I just wanted to point out 2 powerfully positive developments (H/T Yeranen Yaakov):
​
Ben Gurion Airport to Shut Down for Yom Kippur

For the First Time, Kinneret Beaches to be Closed for Yom Kippur

These are steps in the right direction.

​Eretz Yisrael is spiritually sensitive and cannot tolerate desecration, which is why she is described as a Land that can vomit out her inhabitants.

Particularly with the shut-down of a major airport, I'd think that the logistics of doing so are quite complex. 

And of course, there are those who rage against these advances (although the beaches were also closed for Memorial Day and that was fine with these same inconsistent protesters). 

But the truth is that observing halacha ultimately saves lives and only brings blessing in the end, especially when mesirut nefesh is involved.

This is a big zechut for Am Yisrael and may it only increase.

Kol hakavod to all those involved.

May everyone have an easy fast and may we all merit to do complete teshuvah & have our teshuvah accepted by Hashem.

After everyone came from Morocco to Eretz Yisrael, my mother-in-law's widowed mother resided in an apartment in Afula to be near her son and his family.

My mother-in-law, her brother and his wife all took turns caring for the pious elderly lady.

For example, she was strict not to utter one word before netilat yadayim in the morning. Even when she had something urgent to say, she held back until her hands were washed.

Once, she woke up agitated and gestured for my mother-in-law (whose turn it was to care for her in the Afula apartment) to quickly prepare the netilat yadayim because she had something urgent to say.

My mother-in-law washed her hands, then her elderly mother said, "Your mother-in-law just passed away."

My husband's paternal grandmother had been living with my mother-in-law and father-in-law since their marriage (because the paternal grandmother's own husband had passed away a few months before their marriage -- actually, they'd been living with her; it the home of the paternal grandparents home that my mother-in-law moved into after the wedding).

"What?" said my mother-in-law. "How do you know?"

"I was just told in a dream," her elderly mother answered.

And my mother-in-law soon discovered that it was true. My husband's paternal grandmother had passed away early that morning.

Family lore has it that my mother-in-law's parents had been so wealthy that her mother never wore the same dress twice. I don't know if that is literally true. (It could be that she was in robes much of the time and only wore an actual dress for going out. Because otherwise, how you could you have hundreds of dresses you only wear once?)

But after wearing a dress once, she gave it away to the other women in the area. In this way, even the poorest woman from the most struggling family was always beautifully dressed.

But after a profound trauma caused by the Yishmaelites that killed her husband, the double-trauma of sudden widowhood preceded by the initial trauma thrust her into a deep depression. Amid the chaos and confusion, the the family lost all their money. My mother-in-law was only 6 and pulled out of school, never to return and receive an education. ​Her older brothers were sent to family in Algeria.

But back to the apartment in Afula...

One day, my mother-in-law noticed her mother staring out the widow and frowning. Then her mother called to her and asked my mother-in-law to quickly prepare 6 tomato-and-margarine sandwiches.

(That was all they had back then in Israel's immigrant neighborhoods in the early 1970s. My husband took such sandwiches to school every day. Butter and even the current staple of spreadable white cheese on bread was too expensive for the average immigrant in those times.) 

"Now take the sandwiches down to that Arab sweeping the streets," her elderly mother said.

Perplexed yet dutiful, my mother-in-law did so. The Arab streetsweeper responded with joyful surprise and heartfelt thanks, then my mother-in-law went back upstairs to her mother.

When my mother-in-law asked her mother why she needed to do that, her mother answered, "Don't you know that I always keep a lookout for signs of hunger in any living creature? And if I see they're hungry, I feed them. And when I give them food, I always pray that Hashem should behave with my descendants in the same way: Just as I show compassion and feed all who are hungry, so too should the Creator make sure that my descendants are never hungry."

In Morocco, if she passed by even a donkey that looked hungry, she would feed it.

I must admit that sometimes I entertain myself by trying to imagine this extremely refined beautifully dressed pious Jewish lady standing on a dusty road in Tafilalet and putting food in the mouth of a snappish, grumpy donkey. (Don't they bite? Aren't they kind of bad-tempered?) 

Anyway, this is clearly the ideal grandmother. Talk about looking out for your offspring!

Moreover, her method seems to have worked.

Looking at our own family and the offspring of her other sons and my mother-in-law, even if people aren't rich, they also don't suffer any serious lack. In fact, one of my husband's sisters married someone whose family had won the lottery and there are other grandchildren and great-grandchildren who are doing quite well financially.

Her natural Jewish concern for others, whether it was making sure the women in her area felt good about themselves by providing them with beautiful clothing, an act which prevented envy and ensured that even the poorest & most nebbuchy woman still looked beautiful for her husband or actively seeking out signs of hunger in all Hashem's creations in order to nourish them, this woman embodied a good Jewish heart.

