Hello to you. Actually, no. There is no hello.
But still, peace to you. Like, I wish you peace.
We need this. Urgent.
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When I sat down to write the column, rumors began to trickle in about a ceasefire that was gradually taking shape.
Of course, the regular ritual of pulling the jokes out of the mothballs began with pictures of Bibi the Rabbit, the cakes without the egg component, and so on and so forth.
Immediately, residents from the south were brought up telling the broadcaster: Let the IDF win, and Iron Dome planners were rushed from the protected areas for hurried interviews about the unlimited power of the system.
And again, God forbid.
I, unlike everyone else, do not want to express an opinion on the ceasefire that did not exist (but since you asked what my opinion is, I will say that I want them to be crushed forever. But that will not happen. So why be disappointed again and again), but rather to highlight a slightly different perspective:
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Leave a truce, surrender, humiliation or knockout victory.
How long can we count on a miracle? How many more days will we be able to count dozens of rockets a day that take off with great fanfare and land with a faint silence? How many more rights will we have to erase while our good guys stand outside during an alarm, trying to capture yet another blurry photo of a smoke plume, and be the first to upload it to the WhatsApp group?
Who knows if God takes all the unity and prayers that were here after the kidnapping and takes a drop from the enormous reservoir that accumulated then, after every fall near a gas reservoir or between two buildings or a fall when the warhead does not explode, even though a few dozen centimeters below it lies a huge fuel reservoir?!
How many more times will we hear about a massive barrage of 20 rockets, the end of which will be decided by whom?
We got used to it. We got used to hearing the alarms, the booms of the Iron Dome, the dry reports of "interceptions and landings in open areas" - and immediately the flood of photos of the shrapnel and of happy citizens holding part of an interceptor missile or rocket.
And when it becomes a habit, why not continue? It's actually fun.
I think we need to pray even harder that the good God in heaven will end this cycle as quickly as possible. Not by an angel, not by a serpent, but by God. He has enough ways to end the cycle.
That Sisi will lose his head and wash them away. That Hayat will accidentally press the self-destruct button. That the guard at Hamas's explosives depot will smoke and his cigarette butt will fall on the depot. Oh well. There are enough "just in case" that can be arranged.
The Book of Esther is one of those "coincidences" and we all celebrate the successful conclusion every year.
As far as I'm concerned, even if God sends the IDF by air, sea, and land, they will claim that they created this force.
May everyone be healthy. May it be over already. May our rights be preserved before the Lord of all to hasten the coming of our righteous Messiah.
What do you think?
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And a final point:
Last Friday, God showed me that if He wants, even a broom will shoot.
And the deed that happened was this:
At 11:30, I received a call from a United Hatzalah volunteer who was recruited by Order 8 to the Home Front Command and was stationed in my city of residence, along with 180 other soldiers.
Unfortunately, the IDF rationed those soldiers with rolls with spreads and water in personal bottles for their sustenance. No wine or challah. No cholent or kegel.
A good friend of mine, the owner of a grocery chain in the city, volunteered immediately and without questions, donating dozens of bottles of Coke and candy, and even asked me to get a caterer to prepare giant pots of cholent for them, to make the approaching Shabbat more enjoyable.
But what? Because of the late hour, no caterer agreed to prepare such a filet. Neither for a donation nor for a fee.
In a lightning-fast move, the owner of the grocery store donated all the products to us to prepare the project, the Ezer Mitzion organization opened its institutional kitchen, and I sat down with another friend to peel, fry, and prepare two pots of cholent.
Oh my. The last time I made cholent was 10 years ago. And even then it was for 3 people.
I stood in front of two huge pots, filled with potatoes, legumes, and fine beef, and I had no idea how much or how to season.
I opened the bags of spices and the kilo of salt I bought and said directly to God: Right now it's in your hands. Soldiers who eat from these pots will be granted a great Kiddush, or God forbid... I don't know how to make cholent. It's in your hands.
And I spilled. And I poured again. And that's it.
I went to take a shower on Saturday.
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On Saturday night, the battalion commander called and said I could come and get the pots. There was no need to clean them, he said. They ate every last grain and also wiped them with challah.
And this is further proof that if God wants, even an idiot can make cholent or that the IDF can defeat Hamas. For him, it's the same thing.
You just have to ask.
So if you're walking around or happen to be in the city of Rehovot, go to one of the branches of the 'Super Tov and Hametiv' chain. If you shop there, you'll cover a small fraction of the huge donation the owner made to IDF soldiers.
Again, hello everyone.
Yours, Micah Sholem.
And here are the pictures:
