The evening before Rosh Hashana, I was walking in our Jerusalem neighborhood, enjoying the crisp air while chatting on the phone with my sister in Pittsburgh. Suddenly, my phone began to buzz with a security alert, “Enter a shelter immediately,” and piercing sirens followed soon after.
I noticed a Sephardic shul nearby and quickly entered. This was the first time in the 16 years that we have been living in Israel, over the course of several wars, that I found myself seeking shelter while outdoors in an unfamiliar place. I followed the stream of people into the synagogue’s basement, where we scrambled into a modest-sized bomb shelter that included an Aron and sefarim.
Within moments, the room filled with passersby who had been walking outside or shopping at the nearby grocery store. There were about 30 of us in total, a crowd as diverse as the nation of Israel. There were small children and seniors, women and men, Russian, English, and Hebrew speakers, locals and tourists, and Sephardic and Ashkenazic Jews of every level of observance.
One member of the Sephardic shul called out with fervor, “Brothers and sisters, as we stand together so close to Rosh Hashana, let’s accept upon ourselves G-d’s Kingship as one.” In a powerful singsong voice, he proclaimed, “Shema Yisrael, Hashem Elokeinu, Hashem Echad!”
The mixed gathering of Jews chanted this age-old prayer together with him, our voices in sync, our hearts pulsating as one. The Shema prayer was followed by the repetition of the verse, “Hashem Hu Ha’Elokim,” Hashem, He is G-d, which is usually reserved for the crescendo and conclusion of Yom Kippur, proclaiming G-d’s presence both in the natural and miraculous parts of life.
We then recited several chapters of Tehillim together, led by our inspiring new friend, which continued into heartfelt songs of faith and joy. “Anachnu ma’aminim b’nei ma’aminim” – We are believers, the sons of believers, was one of the uplifting melodies, and was accompanied by spontaneous dancing.
We could hear the muted sound of sirens and explosions above us. Israel was clearly under attack, but I felt comforted and protected in this spiritual cocoon of unity and prayer. A teenage girl who was dressed in jeans was shaking with fear, and she fell into my arms. As I hugged her and offered words of comfort, she asked me to help her recite Tehillim 121, which speaks of turning our eyes heavenwards for G-d’s salvation.
My experience in this intimate bomb shelter was less than an hour long, as we waited for the succession of sirens and the intense missile attack from Iran to abate. Thank G-d, the nation of Israel experienced a tremendous miracle, and not even one Jew was harmed by the more than180 ballistic missiles showered upon our tiny land.
As we ushered in Rosh Hashana, with a tenuous peace and quiet following the tumultuous evening before, I thanked Hashem. Not only for the awe-inspiring miracle of His loving protection in the face of the overwhelming danger and threat we had just faced. I thanked Hashem for the surreal experience I had had in the bomb shelter of a Sephardic shul in Jerusalem, where I was reminded of who we are as a people and the unparalleled, invincible spirit of our nation.
A few days later, at the conclusion of the awesome day of Yom Kippur, when everyone called out Shema Yisrael in unison at the climax of the Ne’ilah prayer in shul, I was taken back to those inspiring moments that I spent in the bomb shelter on erev Rosh Hashana. The unforgettable Shema prayer that I shared with 30 strangers, who quickly felt like family, reverberated in my heart and mind.
It remains etched there forever, awaiting the day when this taste of deep unity and connection will include every single one of us recognizing and calling out in sync, “Hashem is our G-d, Hashem is One,” with true peace and the final redemption.
Despite the painful reality of the current war, initiated and fueled by our hateful enemies, I feel hope and optimism. Although the external threats still exist, the Jewish people have dramatically matured and metamorphosed over this past year. The flame of Jewish faith is burning stronger than ever in Israel and in the Diaspora, with a renewal of Jewish observance recorded at college campuses and Chabad houses across the globe. Countless IDF soldiers have begun to don tzitzit and tefillin, demonstrating their pure faith and commitment to G-d on the battlefields and in their bunkers. The unity and acts of unconditional love amongst Am Yisrael have reached unprecedented heights, and there is an acute sense of brotherhood amongst us.
In the merit of our spiritual awakening and efforts to unite, may this year’s Simchat Torah be one of true joy and celebration with the long-awaited geulah. As I heard the popular singer Avraham Fried quip at a concert, “Dear G-d, you owe us a dance!”