(Also, I must commend her that in sharing her own clothing with everyone, it meant that she never stood out as the best-dressed because everyone was dressed like her, which shows an admirable resistence to showing-off.)

My mother-in-law's mother was tried with both the nisayon of wealth and the nisayon of financial struggle, and she dealt with both admirably by holding on to her empathy and compassion no matter what.

When we first got married, my Moroccan-Israeli husband and I traveled around Eretz Yisrael, meeting his family in different places.

In Haifa, we visited one of his cousins, the daughter of his father's sister, who was around 25 years older than my husband. She lived in an upper class apartment and looked secular. Impressed by her sweet and intelligent manner, I liked her right away.

As we sat down at the table in a kitchen filled with gentle sunlight, her teenage son swept in just then, wearing a leather jacket and holding a motorcycle helmet.

She invited him to join us, which he did. He greeted us very politely, then kept his head down the rest of the time. He behaved toward his mother with deference as she served him his hot lunch.

I was surprised to see a modern youth with longish hair and a black T-shirt behave in such a refined and respectful manner, which made me like him and his mother even more.

When she wanted to serve us fruit, my husband good-naturedly inquired whether it had undergone maaser (tithing). (This is an issue in Eretz Yisrael, where you can't even partake of something neutral like an apple or a cucumber without checking for maaser, which is why fruits and veggies need kosher certification in Eretz Yisrael.)

"No," she said, looking interested. "What is that?"

My husband pleasantly explained to her, then offered to do it for her, showing her and explaining along the way.

"Yes, yes!" she said. "Come and teach us about this!"

Relaxed and smiling, my husband got up and stood in front of her counter with a knife and a coin, and explained the process as he performed it while she looked on and asked questions.

Then they returned to sit at the table.

Her son kept his head down the whole time and only spoke to thank his mother for the food or to answer friendly questions from my husband.

It was only later that I realized that the young man understood that one shouldn't look at religious women (actually, they shouldn't look at any woman unless he's married to her or was born from her), and that's why he kept his head down the whole time.

Wow.

During the conversation, she mentioned that her and my husband's grandmother had been careful about modesty and refined dress.

"Her own daughters never saw her hair," she stated.

That sobered me as I looked at this refined woman with curly hennaed hair down to her shoulders, wearing jeans and a short-sleeved shirt.

You see this kind of thing a lot in Eretz Yisrael. There are so many Jews with good Jewish hearts, running the gamut from secular to religious.

​When you talk to them about mitzvot or Torah, they're into it. They care. Many feel reverence when going to shul or visiting the Kotel. And my husband's cousin obviously knew how to be mechanech her children in the old-fashioned Jewish way. Despite her son's biker appearance, he behaved like the quintessential good Jewish boy.

But all sorts of other influences got and continue to get in the way.

People have different reasons for having abandoned many mitzvot and for not returning. It depends.

But that good Jewish heart and soul's desire to connect to Torah and mitzvot is there underneath, waiting for the heart to be awakened.

May our hearts all awaken to fulfill our purest soul-yearning.

What if I told you a whole range of exotic mitzvot is now available for Jews around the world to perform?

Sounds crazy? Of course! What could it be that we've been missing?

But this is exactly the idea behind the foundation of Kinyan Eretz Yisrael, an organization dedicated to enabling Jews to perform the Mitzvot of the Land of Yisrael.

Founded about 14 years ago by rabbis expert in the Halachot of Agriculture, Kinyan Eretz Yisrael mediates sales of plots of dalet-amot and acts as shluchim so that buyers can now be credited with what was previously the exclusive domain of farmers.

We are here talking about no less than 28 Mitzvot which are now available to Jews without leaving home.

Anyone wishing to acquire a parcel of land from these two farms can go to Kinyan Eretz Yisrael's website, fill the form, and purchase. From this point onward, the buyer will have enough halachic ownership in order to be halachically credited with these Mitzvot!

This means that the buyer can go to the field during harvest time, usually around Tammuz, and perform the Mitzvot himself. The team of Kinyan Eretz Yisrael's rabbis go to the fields every year during one week so that everyone can join in and perform these Mitzvot by themselves.

In case someone can't participate in the ceremony, the rabbis will perform the Mitzvot as agents and all the produce will be promptly donated to poor Jewish families.

​Rabbi Meir Leibowitz, the founder of the initiative started Kinyan Ha'aretz (the old name) by buying two farms, one in Moshav Mazkeret Batya, where they grow wheat and one in Zichron Yaakov, for the cultivation of grapes.

