tziporah Heller says, we are on page 324 of a 400-page book. All we are able to see is pages 310 through 340. The rest is hidden from us.

The sacrosanct name of God, uttered only on Yom Kippur by the High Priest in the Holy of Holies of the Temple in Jerusalem, can be understood as the condensation of three verbs: He was, He is, He will be. That is, God’s infinitude encompasses all time, from the primordial beginning of time to its ultimate end. Only God knows the intricacies of all our past and future incarnations and how every single action affects every being on the planet. Such mega-ecology is far beyond our ken.
When I gave up the presumption of knowing, I started to learn.

When I started to learn Torah 26 years ago, my insistence on my ability to know was perhaps my greatest obstacle to actually knowing God. My questions – about the Holocaust, the suffering of the innocent – were arrogant demands that the Infinite God fit into the confines of my three-pound brain. My turning point came when Rebbetzin Heller said to me, “This world, olam in Hebrew, comes from the root word meaning ‘hidden.’ God is essentially hidden in this world. No matter how smart you are, no matter how much you know, you will never fully know God.” Then she added, “And would you really believe in a God that was no bigger than your finite mind’s ability to grasp?”

When I gave up the presumption of knowing, on that day I started to learn.
Obvious Conclusions
Alex, at age 39, was intelligent, artsy, sensitive, handsome, and spiritual. No wonder my friend Denise fell for him. I would see them sitting on a bench in the neighborhood square, engrossed in deep conversation. A few months went by. Then, when we were all anticipating that they would announce their engagement, suddenly Alex broke it off. Denise was heart-broken.
I was angry. Denise was kind, generous, and smart, but she had an acne-scarred complexion. Obviously Alex, for all his vaulted spirituality, couldn’t get past the externals. Is his sense of beauty only skin-deep? I protested under my breath. And if he was so turned off by her bad complexion, why did he lead her on?

A few months later my friend Shirley phoned. She told me she was interested in a match with Alex and asked me to speak to him about her. Shirley was pretty, stylish, and spiritual. Like Alex, she had become observant several years before. Thirty-eight years old, Shirley was eager to get married. It sounded to me like a perfect match, so I called Alex. He told me he wasn’t interested in going out with her. “Why?” I insisted. "What are you waiting for?” Alex stonewalled me. I hung up annoyed.
Obviously he wants someone younger, probably much younger, I concluded. But why would a topnotch 25-year-old want to marry Alex? He overrates himself. This is why there are so many wonderful women who never get married. Guys like Alex are always looking for girls half their age.
A couple months later the head of our local Chesed Committee called. She told me that Alex was sick with bronchitis and she asked me to make soup for him. I cooked the soup—grudgingly. If he had married one of my friends, I sputtered to myself, she would be taking care of him instead of the neighborhood women.

During that spring, I sporadically saw Alex, thin, pale, and all wrapped up, sitting on a bench in the sun. Once, I stopped to speak with him. I told him that his problem was that he needed to get married, that the bachelor life obviously did not agree with him, that there were many wonderful women who would be happy to make a home with him. He nodded silently, pursing his mouth, making me feel like a meddlesome neighbor.
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Three months later Alex died of AIDS. What, indeed, did I know?
For the aliyat neshama of my mother, Leah bas Yisrael, on her 20th yahrzeit. She truly embodied the humility of not judging others negatively.

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Higher Standard or Double Standard?
Don’t set a double standard for Israel on norms of war.
by Natan Sharansky         
The pictures of destruction and mourning in Gaza that have filled media around the world for the past several weeks have been very painful and sad to view. One would be hard-pressed to find an Israeli who does not sympathize with the suffering of Gaza’s victims.

Yet there are also few Israelis who feel we are responsible for this suffering. For us, the tragedy of Gaza is inseparable from the tragedy of the entire Middle East. Over the past three years, in countries around our tiny state, more than a quarter of a million people have been killed in the most horrific ways. This wave of terror recognizes no official borders. The only border at which the savagery stops is Israel’s.

