בס"ד

Throughout my year of learning and living in Israel many friends and family have been asking me questions about my experiences. The majority of the inquiries that I have fielded have been what I have expected and therefore I basically knew what my answers would be. One question, however, that comes up the most often has been the hardest one to answer. Everyone wants to know what it's like to be living in Israel during these hard times and if my year of learning has been compromised because of the situation. At the risk of being viewed as a cold-hearted person, I was always telling everybody that it wasn't as bad as the media made it out to be and that life was going on as normal as possible. For me personally that was exactly what was happening. Besides the daily Tehillim and the constant worry of my parents, Yeshiva was pretty much going the way I had anticipated.

However, as the newspaper was looking more like an obituary everyday, I decided I needed to do something about it. I felt the need to contribute. I needed to answer the question: How did you contribute to the situation in Israel? How did you affect the Matzav (situation)?

Because of my previous experience working for the Teaneck Volunteer Ambulance Corps. , I thought that perhaps my small contribution to Israeli society would be to volunteer for Magen David Adom (MDA). I did a little research and ended up applying for a MDA program run through the Jewish Agency. I had an interview with the head of the Foreign Affairs department of MDA, a young man by the name of Yochai Porat. The interview went as well as I could have hoped for. All that was left was to complete my application.

Unfortunately, Yochai was going on Miluim (reserve duty) and I had to wait until he returned.

Last Sunday I got word of yet another horrible terrorist attack. This time an Israeli checkpoint outside Ramallah was attacked by a lone sniper killing seven soldiers including a medic and three civilians. As depressing and sad as the news was, I, as well as all the other boys in Yeshiva went on with our daily activities. The next morning I opened up the newspaper to find a list of names of the soldiers killed in the attack. The very first name listed, the medic, was Sergeant-Lieutenant Yochai Porat. Needless to say, that hit a little too close to home since I still had his business card in my wallet, his cellphone number stored in my phone and I was supposed to call him in a few days.

After a few phone calls and arrangements I found myself at the military cemetery in Kfar Saba. I stood there by myself and watched as an additional four hundred people, some in MDA uniforms and others in IDF uniforms, filed in to pay their last respects to the fallen soldier and friend. Thank-G-d I've only been to a few funerals in my lifetime, and they had all been civilian. Military funerals are much different, especially in Israel. The coffin, draped with an Israeli flag (representing the nation of which Yochai as well as countless other Jewish fighters have been killed defending) was proceeded by Yochai's unit. All boys my age in their neatly pressed IDF uniforms with their gray berets tilted slightly to the left. Underneath their black sunglasses I could make out the tears rolling down their faces.

Funeral of Yochai Porat, March 4, 2002. AP

After burying Yochai his brother, sister, mother and father all spoke. They spoke about Yochai's life, his death, and what he meant to them all. The funeral ended with a gun salute by his unit; the sound of the machine guns piercing the silence.

In retrospect what struck me most about the ceremony was that when I first arrived I felt like an outsider, after all, I met Yochai only once. However, when I left I felt part of the nation, and therefore part of the country. As I watched the unit of soldiers slowly marching back exactly as they had come only this time without Yochai, I couldn't help but realize that they were going right back to the front-lines to defend the country.

I returned to my insulated and isolated Yeshiva and for the next few days I couldn't stop thinking about Yochai.

From now on when I read the casualty count in the morning paper I don't just see soldiers of a country. I see guys my age, defenders of our country and nation, Jewish fighters, sons, brothers and Yochais. I now have a new perspective of the situation. A situation of which we all must feel the affects not because we know Yochai's family rather because we are Yochai's family. I realize now that my goals were all wrong. Instead of trying to figure out ways that I can have an affect on the situation I need to make sure the situation effects me. This has become a central goal and accomplishment of mine over the year and my experience in Israel has been shaped not despite the situation but by the situation.

Sincerely,

Judah