As it turns out, Kinyan Eretz Yisrael received Haskamot from great names such as HaRav Yosef Shalom Elyashiv ZT"L, HaRav Aharon Yehuda Leib Shteinman ZT"L, HaRav Chaim Kanievsky Shlita, HaRav Shmuel Kamenetsky Shlita, HaRav Yehuda Ades Shlita, the Admor of Belz Shlita, and many others.

Urged by the gedolim, Rabbi Meir has been reaching out to English-speaking communities abroad and the responses have been way better than he expected. 

But the idea behind Kinyan Eretz Yisrael is not really new.

​It's known that almost three hundred years ago, none less than the Vilna Gaon participated in such an enterprise with his disciples who made Aliyah. The practice was discontinued, but now our generation is gifted with the modern version, easily attainable by anyone interested.

As Rosh Hashanah approaches, this is an opportune time to accrue extra merit in Shamayim. May we all be found zocheh in Hashem's eyes and be inscribed in the Book of Life!

“From here we learn that whoever purchases four amos in Eretz Yisroel is guaranteed a portion in the World to Come” (Midrash Zuta, Koheles 7)

We, the undersigned Jewish bloggers, hereby protest – in the strongest terms possible – the parading and glorification of an “alternative lifestyle”, one that is classified in the Holy Torah as an abomination, especially through the streets of the holy city of Jerusalem. 
 
The Torah demands that we live by a certain code of sexual morality, and as such, we are forbidden from certain relationships that a moral society cannot tolerate.  These include incest, adultery, bestiality, and homosexuality.  All these are considered grave sins in Judaism and incur the punishment of Karet, or excision from the Jewish people.  An act performed with witnesses during the time of the Sanhedrin would incur an even worse consequence – namely, capital punishment. 
 
And this is only on an individual level.  When the sin is committed on a societal level, it is much worse.  The Torah and our sages record how these acts were catalysts for both the Great Flood during Noah’s lifetime and the destruction of the Five Cities of the Plain.
 
As such, we consider any attempt to glorify acts that the Torah vehemently forbids by parading any such lifestyle through the streets with horror and utter disdain.  Such parades in New York and San Francisco would be bad enough, but through the streets of the Holy Land of Israel is a thousand-fold worse.  The Torah specifically warns us not to act in sexually abominable ways lest we be vomited out of the land.  One can only imagine how it is viewed in Heaven when people brazenly display to G-d how abominable one can be.  And if the Land of Israel cannot tolerate such acts of utter gall, all the more so in the holy city of Jerusalem, a city that is overwhelmingly religious. 
 
We in no way wish to minimize the struggles in temptation some may have in this area and view with positivity those who have such inclinations and bravely overcome them.  But those are not the people irreverently parading through the streets with rainbow flags, who show utter contempt for the Holy Torah and all we hold dear.
 
We therefore vehemently protest the “Pride” Parade in Jerusalem and everywhere else in the world where they may occur.  We hope and pray that those who take part in such parades do a complete Teshuva for their actions, and may we see a rebuilt Jerusalem, speedily in our days, Amen.
 
Signed,
(in alphabetical order)

Alizah from Alizah Teitelbaum
 
CDG from Hava HaAharona
 
Cosmic X from Cosmic X in Jerusalem
 
Dassie from Myrtle Rising
 
Devash from Tomer Devorah
 
Dov Bar Leib from End of Days
 
DS from Israel Truth Times
 
Goldie ZP from Geula613

אורנה ניצבת from Orna Nitzevet
 
Rabbi Lazer Brody from Lazer Beams
 
Yaak from Yeranen Yaakov
 
Yakov Butterfield from Jerusalem Cats: Jerusalem is not San Francisco

Yechezkel Hirshman from Achas L'Maala V'Sheva L'Matta

Yehudi Yerushalmi from Yehudi Yerushalmi

The other day, I met a woman from an established frum community outside of Israel.
 
She had many close family members living in Eretz Yisrael whom she visited often.
 
But she herself wasn’t willing to make aliyah, though she hesitated to come right out and say it. She knew she didn’t have compelling reasons to stay where she was, but at the same time, she couldn’t help how she felt.

(Note: This isn't true of everyone. Some people do have compelling reasons to stay.)

The truth is, within established frum communities outside of Eretz Yisrael, it’s very easy to feel comfortable as a totally frum Jew.
 
On a purely material level, you have everything you’d ever need to provide the most pleasurable oneg Shabbat possible:

• any kind of food available with one of the only hechshers you eat
• the most beautiful and high-quality modest clothes
• 5-star hotels that cater to your every kashrut, Shabbat, and Pesach halachic requirement
• fancy restaurants & catering that feature gourmet and even exotic food sporting the most exacting hechshers
• luxury homes just a walk away from your family’s shul and your best friends
• schools to suit every kind of child and offering the best Jewish education has to offer
• stores and bakeries that cater to even the most exquisite tastes at any price and under any hechsher you need

 
And yes, I realize that not every frum Jew living outside of Eretz Yisrael is lounging in the lap of luxury.

