These days are among the most trying of my life. I have seven children and grandchildren currently serving in the Israel Defense Forces. Most are stationed in or near Gaza, facing daily threats from an enemy that knows no moral boundary. My prayers grow longer each morning, and as I ascend the bimah to bless the congregation with the ancient priestly blessing, “Yevarechecha Hashem v’yishmerecha…” I see not just my own children in my mind’s eye but the entire army of Israel. Each face is that of a son or daughter, and my heart trembles.
As a kohen, I bless the Jewish people in the name of G-d. But these days, I feel the blessing flows both ways. I am being uplifted by a generation of young Jews who have redefined what it means to serve, to sacrifice, and to sanctify life. They are not merely fulfilling a civic duty; they are answering a sacred call.
I have often said, “If all of Israel is holy, then our soldiers are the “Holy of Holies.” The Kodesh HaKodashim, the inner sanctum of the Temple, was the space where G-d’s presence rested most intensely – a place where only the kohen gadol could enter, and only on Yom Kippur. Today, our soldiers enter the modern sanctum – the battlefield – not out of obligation alone, but out of a profound love for the people of Israel and the Land of Israel. Their service, like that of the kohen gadol, is done on behalf of the nation, and often at great personal risk.
This generation is truly remarkable. They do not flee from hardship. They strive for the elite units, the most dangerous positions, not because of ego or pride, but because they yearn to be protectors. They are shomrim in the deepest sense of the word – guardians not only of land but of spirit, of Torah, of the Jewish future.
For nearly 30 years, I led my eighth-grade class on a two-week trip to Israel. I taught them about Jewish history, Zionism, and the miracles of our people. I remember their youthful awe as they stood on the ramparts of Jerusalem or walked the fields of the Galil. Today, I see the fruits of those seeds. Many of those same students have made aliyah, left behind comfort and familiarity in the United States, and volunteered to serve in the IDF. They did not need to – but their Jewish souls compelled them to.
Every day I worry. I check the news obsessively. I cling to my siddur like a lifeline. But at the same time, I am filled with pride. These young men and women possess emunah – deep, unwavering faith – and a sense of mesirut nefesh (self-sacrifice) that echoes the stories of our greatest ancestors. They are like David confronting Goliath – small in number, surrounded by danger but filled with bitachon, trust in G-d.
Our Sages taught, “In a place where there are no men, strive to be a man” (Pirkei Avot 2:5). This generation has taken that teaching to heart. They have risen above comfort, above fear, and stepped forward with courage. They are not just soldiers; they are our leaders. They are the Giborei Yisrael, the mighty ones of Israel.
When this war began, I heard stories that touched my soul. Doctors, professors, tech executives, teachers – all dropping everything to return to Israel. They put on a uniform, joined reserve units, and assumed their places as tank commanders and squad leaders. Some hadn’t been in uniform for decades, but they didn’t hesitate. How is it that we have merited such a generation?
It reminds me of the verse from Isaiah (54:13): “And all your children shall be taught of the L-rd, and great shall be the peace of your children.” The Hebrew word for “your children” (“banayich”) is homiletically read by the Talmud as “bonayich,” – your builders (Berachot 64a). Our children are not just being taught, they are building the future of Israel, brick by brick, battle by battle.
And we, their parents and grandparents, while filled with worry, can only stand in awe. We dare not judge their choices, their risks, or their resolve. They are guided by something larger than all of us – the heartbeat of Am Yisrael, the eternal people.
I think of the verse from Psalms (121:4): “Behold, the Guardian of Israel neither slumbers nor sleeps.” And I realize, our soldiers are partners in that guardianship. G-d watches over us, but He often works through human hands. These young men and women are His instruments of protection and mercy.
As I return each day to the bimah and raise my hands in blessing, I do so with a broken heart, but also a full one. My blessing is for all of them, every single soldier: that they return home safely, that they know the depth of our gratitude, and that they feel the love of a nation who sees in them not just warriors, but sanctifiers of G-d’s name.
May Hashem protect them, and may we be worthy of such a generation.
