"I Used to Help Patients from Gaza, Now I've Come to Get Tzitzit for Soldiers"

The upheaval we've experienced recently has brought change to many of us. People distant from religious observance are finding themselves connecting with Judaism. Those who sought peace with our enemies realized their partners are different (indeed) than they thought. Advocates for conflict in certain groups have calmed down, faced with the goodness and love that unite us all. And also: the trend of tzitzit, tefillin, prayers, and endless giving. Rebbetzin Hagit Shira, Rebbetzin Rachel Bazak, Moran Kurs, and Efrat Barzel bring you the heartwarming stories. 

Messages from Hashem

"I was at one of the northern command soldier meetings last Friday, and the commander called me and asked, 'Come do challah separation for them,'" begins Rebbetzin Hagit Shira. "I was a bit stunned by his request, like – where is this coming from?" Of course, this was not the only phone call the Rebbetzin received in the past weeks. "Many women come to my weekly class or call, with one request – to get closer. I see a great interest; they want to learn and understand, looking to take upon themselves commitments. I've started releasing short video clips explaining the basics – how to say 'Modeh Ani,' how to wash hands, how to start keeping Shabbat. There's high demand for these things now. It's written that before Mashiach comes, we will all do teshuvah easily; something that will open our hearts. So now the hearts are open, people are just seeking to do good."

Outside Rebbetzin Rachel Bazak's home, there have been protests for a year and a half. "Today, all these protesters are coming to Torah classes," she says excitedly. "They are recognizable. Very good people, who until now didn't understand the connection between Torah observance and what's happening in the world. I live in a neighborhood characterized by non-religiosity, and suddenly hundreds are coming to classes".

On a personal level, the stories keep pouring in. "Someone whispered in my ear this week, 'Rebbetzin, I didn't light candles, and now I do,' another decided to cut all her mini skirts. Another woman told me, 'I didn't own a single skirt, but since Simchat Torah, I've only been wearing long skirts.' These are women who understand that not only the soldiers in the field are acting, but also they are," continues Rebbetzin Bazak. "I hear from others in our community about those who used to walk by without entering and now come and ask for tzitzit. Mothers tell me, 'It's a miracle, my child doesn't take off the tzitzit, not in my wildest dreams would I have imagined such a thing.' The people of Israel are holding onto mitzvot and not budging from them".

Another friend of the Rebbetzin decided to speak publicly about keeping Shabbat. "A woman I used to have debates with about keeping Yom Kippur! Now she decided to keep Shabbat, not because she's a big expert on the matter, but out of a sense that something must be done for Israel. And it didn't stop there; this friend took it a step further and decided to talk about it with her Instagram followers. She told me, 'I see a drop in the number of followers, but I'm not willing to give up these conversations.' Anyone with Instagram knows that a drop in followers is a price you pay, yet she sticks to it."

How do you explain this strengthening?

"One of the most troubling questions people have is why some and not others, why one person and not the next? There's no answer, but we can see what I call 'messages from Hashem.' Various stories of divine providence that are hard to ignore, and people are opening their eyes and hearts and feeling them".

"I Never Thought I'd Enter a Religious Home"

Moran Kurs surprises with moving stories as well. "I have a spiritual command center at home – tzitzit, tefillin, tallitot, kippot, Chitat, various stickers for distribution, and all sorts of people come to us. One day a woman knocked on our door, describing herself as leftist. She told me, 'I'm one of the regular protesters at Kaplan, I never thought I'd ever step into a religious home, and not only that – but come to take tzitzit for my son and his platoon.' Not so long ago, she protested against the government and the religious, and now, she told me, 'This won't be my last visit here, I’m sure I'll come back to get tzitzit for more platoons.'"

The surprising background of that protester sharpens the contrast even more. "This is a woman who used to take Gazan children and pay for their medical treatments in our hospitals," describes Moran. "Only the terrible massacre made it clear to her that these children are the next shahids who want to slaughter us. She watched a particularly brutal video, and afterwards, she had no doubts left. I asked her, 'After all, these people have murdered before in various communities, like Huwara?' She replied, 'We blamed the settlers for living there. And in general – until it hits your friends, you don’t open your eyes.' She grew up in one of the southern kibbutzim and now has friends who were kidnapped, injured, and some who were murdered. After her, another father arrived seeking tzitzit for his son and friends, saying, 'I’m from the Brothers in Arms, but it all turned around in my head. I realized you're my brothers.'"