In fact, when I lived in the US, I met a lot of frum people struggling financially and obviously miserable about it. The idea that frum Jews can't give up their fancy hi-tech kitchens is a misnomer for many of them.

A lot of people are struggling. A lot of people feel like they’re struggling just to keep their head above water in America, and that aliyah will plunge them underneath the waves and hold them down where they can’t even breathe.
 
But there is this not-insignificant group of frum Jews for whom the frumkeit outside of Eretz Yisrael is just too uncomfortable.

Not just the material aspects (smaller home, etc.), but the actual frumkeit.
 
“I get my chicken fresh from my butcher,” she explained. “I get exactly the chicken I want and he cuts it just like I like. But I look at the frozen chicken in the Israeli supermarkets and I’m like…” She wrinkled her nose and smiled apologetically. “It’s just not the same.”
 
Note: You can also get fresh chicken cut just like you like from a kosher butcher in some places in Eretz Yisrael. But where she was visiting, you couldn’t.
 
And I know that there are communities outside of Eretz Yisrael who run themselves into debt for the sake of honoring Shabbos and the chagim.
 
And for the lady above, moving to Eretz Yisrael may mean that her oneg Shabbat will go down a bit. Depending on where she would live and her finances after aliyah, she may have to settle for a less succulent chicken l’chvod Shabbat, among many other diminishments.

For some people, the actual frumkeit part of life shines a bit dimmer in Eretz Yisrael.

And maybe that’s kind of depressing.

And I didn’t know what to tell her.
 
Because you see, I can’t judge.

I grew up secular in a predominantly non-Jewish area in America and for me, Eretz Yisrael means quiet empty (or quieter & emptier) streets on Shabbat.

It means frum (or at least Jewish) neighbors you can exchange edible goodies with. It means that my holidays are celebrated right down to the cheerful Chag Sameach! illuminated digitally from the crown of the public buses.

It means that even the most assimilated Jewish teenager has at least heard of Shavuot, even if they only think it’s a “harvester’s holiday” during which you eat cheesecake.
 
Where I lived, modest clothes were a frustration to seek out. Finding modest Shabbat clothes that weren’t dry-clean only was nearly impossible.
 
In America, I felt like I was an outsider wherever I went.
 
But in Eretz Yisrael, whether I’m at the mall or the supermarket or the pizza shop or the hardware store, I’m among family.

Asking, “Which one is the best jam for making sufanganiot?” or “Does this fan have a Shabbat setting?” are questions I can ask and have been asked by both fellow customers and store employees—even those who don’t look frum.
 
In fact, I remember one heart-warming moment when the long-haired leather-wearing kippah-less delivery boy came with some food I’d ordered. It was pareve food, but it originated from a dairy restaurant.
 
I asked the young man about whether the restaurant featured a fully separate pareve section which would make this food wholly pareve.

Under his nose rings, he explained with cheerful meticulousness that while this food was technically pareve, it was prepared within a dairy environment, “making it b’chezkat chalav,” he enunciated. “So since it is b’chezkat chalav, it’s recommended according to halacha, to treat it as if it’s dairy and not eat anything meat with it.” He then waited with a reassuring grin to make sure I understood and was on his way.
 
Of course, I suppose you can also experience something like the above if you live in one of those established frum neighborhoods outside of Eretz Yisrael.
 
But the point here is that I didn’t live in one of those, nor did I want to.

So for me, living in Eretz Yisrael is an ongoing thrill simply because of the religious convenience.

I feel spoiled and pampered, religiously speaking.
 
And for me, this makes up for the serious lowering of material standards and inconveniences one usually faces when settling in Eretz Yisrael.
 
Heck, I even like a lot of the cultural aspects of living here.

There was (and is) a lot I didn’t like about living in America.

I also came to Eretz Yisrael just out of my teens. Coming young makes things a lot easier than coming in your thirties with a nice train of children.
 
Then I married an Israeli. And boy, that sure eases a lot of things too. He knows Hebrew fluently, for one.
 
But what if things hadn’t been like that for me? And what if my personality was different?
 
What if I didn’t like Israeli culture and I was completely comfortable in American culture?

What if I’d grown up in a thriving frum environment in the US with the answer to every religious convention and convenience at my fingertips and custom-made to the highest religious and material standards?
 
The fact that I’m happy here and even when I haven’t been happy here, would never leave because no matter what, I just was never able to be happy in America, whether I was secular or religious…that’s mazal.
 
That’s not me. What if I was happy in America? What if I actually missed chutz l’Aretz?

