Mar 18, '26
To the courageous women of Amida Army,
Day in and day out, for almost 900 days, you have stood up with strength and davened. For the hostages, for the soldiers, for the families affected by this long long war. There is no way for us to truly know how much your prayers have helped, how your tefillos pierced the heavens to protect our soldiers and our hostages. But our hostages are all home and for the first time in over a decade there are no Israelies being held hostage in Gaza. We can write books of miracles that our soldiers have experienced. Then you stood up again, in an emotionally connected way that only the women of Am Yisrael can feel, and opened your hearts a little more. You donated so that miluim wives can have a break, a rest, a recharge, before Pesach. A massage, a manicure, a pedicure, a nice breakfast. Something to pamper themselves after hundreds of days of solo parenting.
I have Baruch Hashem been in the position to be a middle-person between Jews around the world and miluim families in Israel. I have been able to gift families with toys, dinners, babysitting help, cleaning help, date nights and more. It has been rewarding and special and has allowed me to see so much beauty in Am Yisrael. I have been touched by so many stories and situations, but none touched home like the one I am about to share.
Last year Motzei Pesach, our backyard neighbors suffered a terrible loss. One of their sons-in-law, Binyamin suffered a heart attack and passed away. Binyamin was a career officer, meaning he was serving consistently since October 7th, and the heart attack was triggered from the over exertion of war. Binaymin was one of 5 brothers-in-laws serving in the army, along with his father-in-law, Rav Nir. Binyamin left behind his wife Shir, and his two small daughters, Carmel and Amit. Amit was only 7 weeks old at the time. At the shiva, all we kept hearing was about how deep and real the love and connection between Binyamin and Shir was. Shir’s family swooped in and enveloped her with love and support. Her parents built a small apartment off the back of their house so she could raise her girls surrounded by family and love. But every time my daugher plays with her friend Carmel, every chag, and every family event their family has, my heart breaks a little more for Shir.
As I was going through Amida Army donations and deciding how to allocate them, I decided to use one of the donations to buy a gift card for Shir to a local jewelry store, so she could buy herself something for Pesach. As I purchased the gift card I found myself getting extremely emotional. Shir is coming up to her husband’s first yarzheit. A full year of raising her girls alone and figuring out her new reality, trying to heal from a loss the seems almost too large to close. And here I was, with money from women an ocean away, buying her a gift to let her know she is not alone. There is an army full of women who davened for her husband when he was fighting, who are thinking about her now, and are finding ways to connect and show their love. No matter what happens in the future, Shir, Carmel, and Amit are not alone. The ranks of Amidah Army are supporting them.
Ahuva (Neriah)
Jan 18, '26
There have been so many moments since 10/7 that I have learned to hold space for contradicting emotions: joy and sorrow; relief and apprehension; hope and despondency.
On Friday, this duality hit me again. A mazel tov against a backdrop of loss. A new life within the first year of a death. A child entering the world without his father there to embrace him, to circumcise him, to name him.
Mevaser Tov was born ten days ago and had his bris this past Friday. His father, Yosef Yehuda HY"D, was murdered about 8 months ago - one day after his wife informed him that she was expecting their first child. They had only been married for 7 months.
Mevaser Tov will never be embraced by his father until תחית המתים. His father will never swaddle him in his strong arms; his father will not cheer him on as he takes his first step; his father will not teach him Aleph beis. It is a huge mazel tov - a living continuation of his father's mesora, of his life- but simultaneously, the grief is overwhelming.
I was recently speaking to a friend, Rivkah, whose husband is a reservist and has many friends who have been serving in this war. Rivkah shared, "My nieces and nephews live in a place (Neriah) where unfortunately many soldiers who have been killed have lived. My niece and nephew were discussing- is it better to be older and lose a father, G-d forbid, but have memories with him OR to be orphaned really young so one is "less" impacted but lacks memories of his father?"
Children should not have to ask one another these painful philosophical questions. Children should not grow up without fathers.
As we work to strengthen ourselves in our attendance to and intention of the Shemona Esrei, let us think of the children. Let us pray for every child to enter the world with his father there to support him. Let us pray for every wife to have a husband present at childbirth. And let us embrace the children in our lives with unbridled love and devotion.
Our Shemona Esreis are the spiritual armor and weapons of our chayalim. Their children are our children. If not for yourself, please consider doing it for the children. Thanks, as always, for being part of The Amida Army.
Feb 20, '25
The entire scene is so fantastical that I don't why I am only hyper focusing on the two boys in the forefront.
Red hair aflaming, they clap their tambourines with a childish charm. They look like cherubic angels in their white blazers, dress pants, and patent leather shoes. I cannot help but to be taken by their buoyant smiles and radiating joy.
Just when I thought we could never rejoice again, just as I felt the last breaths of hope evaporate in the heavy air of loss and devastation and broken dreams, this entourage broke through.
Kfir! Ariel! You have indeed come home!
They lead the joyous procession of redemption.
Just steps behind, we see the beaming visages of so many we never met but intimately know.
Hirsh, my brother!
Ori, my hero.
Ari Fuld- wow, you look so strong.
The male procession is flanked by the women. I wave to Eden, to Carmel and-
Shiri! Your mama pride is palpable.