Another woman, from the neighborhood where Moran lives, also surprised. "She and her husband decided to take on something spiritual due to the situation. They are people aware of the mind-body connection and believe that spiritual strengthening can influence further. Their decision was to observe family purity. 'Purity is something that all our people need to experience, due to the lack of unity in our nation,' the neighbor told me, 'so we sought something purifying, and decided this was the right thing.' She came to me because she knew I handle this subject and asked to study the laws with me."

In general, Moran adds, "Many women turned to me saying they want to set up a study partnership for Torah learning or to keep kosher. Another story I encountered was a few Fridays ago, when I went out with my daughters to distribute Shabbat candles. A woman I offered them to told me, 'I don’t light Shabbat candles, on principle, but after what happened, I understand we need to add light, and this will be my light.' Then she continued: 'But this is just the beginning – I want to light candles every week.'

"And that's not the end of the story," Moran continues. "A few days later, I went to a family in mourning who lost their daughter in the terrible tragedy. Among the comforters, that same woman approached me and said, 'You look familiar.' I didn’t recognize her, but eventually, she remembered: 'Hey, you're the one who gave me the Shabbat candles!' Then she excitedly continued: 'We lived in uncertainty for a week about the girl who was killed. We didn’t know if she was one of the captives or not. That feeling is the worst, it haunted us day and night, an unbearable situation. Two hours after lighting the Shabbat candles, we received the message they found the body.' I didn’t say anything to her, and she, standing in a tank top, felt there was a connection between the events."

Moran adds stories of those who held onto their spiritual connection even during the massacre: "Tali Hadad, famous for her incredible bravery in saving 12 victims in Ofakim, told me about what gave her strength to do so. She said that until sixth grade, she received a religious education. Suddenly, at those moments, the prayer words she knew were in front of her eyes. She felt that Hashem was enveloping her and giving her supreme strength to carry out this mission. This is the power of the childhood lessons that stayed with her and helped her save Jews with incredible self-sacrifice."

"Not Hysterical, Not Crying, Not Afraid"

Efrat Barzel points to a slightly different change – on the emotional level: "Many women wrote to me after the disaster 'I'm not hysterical, not crying, not afraid – maybe something's wrong with me?' The interesting thing is, these aren't women in emotional detachment to create some kind of defense, but those who over the months and years have worked on building their personalities. Upon learning of the terrible news, these women knew that if they internalized every story they heard and absorbed the collective sorrow, they would collapse. Therefore, during the fire, they consciously chose not to enter sensitive places, to the extent they were fully functional."

According to her, this change is particularly in women who are the most sensitive: "These women should, theoretically, be shattered in such a time of catastrophe, and yet they maintained a certain degree of distance by choice, which saved them. Later they described to me how gradually, with an emotional door they decided to open only weeks after the disaster, they chose in moderation what to let into themselves and what not. The wonderful thing is that those who closed themselves off before and faced comments like 'What, don't you see? Don't you hear?' are now the ones who have the strength, as others start to tire."

In general, what hadn't happened before is happening now. "There's a touch on the pain during the event, without waiting for traumas and deep emotional pains that would require years of work," Efrat continues. "Men who cry at night now also cry during the day, and this ability to mourn the pain, talk about failures, and tell ourselves about our shortcomings, are now visible both personally and nationally. This allows for addressing issues here and now to prevent future damage."

But not only dealing with trauma is surfacing. "Mothers know how to speak correctly to their children, they know how to function. Even those who were in the midst of the disaster and need to explain to their children about the loss of a close family member or answer questions like 'What if they come to kill us?' – even they know how to respond."

"One last thing in conclusion," says Efrat, "we were approached, ultra-Orthodox women from Bnei Brak, with a request to join with hostage mothers for a large women's prayer for the children over there and the situation in general. This has already happened and continues, we stand together in prayer."