All the old war movies used to say that. "Freedom isn't free." It sounded tough; but I didn't really get it as a teenager. I was a little more in tune with "Freedom ain't worth nothin' when there's nothin' left to lose." Bobby McGee resonates so much better to a young Liberal than does John Wayne. But then, life did what it does, in it's twisty-turny way. I ended up in the army. And I understood John a little better, and couldn't quite remember what it was I'd seen in Bobby.
Below you will see pictures of my delightful Purim celebration, interspersed with the words of the Purim of one of my soldier sons. Just to remind myself that all this delicious freedom I get to celebrate isn't free.
Purim 5772. Where was I?
I was not at a table with my family eating and drinking. I was not out delivering Mishloach Manot. I was not dressed in some goofy costume dancing in the streets of Jerusalem. For I am a soldier; and I have a job to do.
As the Fast of Esther came to a close, before I even put a morsel of food in my mouth, we were loaded onto Blackhawk helicopters and taken to the northern part of Israel to continue our week-long training exercise. We had been training the whole week in many different parts of the country. The week is meant to prepare us for the most extreme warfare conditions. We eat very little, sleep even less, march through the night, and execute combat exercises with fervor.
When the helicopters landed we marched a few kilometers to the meeting point. There, in a pitch black field far from our celebrating nation, a group of soldiers in battle gear, with one flashlight, read the Megilla.
Immediately afterward, we ate whatever food we had and drank as much water as possible to prepare our tired bodies for the 13 kilometer march to the next combat exercise location.
We arrived as the first rays of morning shone over the horizon. We stopped and curled ourselves up, fighting the freezing winds to try and catch some sleep.
We woke to the joyous shouts of some young Chabadniks chanting Purim songs and handing out Mishloach Manot. The religious soldiers again gathered together and read the Megilla. There was dancing and singing. The Purim spirit was felt by every person there, by every soldier.
From there we began a very long combat exercise and we became focused again on the mission, on our job.
Like that, Purim came and Purim went.
Why was I there? I was there because, as every Jew knows, although we celebrate the hanging of Haman, evil has yet to be vanquished. I was there because we live with the sobering reality that as we try to drink enough to confuse "blessed be Mordechai and cursed be Haman," our enemies know very well who Mordechai is and how badly they want him destroyed. Their hatred and Amalek's determination for our downfall allow us no days off. We must always remain vigilant and ready. In the days of the first Purim, Esther received permission to annihilate the enemies of Israel. We pray for the day that, just as then, we in our days will be given permission by the One True King to smash our enemies into dust and lay waste to evil for eternity. Amen.
For now, however, we will be out there training. Putting aside our individual lives for that of the Nation. Reading the Megilla under the stars, with camouflage paint and a smile on our faces. And as the officer remarked before he began to recite the blessing on the Megilla: "It may not be ideal; but one thing is for sure -- you won't forget Purim 5772.”
~ Yeshiva Bochur, aka Sage Zion, aka Exiled Warrior
9 comments:
God bless our soldiers. They make us proud.
Your son did say one thing that made me wince:
"The religious soldiers again gathered together and read the Megilla. There was dancing and singing. The Purim spirit was felt by every person there, by every soldier."
If every soldier felt it, then why could not all the soldiers gather for the second reading? Did the religious boys invite their peers, or did they presume the non-religious would not relate to the reading? Surely the story itself is exhilarating - especially to boys who know they are training to fight the Hamans of the world!
ITV: As they say here in Israel, "le'at, le'at." Slowly, slowly. Many young people here as in Chu"l have been poisoned by atheistic media to be "turned off" from religion. But my sons report that the less-religious soldier ask questions, and are sometimes open to ideas if they are presented gently. But they value sleep and warmth a little more still than hearing the Megilla by flashlight. They admire the religious guys' devotion; but they also think they are a little crazy. Give them time. They serve side by side; they are friends. Who knows what will be the result of one shared hamantashen on a cold morning in the field?
Wonderful juxtaposition of stories dear friend and very moving.
As Elisheva wrote on Purim: "Dressed up as a soldier today. Original, huh?" She was also on duty up north.
We can't thank you enough for your service to Israel, but we should all try to thank our soldiers.
I like the juxtaposition of the pictures with the story...
We make a point to give mishloach manot to soldiers and those working at machsomim on Purim day. There is artistry in alternating your soldier's words with your pictures that says more than either alone. Kudos on another excellent post.
Beautifully done and very moving. Thanks for once again giving me an insightful, artfully focused glimpse into the real world. Sh'koach, Dovid!
"Who knows what will be the result of one shared hamantashen on a cold morning in the field?"
Ruti, you make a good point!
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