They are all joy, all holy, all beautiful. Every slaughtered hostage, every murdered civilian, every Chayal. And this is just the front of the group. They are carrying the Bais HaMikdash#3, stronger than ever.
And behind them comes the legions of those we thought we lost forever.
The family, the friends, the Holocaust survivors, the martyrs of the Crusades and Inquisition.
I'm now at my knees, crying from joy I never knew I could experience. The shattered pieces of my heart start pooling together, healing in a miraculous way I never knew possible. I slowly draw to my full height and join the procession.
Hashem, deep down I knew that You would bring them all home.
It's been such a painful exile , but now we are all coming home.
Redemption has arrived.
May we truly merit to see Shiri, Ariel, Kfir, Oded, and all the others return home very soon with techiyas hamasim. Until then, המקום ינחם אתכם בתוך שאר אבלי ציון וירושלים . Amidst the pain, I cleave to this image of everyone returning home.
Jan 16, '25
I am so grateful to all of you who are storming the heavens on behalf of our hostages and chayalim.
Sharing a very vulnerable piece of my heart tonight.
I have been walking around feeling like I can't breathe.
My chest is tight and there is not enough air.
It is so bizarre, because I am exercising in between the bouts of dyspnea. It is so strange because I have experienced reflux and post nasal drip before.
This is something atypical, an experience of the supernatural that I am not revelling in.
It is worse at night. The noose around my trachea is tight enough to feel but not sufficient to alarm me. The weight on my chest is palpable but moderate. Sleep evades me despite my hectic, long day.
It takes me a day or two to realize that yes, while I have some physiological explanations of this sensation, it is really an affliction of my soul.
When I think about each hostage family praying, begging, dreaming, screaming for their loved one to come back home, I wonder how they breathe. How even a simple movement of air is possible.
After 460+ days, who among them is going to greet their living child? And what does living mean after 460+ of hell? Hell in the hands of the most inhumane? And then- here is where I am literally gasping, who- Hashem please hold them directly in Your arms and tears - is going to be greeting a lifeless child?
As I go through my day, I'm left wondering - how is everyone else breathing? Because in the many pockets of my day when I think about
Agam, Sasha, Alon, Arbel, Ariel K., Ariel B., Avraham, Avinatan, Bar Avraham, Bipin, Daniela, David, Doron, Edan, Eitan Avraham, Eitan H., Eliya, Eliyahu, Elkana, Emily Tehila, Evyatar, Gadi Moshe, Gali, Guy, Hisham, Karina, Kfir, Liri, Maxim, Na'ama, Nimrod, Oded, Ofer, Ohad B. Ohad Y., Omer W., Omer S., Omri, Or, Pinta, Pongsak, Room, Romi, Sagui, Sasiwan, Sathian, Segev, Shiri, Shlomo, Surasak, Keith Shmuel, Tal, Tamir, Tsachi, Yair, Yarden, Yosef Chaim, Matan Z., Matan A., Watchara, and Ziv,
I don't see anyone else around me struggling to breathe. I feel alone in my hypoxia.
Where are the tefila rallies? Why aren't there more public outcries? Where are the voices? Tears? We must make noise. In between the desperate breaths, we must let the screams penetrate.
Yes, I know we are in the birth pangs of the Moshiach. But what about those of our brothers and sisters who are having the most prolonged labor of 460+ days, who have been screaming from the birth pangs until they can barely breathe, only to birth a still born?
Hashem, please please please have mercy. Please give us air to breathe and let joy and laughter of salvation fill the air. We trust You, we know it is for the best, but it's hard to remember when we are just fighting to breathe.
Breathe. Cry. Breathe.
Sept 1, '24
*Hersh* . *Almog* . *Alex* . *Ori* . My brothers. My heart is broken.
*Eden* . *Carmel* . My sisters. I am crying.
For the moment, my moral is shattered. My heart is splintered. My soul feels empty. May Hashem avenge their blood.
And yet...I keep returning to the second blessing of the Amida. *מלך ממית ומחיה ומצמיח ישועה* . Clinging to this bracha, through the fog of my grief, I can see their beautiful faces radiating from heaven. They are trying to tell me, "We suffered. Am Yisrael is suffering. But believe us, we are whole and we are beautiful and Hashem's plan is only full of love and goodness. We will see you soon. Hashem brings death but it is through this that there will be revival. Redemption is sprouting through this. Keep praying, keep growing. Your prayers helped us more than you will ever know." And I will myself to believe them.
And then I turn back to this world, and I cannot help but be amazed by this awesome nation. We are all mourning the human karbonos whom we never physically met but whose souls intertwined in the most meaningful ways.
Hashem sees our love for one another. Hashem sees our self work. He sees our sincere desire for closeness to Him. He sees our simple faith, even in the face of such darkness and oppressive evil. And the contrast between Am Yisrael and Yishmael is even more stark than before. They, who place their munitions in schools and their tunnels under their babies cribs and slaughter their own civilians. Versus us, the most G-dly of people, who literally change their lives to help save their brethren, who cry over every single lost life, who mourn every lost world.
May Hashem avenge every single drop of blood and every tear.
Today we dedicate our Shemona Esreis to give life and comfort and love and strength to the living victims, especially the families whose loved ones have been taken by terror.
המקום ינחם אתכם בתוך שאר
אבלי ציון וירושלים.