(But for the sake of full disclosure: Initially, there were aspects of America I missed that I no longer miss. But even during the initial transition, I didn't miss the USA overall, just certain aspects of it. And sometimes, the yearning for a specific aspect of American life was incredibly strong.)
 
If I feel the way I do, then it’s mazal. I didn’t do it. It’s something to be grateful for.

It’s a totally unearned gift.
 
So what right do I have to tell others to make aliyah too when I'm not sure if I'd have been able to do had not the factors lined up right for me?
 
Should Jews make aliyah? Yes, if at all possible. Halachically speaking, they should at least make an effort, or at the very least, pray for it to happen.
 
But I always feel like a bit of a hypocrite telling others to come (even though I think everyone should if at all possible).
 
How can I tell them to do something that might make them miserable for the rest of their lives?

(And I’ve met many dissatisfied unhappy frum Jews living their lives in Eretz Yisrael who constantly harp on how much better it is in America.)
 
After all, my reasons for coming were purely emotional.

I loved the life here. I hated the life there.

And I still do.
 
But what if I didn’t? I honestly don’t think I would come.
 
Oh, sure. There are very real problems for Jews in chutz l’Aretz; England and Europe are already finished as far as I can tell.
 
But it’s not like there aren’t diseases, car accidents, terror attacks, actual missiles, and even intermarriage here, may Hashem have mercy.
 
Furthermore, some Jews outside of Eretz Yisrael will survive the coming Geula and some Jews within Eretz Yisrael won’t.
 
So what do I say without being an ungrateful hypocrite?

I feel very, very grateful to be here and to be happy about it.

And that's not from me; it's only from Hashem.
________
ADDENDUM TO THIS POST:
Rav Eliezer Papo, author of the Pele Yoetz, composed a prayer for those who wish to come to Eretz Yisrael:
A Prayer to Make Aliyah & Live in Eretz Yisrael

A century ago, one of the charedi leaders of yore (maybe it was Rav Shmuel Salant?) was heard talking to a group of Syrian chachamim (sages) in Hebrew using their Sefardi pronunciation.

Why was this a big deal?

In 1913, what later became known as "The Language War" began when the Haifa Institute of Technology decided to adopt German as their official language of instruction. (I know, I know...)

Later, it turned to a tug-of-war between Yiddish and Hebrew. Assimilated Jewish linguists insisted on secularizing the holy Hebrew language and instill it as the official language of Eretz Yisrael.

Others objected the secularization of the holy tongue, along with the unsavory political agenda behind it.

Some also felt that using Hebrew for mundane talk or in places like the bathroom profaned the holy tongue. (They weren't wrong. My kids happily chattered away in Hebrew in the bathtub and Hebrew is the language in Israeli discotheques, smutty movies, and coarse stand-up routines.)

So why did a great rav who came firmly down on the side of the pro-Yiddish camp, a sage known for his courtesy toward others, yet who when addressed in Hebrew by someone with an agenda, refused to answer in any language -- why did he turn around and all of the sudden start not only speaking in Hebrew, but speaking with a totally different and unfamiliar pronunciation (when he was strict about using Ashkenazi pronunciation in his prayers)?

As the rav explained, the Sefardi chachamim spoke classical Hebrew, the beautiful Hebrew of the commentators and ancient Sages. They spoke that language as their mother tongue and according to their traditional pronunciation.

He also spoke Sefardi-accented Hebrew with regular non-Yiddish-speaking Sefardim.

The pro-Yiddish rav spoke to them in kind because they couldn't know Yiddish (so that was a practical reason) and because the whole language divide wasn't about language, but about politics, "isms," and an anti-Torah agenda, all of which had nothing to do with the Sefardi community.

Yet when Hebrew could be spoken as a need by people who really knew how to use the language, the rav happily spoke Hebrew and spoke it using the pronunciation best understood by his fellow Sefardi Jews.

The great leader of what became known as the charedi stream of Orthodox Judaism, and a tremendous tzaddik, Rav Yosef Chaim Sonnenfeld, sided with the pro-Yiddish side due to the assimilationist agenda behind the leaders of pro-Hebrew side.

Yet in response to a British government survey which asked what language was spoken by the respondent, Rav Sonnenfeld not only answered "Hebrew," but advised others to answer the same--even though Rav Sonnenfeld's conversational language was indeed Yiddish.

When some of the pro-Yiddish camp objected, Rav Sonnenfeld replied, "What can I do? When I speak to God, I speak only in Hebrew--how can I deny that?!"

Obviously, Rav Sonnenfeld considered his main language to be the one in which he spoke to his Creator.

At one point, Rav Sonnefeld mused that it was perhaps a mistake for the religious community NOT to have adopted Hebrew immediately upon arrival in Eretz Yisrael. "By doing so, we would've pre-empted the irreligious camp...We would have then not been forced into taking a negative stand against Hebrew being the official language."

