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My daughter called me from Jerusalem. “You won’t believe what happened.”

“What?”

“I was on my daily walk, without my phone or my watch, just enjoying the fresh air, when suddenly the air-raid sirens sounded. But I wasn’t near my regular bomb shelter!”

She paused and then explained: “A few weeks ago, I was thinking about this exact scenario. What if the sirens go off while I’m out walking? What will I do? And today it happened.”

So what did she do? She ran to the nearest building and sat on the first staircase she could find. She waited there, alone, for six long minutes. The most chilling part? She told me the story like it was a normal, everyday occurrence.

Missiles being fired at civilians. People sprinting for cover. Strangers hiding in stairwells. There’s nothing normal about it! But when it happens day after day, week after week, we adjust. It becomes our normal.

We get used to walking around under threat, and we go about our lives without thinking about it too much. Until something comes along and shakes us out of our fog.

Something like what happened last night, when an antisemite casually walked up to a Jewish event in Washington D.C. and executed two Israelis at point-blank range in cold blood.

This didn’t happen in Tel Aviv or Sderot or even Paris. It was the US capital, Washington, D.C. The country that is supposed to be the safest in the world, with the most powerful army and most capable police force. Here, two Jews, a young couple simply attending an event, were hunted down and killed.

Make no mistake, our enemies are everywhere. Their hatred knows no borders—it’s not limited to Gaza, London, Paris, or Jerusalem. Right outside my own home here in NYC, there’s a “Free Palestine” flag flying!

We’re being battered on all sides, and it’s brutal.

But what can—and should—we actually do?

First and foremost, we remember who we are and respond accordingly. We are proud Jews—proud of our heritage, our history, our lives, and our country.

The world doesn’t need less Judaism. It needs more!

So we don’t hide and cower in fear. We hold our heads high, and walk around openly and proudly declaring our faith.

We fill the world with light. More kindness. More Torah. More mitzvot. More Shabbat. More kosher. More tefillin. More shul. More tzedakah.

This is not a time to shrink or hold back. It’s time to shine, to plant ourselves here and say: We’re not going anywhere! You can’t scare us off. We have a task. G-d wants us to elevate the world and prepare it for Moshiach’s coming. And that’s exactly what we’ll do.

May he come speedily and return all our hostages, bringing true peace to every corner of the world.

Last week, we had a Belev Echad trip to Miami for our wounded soldiers. I flew in for the inspiring event and stayed overnight.

When I boarded the plane the following day, I walked down to row 31 and saw someone sitting in what I believed to be my seat. I asked him to move, and he said no, it was his seat. 

I was surprised, but it turned out he was correct. I always use the same travel agent and he knows my preferences. I hate flying and am quite fidgety, so I always request an aisle seat. Somehow, this time, I’d ended up in a window seat. 

I texted my travel agent. “Why am I not in the aisle?” 

“There was no space on the flight,” he explained. 

“I would rather not fly if I’m not in the aisle.” 

“What’s the issue?” he asked. “Who are you sitting next to?”

Well, sitting next to me was a 2-year-old girl, and next to her, in the aisle seat, was the father. 

I asked the dad, “Do you want to switch with me?”

But like me, he replied, “If I don’t sit on the aisle I don’t get on the plane.” 

So for three hours back to New York, I sat next to this girl who screamed and cried the entire way. Her ears must have been hurting, because she cried extra loudly during take-off and landing. They had come prepared with a million snacks, all of which landed on me. First it was her pretzels, then her chocolate milk, then her potato chips, her Cheerios and apple juice! All over my seat, all over my clothes. 

And she kept kicking, pushing, and shoving into me, stuck as I was in the window seat, like a prisoner, at the mercy of her surprisingly strong fists and legs. 

When I finally got home, I told my wife the story and she told me, “Well, now you know how people feel when we travel with our 8 kids!”

And she’s not wrong. Last Shabbat, our kids were playing in the backyard. Our 7-year-old had a tantrum and one of the neighbors opened his window and yelled out, “Shut up!” Another neighbor screamed, “Go inside!” 

Well, I guess at least now we know how they feel. 

Typically, we love ourselves and don’t see our own faults. Or we see them, but we justify them. When someone else does the same thing, however, it bothers us and we become critical. 

Somehow, I was quick to criticize my neighbors on the airplane, but full of understanding and excuses for my own children. 

We’re currently celebrating the holiday of Lag Baomer, whose overall theme is to love our fellow Jews as we love ourselves. That means overlooking their faults or finding favorable explanations for their behavior, just as we do for ourselves. It means having patience when other people’s children act out, the same way we excuse our own. It doesn’t come naturally, but Lag Baomer reminds us that that is our goal.

This week, I met Arik Shkarov, 43, an IDF soldier who serves in an undercover unit in the motorcycle division of the Israeli police. 

While chasing a terrorist on March 17, 2024, he was run over by a truck. Arik was severely injured, and despite months of surgeries and treatments, his right leg had to be amputated. Even after the amputation, Arik remained in indescribable pain. He tried everything the doctors in Israel had to offer but reached a dead end.

Our Belev Echad team, along with our medical director, met him and recommended surgery in the US. We have worked extensively to forge relationships with the best doctors in NYC who can treat complicated cases like these, and this week, Arik underwent surgery under their care. 

Before the surgery, he called me to his hotel room because he wanted to put on tefillin. He also asked if he could keep the tefillin for the duration of his time in NY, so he would be able to put them on daily.  Of course, I agreed. On the day he was injured, he told me, he had put on tefillin, and he feels it was this act that saved his life. 

With G-d’s help, the procedure will allow Arik to walk with his prosthetic without pain and to live a normal life with his wife and kids.

Needless to say, the amount of work it took to make this happen was tremendous, and the costs staggering. 

But when I met Arik, he was so incredibly thankful. He couldn't find the words to describe his immense gratitude and appreciation for what we had arranged.

I am so grateful to G-d for giving me and my wife the opportunity to establish Belev Echad, and for the merit of being able to alleviate the pain of so many soldiers. Arik is now the 6th soldier to undergo surgery with us after reaching a dead end with medical care in Israel. 

There are another two soldiers here in NYC this week for procedures to alleviate nerve pain that cannot be treated in Israel. Arik, Imri, and Ori—three separate soldiers with three separate stories. They don't even know each other!

I am in awe of our tireless crew. We’ve all worked so hard these last few months to put these procedures in motion. We hired a medical director to help the soldiers navigate it all. Our on-the-ground staff has taken care of every detail. The fundraising efforts were intense.

But seeing how much Arik is looking forward to resuming a regular life without pain made it all worthwhile! 

After all, what price can we put on easing a soldier's pain? A soldier who gave his all for Am Yisrael? A soldier who saved lives? A soldier who gave his leg to protect us? What is the price point? How much would we all be willing to pay if we were in intense pain like this? Surely, it is priceless!

As wonderful as our organization is, my greatest wish is that we will be able to shut down because there will be no more wounded soldiers! In the meantime, I feel fortunate and blessed to be able to help.