Hamas and Hezbollah are doing their best to change this. So what protects us? The United Nations or human rights groups? No. Only the military power of the Israel Defense Forces. In response to our enemies’ relentless campaigns, the army is constantly developing new ways to defend us. One new weapon, Iron Dome, has in the past few weeks protected civilians from almost 3,000 missiles.

But while Israelis have developed missile shields to protect children, Hamas has been using children as shields to protect missiles. This perverse strategy is the brainchild of a society that hails death. For Hamas, using living shields serves the double function of increasing the number of martyrs and galvanizing a free world that values life to pressure Israel to stop fighting.

The sad irony, then, is that while the world can do so little to stop the terror in Syria or Sudan, it can do a lot to press Israel to stop defending itself. We ask ourselves, is this hypocrisy? Is this a betrayal by the free world whose values we are defending? And in response, Israel hears from the international community, “Of course you are judged differently. You insist that you are part of the free world, so we hold you to a higher standard than neighboring countries, where wanton destruction of human life is the norm.”

I strongly agree with this argument.

Israel, like any other free country, should be held to a higher moral standard than its unfree neighbors. As the war against terror becomes increasingly global, it is imperative that all free countries develop and uphold common norms in our military conduct against armies of terror. Israel, with its decades-long experience, can contribute much to this effort.

For example, 12 years ago, during the Second Intifada, I was a member of the Israeli security cabinet when the army first decided to use aviation to target terrorist leaders. In nearly every cabinet meeting, Israel’s attorney general insisted that our targets must be chosen not on the basis of crimes already committed, but solely in light of proof that they were planning new terrorist acts. In other words, no matter how much death and destruction someone had caused, a targeted killing could be justified only by documented intentions to carry out another attack. A serious case had to be prepared for each assassination attempt, and therefore the number of such operations could be counted on one hand. Now that targeted killings are practically the norm – when the United States uses drones for this purpose all over the world – I would hope others are as scrupulous as Israel has been.

Around the same time, we in the cabinet also discussed the importance of using weapons that minimize civilian deaths, even if this meant decreasing an operation’s chance of success. Many operations were modified or canceled because of this. Today, Israel goes even further. Before the IDF bombs an area in Gaza, residents are alerted by radio, e-mail, phone and text message telling them to leave. The Israeli army also uses small warning missiles to let civilians – that a real missile will soon be fired. Do other free countries go to similar lengths?

In 1999, when NATO launched its offensive against the criminal Milosevic regime in Yugoslavia, hundreds of civilians were killed in the bombings. Many more civilians were killed when U.S. warplanes hunted down Saddam Hussein’s family and supporters, and later al-Qaeda terrorists. They were killed in cafes, cinemas and even a wedding procession.

Let me be clear. I believe that it was the free world’s obligation to fight against the Milosevic regime, which carried out ethnic cleansing in the heart of Europe. I believe it is the obligation of the United States and free countries to lead an uncompromising struggle against terrorist organizations such as al-Qaeda and the Islamic State. But the obligation of the IDF to protect Israeli citizens from thousands of missiles and from underground terrorist infiltrations is just as sacred. In view of the developing global war between the free world and terror, it is time that leading military experts from Israel, the United States, Britain and other countries, along with international lawyers and politicians, compare their experiences and agree about the standards according to which the free world can defend itself.

But once these standards are accepted, they should be applied to every free country. Otherwise, stop calling it a higher standard and call it by its real name: a double standard.
This op-ed originally appeared in the Washington Post.

The Muslim Spy who Became a Jew
Avraham Sinai was a Hezbollah informant who risked his life for Israel.
by Avraham Sinai, as told to Chananya Bleich         
I grew up in a non-religious Muslim home in a small village in Lebanon. My family supported the Western-oriented Lebanese government. But the Beirut government was very weak, and in reality, Palestinian terrorists ruled the area. They made sure to harass and punish those of us in various ways because of our political opinions.
In 1982, the Israeli army came to Lebanon and life improved. Even before they arrived, I admired Israel. I could see the hills of northern Israel from Lebanon and wished I could go there. It seemed so peaceful. Not like Lebanon. Our lives before the Israelis came were filled with terror. The Israelis made our lives better in so many ways. The Israeli Army restored order. Suddenly everyone had a job, money, a good life and peace.