But these things are hard to predict.

Anyway, what I learned from all this was:

• Don't get caught up in the technicalities of a gadol's opinion; understand the real motivation behind the opinion.
• A gadol is coming from a place of love and not a place of fanaticism with getting all yipped-up on misplaced zealotry.
• Communicate in the language OTHERS understand best (this goes beyond mere language choice, BTW)
• The goal is to meet the other as far as you can, and not assert yourself over the your fellow.

Figuring out how to do this with each situation can take a bit of trial and error, but as long as we're trying, then that's really good.
___________

*Quotes were taken from pages 322-323 of Guardian of Jerusalem: The Life and Times of Rabbi Yosef Chaim Sonnenfeld.
Related links:
The Only "ism" You'll Ever Need
What is the Heart's Nusach?

There are extraordinary amounts of rain pouring down in Eretz Yisrael, completely out of character for this time of year.

(Although right now, it's looking pretty sunny all of the sudden.)

And there have been destruction and tragedies as a result, may all those who've suffered be comforted among all the mourners of Yisrael.

But the rain also has a message.

Rain can both bring life and take life, as we've sadly seen.

And in Perek Shirah, the rain sings the following song from Tehillim/Psalms 68:10--

Regarding this verse, Radak comments that because the preceding verse mentions "dripping heavens" as an allusion to tribulations, this verse needs to emphasize that now, the rain pouring down is the opposite of the oppressively "dripping heavens" -- this is rain of manifold munificence, and it's pouring down upon Yisrael.

The word translated as "Your heritage" or "Your inheritance" (nachalatcha) alludes to the Jewish people, who are the inheritance of Hashem.

He explains the rest of the verse as:

"Fortify it" -- fortify Your inheritance. You shall fortify Yisrael, the Jewish people.

Even if the enemy has already gotten a few victories under his belt and you're totally exhausted, don't give up. God will fortify you so that you won't give up on what's most important.

Both Rashi and Malbim also describe this verse as comforting and encouraging.

Am Yisrael is in a desert where it doesn't rain, according to its innate nature. Yet when the people are weary and thirsty, Hashem not only sends them rain, but sends them an abundance of rain, "rains of generosity and blessing," says Rashi. "Like cool water on a depleted soul," says Malbim.

Literally, this verse refers to Am Yisrael during its time in the desert before the first Shavuot, before the Torah was given on Har Sinai.

But the metaphors are clear (especially if you read the entire Psalm).

The giving of the Torah slaked the soul's thirst and fortified the Jewish Nation.
________
Crazy rain is gushing over Eretz Yisrael right now, rain that isn't supposed to pour down in such amounts at this time of year. And this rain has brought tragedies, may Hashem protect us all.

But this rain also has a message for us.

When we are exhausted and thirsty, surrounded by hostile nations and in a hostile environment, God will send darkness and rain tribulations down on our haters while providing us with generous amounts of refreshing blessing, fortification, and renewed strength.

Hold fast to Yerushalayim (and all that it implies) and never give up.

May we always experience rain as an obvious blessing and never as a tribulation or tragedy.
__________
Related links:
Song of the Rain
Also, there has been an unusual amount of thunder and lightning in Eretz Yisrael.
Song of Lightning

UPDATE: This post was accidentally posted in rough-draft form when it was only one-third finished. Please read on for the entire completed post...
_______

They say that history is written by the winners.

But what if the battle isn't quite over yet?

Then the history is controlled by whoever has the most control.

Growing up, I was taught to be proud of the State of Israel and its army. I was taught that the modern State of Israel was brought about by kibbutznikim and the Haganah. Needless to say, kibbutznikim and many regular (not rabidly anti-Torah Leftist) Jews in the Haganah did indeed fight on behalf of the Jewish people for the State of Israel.

There are even unnamed graves of Jews who survived the Holocaust only to die fighting for the Jewish people after smuggling themselves straight to Israel and not fully recovered from the death camps. They hadn't been in the country or their military unit long enough for anyone to know them and all their family members had been murdered. Consequently, when their lifeless body was found on the battlefield, no one knew exactly who they were. Yet they received an honorable burial and until today, grateful and humbled Jews visit their graves to pay homage to their anonymous sacrifice.

Yet throughout all this, Torah observant Jews never made an appearance.

That's right -- not even the dati-leumi, Religious Zionist Jews.

The settling, rebuilding, battling, and establishment of the Jewish country was portrayed as a completely secular enterprise. Orthodox Jews only made an appearance as pesky interferers but never as contributors.

Yet contrary to the establishment history, Orthodox Jews -- even ultra-Orthodox Jews -- were the first settlers and the first fighters in modern Eretz Yisrael. And they worked and sacrificed despite interference, sabotage, and other forms of discrimination set against them by the anti-religious reps in charge (not to mention the discrimination by the Turks and later the Brits).

Without any relief in sight, these people went up against malnutrition, disease, unimaginable poverty, harsh living conditions, oppression, and Arab attacks -- all to create a Jewish presence in the Land of Israel, fulfill the mitzvah of settling the Land, and pave the way for their fellow Jews suffering from pogroms.

The first Jewish defense force was actually established by the strictly Orthodox students of the Vilna Gaon and the Baal Shem Tov in response to the lack of protection from Turkish authorities. The aliyah of the Vilna Gaon's students took place in 1809, decades before the word "Zionism" was even coined, and an armed Jewish defense force formed shortly after their arrival.

This Jewish Guard even had headquarters (in the Old City of Jerusalem) and was commanded by some of the most outstanding students of the Vilna Gaon along with other rabbinic leaders.

Yes, that's right: The very first weaponized Jewish defenders in Eretz Yisrael were also armed with Gemaras.

(Sorry for the unpleasant shock, Torah-hating Leftists.)

Many members of the Sefardi community also joined with their Ashkenazi brethren to protect their fellow Jews from marauders.

Unfortunately, the brilliant talmid chacham, Rav Yosef Shick was slain in the line of duty. Rav Menachem Mendel of Shklov was also seriously wounded and blinded in one eye.

But you'll probably never hear about them on Yom Hazikaron (or any other time). These kinds of warriors aren't considered part of the "cool" crowd.

The Jewish Guard succeeded in collecting the necessary weapons for self-defense: clubs, knives, pistols, and rifles.

Because two Jewish Guard leaders were both named Shmerel (short for "Shmaryahu") and because the two Shmerels dedicated themselves to making sure every Jewish Guard member owned a pistol, pistols became popularly known as "shmerelach."

In addition to guarding the homes and families, circumstances also forced the Jewish Guard to accompany travelers and stand watch over storehouses of building materials and food.

As Jewish settlement expanded outside the walled city of Jerusalem, new and more dangerous positions needed to be put into place by the Jewish Guard. These men stood guard day and night to protect the innocent Jews, taking a shift of guard duty and then a shift of Torah study throughout this time.

Before he could even make it to Shacharis one morning in 1820, Rav Hillel Rivlin (the head of the Ashkenazi community and the head of the Ashkenazi beit din) received word that a group of newly arrived Jewish immigrants had been kidnapped by Arabs, who demanded the ransom of 1000 gold napoleons.

After consultation between the leaders of the community and the Jewish Guard, they all formed a plan. Pretending to have the ransom in a bag, two Jewish Guard men would set out with the kidnappers' representative.

In the meantime, all the members of the Jewish Guard stole after them along winding routes to near where is now Bnei Brak.

(While all this was going on, the Jerusalem community fasted and prayed for their success.)

At that point, the Jewish Guard launched a surprise attack which freed the prisoners, demolished the camp, and killed the leader along with many other bandits.

Who's the Israeli Superman now, eh?

(You probably have never heard of this stunning Raid on the Outskirts of Bnei Brak. You likely will not hear about it on Yom HaAtzmaut either, nor will a movie ever be made about it. But I am profoundly grateful to Jews like this who first enabled Jewish settlement in Eretz Yisrael, from which I personally benefit today.)

The years 1820-1822 saw the Jews of the Jerusalem area terrorized by ruthless bandits led by their sheik. Via meticulous intelligence-gathering, the Jewish Guard discovered the hideout of the terrorists and launched a surprise assault one night, slaying the chief and putting an end to the terror.

Later in 1873, Bedouin terrorists attacked Jewish homes nearly every night.

Turkish police proved unhelpful.

At a gathering the home of Jerusalem's chief rabbi, Rav Meir Auerbach, another surprise attack was planned.

The night before the attack, Jewish inhabitants filled the synagogues and study halls to recite Tehillim/Psalms and pray for the success of the Jewish Guard.

At midnight, the Jewish Guard launched a 3-prong assault on the hideout in the mountains.

The attack was so unexpected that the stronghold was demolished within 30 minutes with 150 dead on the enemy side.

The Jews no longer suffered from this group.

In the incredible book Rebels in the Holy Land by Sam Finkel, you can meet the strictly Orthodox Yaakov Laskovsky, a "Litvish cowboy" from Russia who settled in Ekron in the 1880s. Whenever he encountered groups of Yishmaeli bandits, he would give chase until he caught them, then beat the living daylights out of them. (He was a one-man anti-terror unit.) Moshe Raab is pictured in the book sporting a full beard, black hat, and an enormous shotgun. Raab was one of the guards who protected Petach Tikvah from Yishmael attacks in the late 1800s.