Of course, it was to their advantage as well. Anyone who wanted to live in peace accepted the Israeli presence gladly. There is a saying in Arabic: “If your neighbor is happy, then you are happy as well.”

In the eyes of the terrorists I was a traitor and a spy.

Over time, I bonded with the Israeli soldiers. I connected with them. They were good to us and I wanted to return the favor. If I saw terrorist activity, I would tell the soldiers, so basically you could say I became an informant. Yes, in the eyes of the terrorists I was a traitor and a spy. But I wanted to have a quiet village, a normal life. The terrorists’ activities were making life difficult for us, the local people. I wanted to help get rid of them.

In 1983, Hezbollah began staging more attacks against Israel, just like Hamas is doing now. Actually Hezbollah terrorists are the same Palestinians, they just changed their name to Hezbollah in order to get Shiite support, as the area has a Shiite majority. My family is Shiite, but we continued to reject the radicals and Hezbollah began harassing my family more and more, because they knew what we thought of them. They didn’t trust us.

Incarceration

In 1985, Hezbollah actually tried to kill my entire family, so we fled to a town in southern Lebanon, which was near the Israeli army base that controlled the area. By day the men in our family would tend to business back in our village but at night they’d return to the safety of the south. Until one day Hezbollah ambushed us in our house. My father and I and two of my brothers were kidnapped. We were locked in an underground bunker. We were held there for a whole year. It was very difficult. They tortured me often, cut me with knives, and the worst was when they burned my nine-month-old baby son in front of my eyes. You cannot imagine the suffering I went through there.

During that year, I had lots of time to reflect. I had grown up in a non-religious Muslim home; I never went to the mosque. We didn’t even have a mosque in the village. Growing up, I never read the Koran, so I didn’t know too much about the religion. In the bunker, I found a Koran, and I started to read it. I wanted to know what Hezbollah believed. Maybe they were right and I was ignorant. To my surprise I discovered that what they preached is not in the Koran at all.

The Koran makes no mention of martyrdom or warring against the Jews. That is all the invention of the terrorist extremists. In fact, according to Islam, someone who commits suicide is not permitted to be buried in a Muslim cemetery. All the Islamic violence is for political reasons, when they started to mix religion and politics. There is nothing written about fighting. What I did find, in the opening chapters, were all these remarkable stories about the Jewish patriarchs, about the Exodus from Egypt, about the giving of the Torah. [The Koran incorporates much of the Chumash, with some specific changes according to Islamic belief.] I started to believe that God was watching over me and didn’t want me to die. My life was in His hands.

I decided to try to join the inner circle of Hezbollah in the hope to help Israel

After a year in the bunker, our captors released us believing that we had all become true believers in Hezbollah’s cause. The first thing I did was go to the mosque, but when I heard the sheik say: ‘If you commit suicide and become a shaheed [martyr] you will be escorted over a river of fire and go to heaven.’ I thought to myself: If everything is so good there, why doesn’t the sheikh go himself? Besides, I had now read the Koran and knew that what he was saying was baseless. After my new realizations while imprisoned, I knew I would not follow this sheikh’s exhortation. I decided to do something else: I would try to join the inner circle of Hezbollah, in the hope to help Israel. I was determined to rid my country of Hezbollah so we can be free to practice true Islam.

Joining Hezbollah
At first they suspected my reasons for joining, so I explained to them that all the political problems I had had before were because of my brothers, and they shouldn’t blame me because of them. I was soon accepted into their ranks and lived among them. I saw everything. At one point, I was even part of a squad of terrorists that planned to attack an Israeli military base. That was the opportunity I was waiting for. I slipped out of the camp and hitched rides and walked and ran, until I reached the Israeli Army base in the south. I recognized some of the soldiers and gave them the information. There was one particular Israeli who had been to our house previously. I met with him privately and told him I wanted to work for Israel from within Hezbollah. He tried very hard to dissuade me.

He said “They already burned your child. If they catch you they will burn your whole family.” But I insisted. I told him: “Look what they did to me. Let me work with you. I hate them and want revenge for my baby.”

Of course, the IDF doesn’t just hire any Lebanese Muslim who claims he wants to be a spy for Israel. They have a rigorous system of background checks and personality tests. But after several months of being investigated, I became an Israeli plant in the echelons of Hezbollah.

For security reasons, I cannot discuss details of my time in Hezbollah. All I can say that I interfered with many of Hezbollah’s plans, prevented attacks and saved a lot of soldiers’ lives. I did a lot. God wanted me to succeed.

But I will tell you about that first attack I prevented. There were 150 terrorists, including suicide bombers, who were supposed to enter the base and kill many Israeli soldiers and kidnap others. I knew everything about this operation: where the missiles were; who would take part in the operation; who planned it; what vehicles would be used. I gave over all this information and, thank God, our forces prepared themselves. The Army buried mines along their intended path prior to the attack, killing many of the terrorists. I have many similar stories, how Israel dealt with those men who had the blood on their hands.

I worked from within Hezbollah for 14 years, from 1986 until 2000, helping prevent many terrorist attacks

Each time, I traversed 60 kilometers at night, to meet with the Israelis and transfer information. I loved the Israelis so much, I made the tremendous effort to reach them and bring them information. I know they relied on me to prevent attacks and I felt responsible to be a reliable conduit and bring them as much information as I could.

Crossing Over
In 1997 some members of the group became suspicious of me. I knew my time in Lebanon was coming to a close. One wrong move and I would be killed. It was time for my dream to be realized and move to Israel. With swift planning with the Israelis, my wife and children who were young then met me at a checkpoint and we crossed over. We settled in Tzfat. I continued to assist the IDF, this time from the other side of the border, for three more years. Knowing that my family was safe in Israel gave me encouragement to serve even more. I worked at gathering information with all the security forces: the Army, the Shin Bet and Mossad. To them I was better than any other soldier because I knew the area and the people very well.

On Erev Yom Kippur, in 2000, my life changed again, this time spiritually. I was sitting on the porch with my wife, and I saw all my neighbors are going to shul. I said to my wife: “A mosque is God’s house and a synagogue is also God’s house. I want to go there.” I asked my neighbor if it was permitted for me to go, and he said yes. The rabbi of the shul of course didn’t recognize me, and he gave me a kippah to put on figuring I was a non-religious Jew.

The day after Yom Kippur, I went back to work and I told my friend there that I went to the shul on Yom Kippur and they made me feel very welcome. He started to laugh. “What were you doing there?” Despite that, I started to go more often; I was drawn to Judaism. I felt it was part of my belief, my truth. It got to the point that I wanted to convert, but everyone turned me away. Finally, after great effort and a long time studying, I was converted by Rabbi Shmuel Eliyahu, chief rabbi of Tzfat.

Today we are a regular religious family. Anyone who sees me or my children could never tell of our past

My children cannot even converse in Arabic. But now we are having this war in Gaza and I think back to my earlier days. I know how terrorists work, how Hamas thinks. They have no goals except for destruction. Their sole intention is terror and destruction. Even their own self-destruction is meaningless to them. Peace in not what they seek. With them it’s all or nothing. I have dealt with suicide bombers. They do not think like humans. They do not love themselves so they treat others with total disregard.

We have given them so many options to make peace. We worked with Arafat and Abbas. Israel wants peace so badly and what did we get in return? Dozens of terror cells and tunnels. Remember, it’s not only the Jews that Hamas is fighting. They are fighting against the Palestinian Authority as well. They just need to fight. That’s all these terrorists know. Their lives have no purpose. With God’s help we will be strong and win.

I still have connections in Lebanon. I speak to my family and others. I also know many Arabs here in Israel and believe me, most of them want to live in peace and quiet. I think 90% would prefer to live under Israel than under Arab rule.

By the way, my family is very proud of me, that I have chosen a pleasant path to live my life. We are in touch and speak often. The Koran respects Judaism. If you do not believe in Moses, you do not believe in Islam. Choosing Judaism does not go against the Koran. Islamic terror groups murdering thousands in Syria to create a Muslim state? That is going against the Koran.
People ask me if I am afraid, if I have received threats from Hezbollah. I know if they could, they would kill me. I have heard that they are looking for me. But it doesn’t concern me. I feel safe here. I am not afraid. God put me here and my soul belongs to Him.
This article originally appeared in Ami Magazine.

Why Rabbi Akiva is My Hero
10 life lessons from an accessible giant.
by Rabbi Dovid Rosenfeld         
The period of counting the Omer is also a time of national mourning. The Talmud (Yevamot 62b) recounts that Rabbi Akiva, one of the greatest scholars of the Mishna, lost 24,000 students to plague during this time of year. The world was “desolate” until he raised five new students – who were able to restore the Torah to its full glory in that dark period.
Rabbi Akiva’s life is a fascinating tale of inspiration, of a man of humble origins who overcame it all to achieve greatness. I would like to outline some of the highlights of his life story – and demonstrate why I feel he serves as a personal role model to us all.

1. He was of Humble Origins
Rabbi Akiva began his life as a shepherd. He was entirely unlearned until his middle years. He likewise had no Jewish lineage to speak of (Talmud Brachot 27b). He descended from converts. And as he rose to greatness in his later years, he never forgot who he was or where he came from. His favorite principle was “Love your fellow as yourself” (Leviticus 19:18). Rich or poor, simple or scholarly, tall or short, strong or weak: We are all God’s children. God and His Torah are not the monopoly of the wise or the well-pedigreed. We are all precious to God.

2. He Saw Inspiration and Acted on it
The Midrash (Avot d’Rav Natan 6:2) records the turning point of Rabbi Akiva’s life. One day, at the age of 40, Akiva passed a well. He saw a rock with a hole carved into it. He inquired who shaped the rock, and was told it was caused by the slow but constant dripping of water on top of it.
Akiva then reasoned: If a substance soft as water can penetrate a rock with slow, persistent motion, so too the Torah, which is hard as iron, can slowly but surely penetrate my heart. And this was Akiva’s turning point. He promptly set off to study Torah – for an uninterrupted 24 years.
So many times in our lives are we moved by inspiring words or events. We know they are speaking to us, that God has a message for us. Yet the inspiration fades before we do anything about it – and life moves on. Not R. Akiva. He saw his moment – and he changed his life right then and there.

3. He Patiently Started from the Bottom
When Akiva went to study, he did not exactly hire a private tutor or join an adult study program. Nor did he sign up for an anonymous on-line course. The Midrash describes how he, together with his young son, went to cheder to learn the alef-bet together with the youngest children. And his past humility showed. He wasn’t fazed by the awkwardness; he didn’t care for his own dignity. He set right down to work.

4. He was No Super-Genius
It is not as if Rabbi Akiva really had an IQ of 180 all along but was just withering on the vine during his years as a shepherd. He had to work – and work hard – to become who he was.
The Talmud (Yevamot 16a) records a meeting R. Akiva had with a monumental scholar, to discuss a debate they had about a touchy subject in Jewish law. The other scholar was the raving genius type. No one could keep up with him in an argument – not even R. Akiva, by then the acknowledged leader of his generation.
The other scholar, after R. Akiva failed to convince him, had nothing but snide remarks for the supposed leading scholar of the generation. But as the Talmud continues, it didn’t faze Akiva in the slightest. He was still the shepherd-turned-scholar. He had no airs about him whatsoever.

5. He Asked All the Tough Questions
Rabbi Akiva, in spite of his late start, had a distinct advantage over his colleagues. Unlike they who began their study as small children, he came to it as an adult. And as a result, he approached the Torah with mature eyes. Nothing was taken for granted or viewed as, “Well, that’s just the way things are.” R. Akiva probed every aspect of Judaism – and discovered truths where others failed even to look.

R. Akiva discovered truths where others failed even to look.

We thus find Rabbi Akiva posing some of the most profound questions of life. In Pirkei Avot (3:19) he grapples with the contradiction between man’s free will and God’s knowledge of the future. If God already knows what I will do tomorrow, do I really have the free will to decide? He likewise discusses (3:20) how God’s governs and judges the world. The Midrash (Avot d’Rav Natan 6:2) describes R. Akiva as a persistent student, leaving no issue unexplored and unexplained. His colleague characterized him with the comment – “Matters hidden from people, R. Akiva has brought to light.”

6. It was All Because of His Wife – and He Knew it
So much of R. Akiva’s greatness was on account of his devoted wife Rachel. She “discovered” him. He served as shepherd for one of the wealthiest men of his time, Kalba Savua. Kalba’s daughter took a liking to the humble shepherd, whom she saw as modest and refined. She proposed to him – on condition that he agree to study Torah. He agreed and they married secretly. Kalba promptly disowned his daughter and for years the young couple lived in abject poverty (Talmud Ketuvot 62b).

If not for Rachel, Akiva would have no doubt remained an anonymous shepherd with little future. But she believed in him. Rachel left a life of fabulous wealth to make home for Akiva – because she knew he could become great – and she had the faith and the patience to see it happen. And when he was ready, she encouraged him to leave home to study – which he did for an uninterrupted 12 years.

But that was only half of it. The Talmud (Ketuvot 62-3) records that on his return, already an accomplished scholar, R. Akiva was about to enter his home. Just then he overhears a conversation. An elderly man challenges Rachel: “How long will you live as a widow with your husband alive?” She responds, “If [my husband] would listen to me, he would remain for another 12 years in yeshiva!” On that providential note, R. Akiva returns for another 12 years of study.

At last, after 24 years, R. Akiva returns to his hometown, now the leading scholar of the generation, escorted by an entourage of 24,000 students. His wife, still dressed in her simple house clothes, goes out to greet him. She falls before his feet. It creates a scene – an elderly woman thrusting herself before great rabbi surrounded by scores of devoted students. They move to push her away. But R. Akiva stops them, uttering a line which has since become famous: “Leave her. What is mine and what is yours is hers.”

7. He Never Forgot His Origins
R. Akiva “made it” in every sense of the word. By the end of his life he was the acknowledged spiritual leader of world Jewry. He became wealthy. He was revered and admired by all. His opinion was sought and regarded on all matters Jewish. Yet he never forgot where he came from. He was still one of the masses. He knew what it was like to be poor, to be unknown, and to be unlearned.
And his love for humanity showed. His favorite verse was Leviticus 19:18: “Love your fellow as yourself” (Sifra 4:12). In Pirkei Avot (3:18), he states, “Beloved is man for he was created in the image [of God],” as well as, “Beloved are the Children of Israel for they are called children of the Lord.” We are all precious to God. There is no favoritism in Heaven.
R. Akiva in fact well remembered his past hatred for Torah scholars (Talmud Pesachim 49b). He knew what it was like to be coarse and ignorant. And he remembered the resentment – and the hatred – felt by the underprivileged classes. He had love and patience for all – because he was one of them himself, and he realized how difficult it is to outgrow one’s past mindset.

8. He Lost All – and Kept Going
After achieving fame, R. Akiva became teacher and spiritual mentor to an astounding 24,000 students. As the Talmud (Yevamot 62b) recounts, every one of them died in an exceedingly brief period of time – during the several week period between Passover and Shavuot – due to epidemic. And as the Talmud puts it, the world was desolate. The human tragedy was devastating, the loss to the Torah world unimaginable.
But apart from all of that, R. Akiva personally witnessed his entire lifeworks go down the drain. Years of training the greatest minds of the next generation were lost to R. Akiva, with nothing remaining to show for himself.
If there were anyone in this world who could be forgiven for spending his remaining years wasting away feeling sorry for himself, it was R. Akiva. Could there have been a clearer sign from heaven that God was not interested in R. Akiva’s works, that his precious legacy was just not meant to be? How could a human being not become paralyzed from misery and indecision at that point?
But R. Akiva picked himself up and started again. As the Talmud continues, he found 5 new students – five to replaced 24,000. Rather than attempting to amass students without number, he focused on 5 precious souls, who would between them restore the Torah to its past glory.

He didn't let his inability to explain stand in the way of achievement.

No doubt R. Akiva never recovered from the pain of the loss. As we saw, his way was to ponder the most difficult questions of life. Yet he didn’t let his inability to explain stand in the way of his life’s mission. We all have questions in life we cannot answer. Even with his great intellect – or perhaps because of it – R. Akiva was no exception. But questions and doubts did not stop him. The rabbi’s intellect was far from assuaged, but he kept on going – and ultimately persevered.


9. He Always Saw the Positive
Looking back at his difficult life, Rabbi Akiva saw God’s goodness in all that transpired – not only in his personal life but in all the events of the world. He became famous for the saying, “Whatever God does is for the good.”
The Talmud (Brachot 60b) recounts how R. Akiva was once traveling. He had with him a lantern, a rooster, and a donkey. He came to a village seeking lodging. No one took him in. Undaunted, his trademark reaction went through his mind: “Whatever God does is for the good.” He set up camp in the wilderness nearby. During the night a wind blew out his lamp, a fox ate his rooster, and a lion slew his donkey. R. Akiva took it all in stride.
He awoke the next morning to find that during the night soldiers had sacked the village which refused him lodging. Not only would the rabbi have been captured with the other residents had he been there, but had his light or animals betrayed his camp he would have equally been doomed.

His colleagues cried at the pathetic sight but R. Akiva laughed.

The Talmud (Makkos 24b) relates that once R. Akiva and a number of colleagues passed by the former location of the Temple in Jerusalem (they lived shortly after its destruction). They saw a fox run out of the place of the Holy of Holies. The colleagues began crying at the pathetic sight. R. Akiva, however, laughed. To his surprised colleagues he explained: "We have both the prophecy of Uriah and of Zechariah. Uriah foretold, ‘Zion shall be plowed like a field’ (Micha 3:12). Zechariah foretold, ‘Again shall old men and old women sit in the streets of Jerusalem... and the streets of the city shall be filled with boys and girls playing’ (Zechariah 8:4-5). Until the prophecy of Uriah was fulfilled (fully and literally) I was fearful lest the prophecy of Zechariah not be fulfilled. Now that the prophecy of Uriah was fulfilled, it is clear that Zechariah's prophecy will be fulfilled – to the final detail."
R. Akiva lived through it all, yet he never lost hope. The very sights that brought others to tears of despair filled him with undying hope. All that occurs in this world, both the good and the bad, emanate from an infinitely-good Creator. But life isn’t always for us to understand. We must at times just be patient and wait.

10. He Died a Hero’s Death
We might hope that after living so troubled yet heroic a life, R. Akiva and Rachel would at last settle down to live happily ever after. But that was denied them as well.

The Talmud (Brachot 61b) describes Rabbi Akiva’s bitter end. He was incarcerated and tried by the Romans for his “crime” of publicly teaching Torah. He was found guilty as charged. They tortured him to death, flaying off his skin with sharpened iron combs.

R. Akiva spent his final moments on earth reciting the Shema, accepting upon himself the yoke of Heaven. His students asked him: “Our teacher, this far?!” He answered: The Shema teaches us to love God with all our souls (Deuteronomy 6:5), which I understood to mean “even if they are taking your soul.” My entire life I agonized over this verse: Would I really love God even if my soul were being taken? I at last have the opportunity to demonstrate this. How could I not do so now? And as the rabbi recited “the Lord is one” his soul left him.

R. Akiva is counted as one of the “ten martyrs” slain by the Romans – the ten leading Torah giants killed during and shortly after the destruction of the Second Temple. Most of the other scholars, in spite of their greatness, you might not have even heard of if you are not a Talmudic scholar yourself. But not R. Akiva. He was one of us: His story is our story, his life is our life. He began his days simply and humbly as so many of us, yet he grew to become whom we all know we too could be. May his memory be for a blessing.
Published: May 10, 2014