Much later, the tzaddik of Jerusalem Rabbi Aryeh Levin smuggled dozens (or maybe hundreds) of messages in his coat for the Haganah fighters imprisoned by the British, whom he visited frequently.

In her searing Holocaust memoir, From the Depths I Call, Lea Fuchs-Chayen was a strictly religious teenage survivor who regularly allowed the Jewish Underground to store weapons in her easy chair, despite the risk if she was caught and despite the danger of explosives in her furniture.

And there are many more to tell of, but that's enough for now.

You won't be hearing these stories during the ceremonies, celebrations, programs, and speeches of Yom Hazikaron and Yom HaAtzmaut. Mainstream history books have deleted these courageous and devoted Jews with their pistols and their payos from existence.

But they did exist.

And we in Eretz Yisrael are here today in their merit.

Please remember the first Jewish Guard and all the others.

Just because they were what today would be called ultra-Orthodox doesn't mean their contributions don't count.

They do.

Each year, we end the Pesach Seder with the words:

"L'shanah haba b'Yerushalayim habnuya! -- Next year in the rebuilt city of Jerusalem!"

Furthermore, it has always been a great mitzvah for a Jew to make aliyah and live in Eretz Yisrael if at all possible.

Yet like everything else, this mitzvah needs a lot of prayer.

In fact, a major life-change like this calls for copious heartfelt prayer, whether you feel like you'll never be able to make aliyah or whether you're already on your way. Fortunately, Rabbi Eliezer Papo (author of the Pele Yoetz) wrote a book of prayers for all occasions (called Beit Tefillah) including this prayer for "Diur b'Eretz Hakodesh -- Residing in the Holy Land."

As is usual by tzaddikim, you'll see that in his great love for his fellow Jews, Rav Papo doesn't leave out anyone. Also, while Jews outside of Eretz Yisrael have an obligation to help and support Jews living within Eretz Yisrael, Jews within Eretz Yisrael apparently have a special obligation to pray for their fellow Jews still stuck outside.

We're all in this together!

The following prayer is presented in Hebrew, English transliteration, and English translation:

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V'yehi ratzon milfanecha Hashem Elokai v'Elokai avotai, sheh ta'azor l'Amecha Yisrael u't'zakem sheh yikba'u diratam lishkon kavod ba'Aretz Hakadosha. V'lo yomar adam "Tzar li hamakom sheh eshev ba'Aretz Hakadosha. V'lo yitzarchu latzet mimenah, eleh yeshvu vah kol yamei chayeihem b'kedushah u'v'tahorah, v'sham tahei mitatam, v'sham tahei menuchatam kavod. V'titen ko'ach v'chayil v'ratzon tov l'yoshvei chutz l'Aretz, l'hiyotam ozrim v'tomchim b'yad yoshvei Eretz Yisrael b'gufam u'mamonam, l'man yeshvu sham b'hashket v'shalvah, ovdim avodatcha u'mitpalelim al Amecha.

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May it be Your Will Hashem, my God and the God of my fathers that You will help your Nation of Israel and grant them the merit to permanently fix their abode to reside honorably in the Holy Land. And may no person say, "It's difficult [narrow, too tight] for me, this place I will reside within the Holy Land." And may they not need to leave it, but may they remain within it in holiness and purity all the days of their lives, and there shall be their death and there shall be their resting place of honor. And grant strength and valor and good will to those who dwell outside the Land, to be helpers and supporters in hand with the settlers of Eretz Yisrael, both physically and financially, so that they can dwell there in peace and tranquility, toiling in Your Divine Service and praying for Your Nation.
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To download as a PDF, please press the pretty azure button:

Rav Papo published Pele Yoetz in the Ottoman Empire's Bulgaria in 1824. At that time he wrote of the Jews in Eretz Yisrael (who were also under Turkish Muslim rule):

But regarding the great mitzvah of aliyah, which he encourages if at all feasible (emphasis mine -- MR):

Jews in Eretz Yisrael often feel like we're making the big sacrifice on behalf of world Jewry. But in reality, a move to Eretz Yisrael carries with it a tremendous responsibility:
heartfelt prayer on behalf of our precious brothers and sisters (in addition to raising our own standards of piety and religious commitment).

The lives of the Jews in chutz l'Aretz depend on our "mouths"! We need to buckle down and care about everyone and beg for Hashem's Mercy for EVERYONE.

Rav Papo provides an important list of what Jews in Eretz Yisrael must pray for:

• Each person should pray for his relatives according to his best ability
• Pray for the building of the Beit Hamikdash
• Pray for the Ingathering of the Exiles
• Pray for Hashem to bring the complete Redemption speedily in our days, Amen.

He concludes with: