He’s on a Mission, She’s on a Mission

By Mrs. Michal Morgenstern •

Chapter 1: WAR

It was an ordinary Thursday evening in July. Haifa, Israel.

Dinner and bath time. Picture a tired, pregnant Mommy – me, after a long day at work, outnumbered by four lively youngsters. My dear husband Eliezer, “Ezzy,” – still out studying for exams. It’s late. I’m trying to get the table cleared, the baby in the bath, the fighting resolved, clean up the food spilled on the floor, in my 8th month of pregnancy, getting heavier and heavier by the minute, in my head counting the minutes till Ezzy comes home, kids in bed, relax.

Finally, long awaited, he walks in. Yay!

I stare at him as he stands in the doorway. His face is different. “I’ve been called up”.

And my world crashes. Tears come to my eyes involuntarily, as they do again now, as I write these words.

Just an hour ago I comforted my friend and neighbor, offered to help her with her kids, as her husband, decked out in wrinkled olive-green reserve duty uniform, hopped in a taxi with an enormous army bag and waved goodbye. She is alone with a newborn and two toddlers.
“Called up”, echoes in my ears. “But you have a final exam tomorrow morning”, I manage to say.

“I need to get my gear and go. I need to be on base in a few hours. Didn’t you hear the news?”

Now I am in denial.  My world shrivels – I am exhausted. I need to rest, and I was waiting for my husband to take the kids to bed. This is not fair. Going? Now? But Ezzy has an exam he has been studying for so hard. An entire semester hinging on one final exam, tomorrow morning. Why now?
“For how long?”

“They told us to be ready for three weeks. But no one knows at this point. It’s a war.”
Thoughts circled in my mind, as I watched him pack a bag. Three sets of wrinkled olive-green reserve duty uniforms. Dusty boots. A bulletproof vest. Tears fill my eyes, the background noise of the children – how did they get to bed? – recedes, and I fall into self-pity. How can they take my husband away now? The father of my children!

A million “what ifs” forced their way into my consciousness, and I couldn’t understand why this is happening to ME, to HIM, it must be a mistake.

Of course, this was not the first war we have endured, nor the first reserve duty Ezzy has been called up to. Of course, when we met, and married, Ezzy was a combat officer in the IDF; Of course, I knew back then that serving in the army was his way of doing shlichus, always helping other soldiers, putting Tefillin on with them, encouraging, giving a dvar Torah on Shabbos. When we met, Ezzy was married to the army. Then he married me.
And now, in the middle of our life, the army called him back.

I couldn’t take it. I went outside to take out the trash. Worries flooded me. I felt incapacitated. Sobbing, I called my rebbetzin, my mashpiah.

“He got called up.” It was all I could say, weeping hysterically. She heard the news and understood immediately. Her son-in law also… “Can this be for real? What does Hashem want of us? This is so unfair, he has responsibilities, he needs to pass his exams… and finish his training for parnassah, for the family. He has a combat position and you know what that means. They are going down to Gaza. Maybe tonight. What should I do, and how can I understand this?”

“Can he defer?”

“No, don’t you know him? He’s adamant. He’s committed to the unit. It’s his responsibility to be there. He’s an Officer, they need him… They trained for this… there’s absolutely no talking him out of it in any way.”

“Perhaps you should write to the Rebbe, both of you, ask your questions and ask for a bracha. Be strong”. I agreed, and we hung up.

I walked back in, dried my tears, and took out a Tehillim. I told Ezzy I had to write to the Rebbe, and suggested he do the same. His bag was packed, and he was dressed in that wrinkly olive-green uniform, boots laced.

I wrote a Pan, poured out my heart, asked for advice, and that Hashem should protect my husband, keep him safe and that he should be successful. I put a sum in Tzedakah, and randomly opened up a book of the Rebbe’s letters, the “Igros Kodesh” volume 5. Ezzy did the same.

Chapter 2: My Answer from the Rebbe

In his letter to the anonymous correspondent, the Rebbe starts by offering a blessing for success. He then analyzes that the correspondent has fallen into a dark place in his thoughts, and offers him and his wife advice, that they overcome this dark spell by studying Torah, which will both keep the mind off the physical situation and offer spiritual benefit. The Rebbe finishes off by wishing good health for his wife, may it be even through kabalas ol, that they should both take upon themselves to serve Hashem in a way of simcha (happiness).

Ezzy’s letter from the Rebbe:

In this letter, dated 1952, the Rebbe speaks about the developments in recent years especially in Eretz Yisrael. The Rebbe states that it is clearly visible that these events cannot be interpreted according to the rules of history.

The conclusion, says the Rebbe, is that most often, the spiritual will defeat the physical, to the point where we see that victory even in the physical realm is achieved by the side which is stronger spiritually. Since this is the case for the klal, we learn and apply it to the individual, especially to each one of Am Yisrael, especially since after the horrific events of recent years (alluding to the Shoah), the responsibility upon each and every one of us (male and female), towards Klal Yisrael has increased, especially if one is in a situation where the leadership of this private individual will serve as an example which others surrounding him can learn from, in which case the responsibility increases even more so, since many individuals will be influenced by him.
The Rebbe alludes to the individual having learned at the Tomchei T’mimim Yeshiva, saying that nothing is lost from what he learned there, and since Hashem has blessed him and given him the opportunity to live in Eretz HaKodesh, the Holy Land, of which the Torah states “Eretz asher einei Hashem Elokeinu ba mreishis hashana ad achrit hashanah”, — that G-d’s eyes are upon it at all times, and he is in a position to influence the public, and his example serves to a known group, certainly with the slightest introspection, he will feel the immense responsibility resting on his shoulders … the responsibility towards himself, and his household, which means towards the Nefesh Elokis that is inside every one of the Bnei Yisrael, which yearns and thirsts to utilize its powers and abilities in daily life and action…

Having read these two letters, the first in which I received instruction on serving Hashem through happiness, and “snapping out” of this dark spell with Torah learning, and the second which spoke to Ezzy about the immense responsibility towards something larger than himself, larger than our family unit, and yet not dismissing himself or the family unit, but including it, I felt suddenly a great relief.

I had my answer. I had a sense of understanding, of context, of purpose.

Israel was at war. The southern border was being attacked by rockets from Gaza. Am Yisrael was united. Since the horrific kidnapping of the three boys Hy”d, Am Yisrael was united in prayers, increasing in Tehillim, candle lighting, you name it.

Now this gave way to war, and my husband simply had the zechus to be part of it, to lead Am Yisrael in it. Furthermore, his ultimate responsibility was not to finish his final exams, or to help take out the trash, etc, it was to generations back, and generations forward. Even his responsibility to the family and to himself had a deeper meaning – i.e. the responsibility to the Nefesh Elokis of the family and of himself. And furthermore, my husband actually having been a student at Tomchei T’mimim Lubavitch, as stated in the letter, and actually being in a known position to influence others, both at school at the Technion, in the army where he serves, among his friends, neighbors, and at the Chabad House, this letter made sense!

The Rebbe explained that the spirit transcends the physical reality, as Tanya teaches us. This is true both on a macroscopic national level and on a personal level. This meant for me that I must take charge and decide how to view the situation.

Chapter 3: Life During the War

Over the course of the next 45 days, Ezzy was away at the Gaza border, without access to a phone, let alone text, email, WhatsApp etc. The next 45 days and more, the south endured heavy artillery fire, sirens went off on an hourly basis, (in the south of Israel by the minute!), days in which we found ourselves routinely running to bomb shelters, and all the while I had not much information as to where my husband was (was he inside Gaza? The news was terrifying; ground forces such as his unit were exposed to booby traps and snipers). How long would this reality last?
I went back to the Rebbe’s guidance often, and I summarized for myself:

Be B’simcha, snap out of this dark spell. If needed, have kabalas ol – know that this is Hashem’s will.

History does not play itself out according to the rules. The spirit is what decides if we win or lose: individually and collectively.

I can and MUST decide where my spirit is.

Leadership and personal example.

Zechus to live in Eretz Yisrael —“Eretz Asher Einei Hashem..”

Responsibility – to Am Yisrael.

Responsibility to self and family means responsibility to Nefesh Elokis – to the higher self, to the potential we yearn to fulfill.

Having these tools readily available, my spirits were high.

Hard to believe, but I felt charged, on a mission. I felt strong. Would I let me spirits fall, and consequently his? Would I abandon a soldier on the front? (And the kids at home?) NO! I had to be strong, optimistic, happy.

My children picked up on this message and were proud of Abba, who was in the Tzava of Hashem “fighting the reshaim” (Tzahal – Tz’va Hagana L’Yisrael, also can read Tz’va Hashem La’ad, and that is what it meant for us). And they too are in Tzivos Hashem.

We clearly felt that every good deed we did would help. This was the battle of the spirit. We held a Mivtzah Mezuzah in our neighborhood, re-checking our mezuzahs, and encouraging our neighbors to check theirs. We held rallies for the children, with Tehillim, the 12 Pesukim and tzedakah. The kids packaged Shabbos candles, colored signs for the soldiers and we hung up banners in the playground with pesukim from Tehillim which deal with winning the war. Our spirits were high. Since most women’s husbands were away, we took turns helping one another; one offered to grocery shop, another lent a car to those who didn’t have.
I clearly remember one Erev Shabbos in which Ezzy was supposed to come home for Shabbos, after being away for over two weeks straight. He called Thursday, and I waited up all night for him. Friday morning, he said he’d be leaving later… I bought presents for the kids (from Abba, of course), cleaned, and made Shabbos meals that Ezzy liked.

Then at 12:47 PM, as I was on my way to pick the kids up from Gan (school), Ezzy called and said he couldn’t leave the base. They needed him, and they would probably be going into Gaza that night.

For a few minutes I was devastated. Shattered. Broken.

I sat down on the bench outside and let the tears come to my eyes. I didn’t feel I had the strength to get up.

Then I remembered that I had a choice. And Chassidus clearly teaches us what it must be. I picked up my kids, and we immediately gathered all the kids on the block and made a Shabbos party in the playground. My eldest, then six years old, ran and got the box of Neshek (Shabbos candles – Nerot Shabbat Kodesh) we hand out, and we handed them out. “Please light candles for our soldiers” we asked. And even people who we didn’t expect to, took candles and promised to do so. We were all dressed for Shabbas and ready to light 45 minutes early.

On Shabbos morning, I came outside to the playground only to find that the kids in the neighborhood had organized themselves to say Tehillim and recite the 12 p’sukim, something we lead every week. This week they did it all on their own!

I was so proud of them. We were on a roll, and we were not stopping. Every act counted. Shabbos afternoon was Tehillim in the park. Shabbos Mevarchim – I said the whole Tehillim while the kids napped (note to self – “not so hard! I can do this! Why have I not been able to do this before?!”).

Friends and family from America donated money for gear for the soldiers, and we sent it down south with brave friends. We were on a mission as well.

The elation, the tangible sense of unity and purpose, was conveyed to and shared by my friends and neighbors. This all came thanks to the teachings of Chassidus. I felt in every bone that we are on the verge of Geulah, that this was the awakening the Rebbe so wanted us to feel. To wake up and feel alive because every second counts! We are at war, at the front, and we can’t allow ourselves to sleep. The physical reality of news, sirens, bombings, paralleled the spiritual reality of being at war with apathy, at war with the Yetzer Hara, at the end of galus, ushering in Moshiach. It finally sunk in.

I was so far removed from my initial reaction when Ezzy was called up, that my friends and colleagues were shocked. “How do you manage?” they asked. “Aren’t you worried sick?” or “can’t he ask to come home?”

“Hashem sends strength” I answered and meant it more than ever before. Strength that I didn’t know I had, could not have had in a rational way, but did.

I had internalized that this was our zechus, to be part of, to do our job, to be our higher selves. Our Nefesh Elokis was yearning for this! We (the kids and I) were so busy doing mivtzoim, handing out candles, making Tehillim parties, sending mezuzahs to the sofer stam, I could no longer even relate to an attitude of “why was this happening to me”.

And whenever I felt, at a moment of silence, or when the news was unavoidably horrific or tense, that I just might fall back into that “black spell”, or that I just couldn’t take the worries any longer, I would open up the letter the Rebbe wrote, and review: Ruchnius will govern Gashmius. We have a responsibility to Klal Yisrael and to our Nefesh Elokis – our potential. We are put in this situation due to Hashgacha Pratis. And because of all this, we are serving Hashem b’simcha!

Ezzy came home a few days after Tisha B’Av, after they called a cease-fire with the Hamas yimach shmam.

Seeing him safe and sound made me realize how important he is to me, how we cannot take one another for granted, how we must strive to love and respect one another so much more.

Chapter 4: Take Home Messages

In Likkutei Sichos, vol. 36 on Parshas Shemos, the Rebbe discusses the idea of fear. The Rebbe discusses the question of how Moshe Rabbeinu, after killing the Egyptian, and Yaakov Avinu, when confronting Eisav, were filled with fear (even though both of them had been promised by Hashem that He would be with them and protect them), and why the Torah takes lengths to tell us this.

The Rebbe explains in this sicha the idea of the famous Chassidic saying “think good and it will be good”. Thinking good does not imply passively accepting, or even passively saying “it will be ok”, rather it is an avoda in and of itself – to place all of our trust, our bitachon, in Hashem, and actively work on this.

We are taught further that when we do this 100%, we are guaranteed to see good results, in a revealed way. In my situation, I applied this, and saw how well it worked.

I was confronted with an almost paralyzing fear. There were two courses of action possible – either succumb to fear and anxiety, which would have then been conveyed to my family and surroundings, and escalated from there, perhaps causing psychological damage; conversely, once I realized, through reading the letter from the Rebbe, that there was another course of action – to actively and truly believe that it IS good, and that it will BE good – the outcome was immediate.

Not only was I infused with extra strength to continue and survive, but I found extra strength to go out and be active, and do mivtzaim, and influence those around me. This affected my kids, who I clearly felt were also infused with special strength to get through this time.

This is also an example of the concept the Rebbe highlighted in the last ma’amar given to us as of yet — “VeAta Tezave.” A Jew in galus is like an olive: when squeezed to the brink, that is when the great potential which is given to everyone emerges.

I realized through this difficult time, that Chassidus is not something to be  left in the books on our bookshelf. It is alive, applicable to every moment, to breathe, survive, and flourish by.

Those 45 days this past summer could have been unbearable (and I would venture to say they were for most people in Eretz Yisrael), and while I would not volunteer to relive those worries for a million dollars, the lesson I hope will remain with me for life:

We are here on a mission; we are carrying the torch of previous generations and must not fail. We do not have the luxury to sink into self-pity. Yes, even (and especially) when reality is tough, “unfair”, and we don’t understand, it is because Hashem believes in our abilities and potential. If we are challenged, perhaps it is because we can and must serve as an example, an inspiration to others. Our reality is literally formed by our mindset.

Lastly, every act we do is of utmost importance to bring Moshiach. When there is an actual physical war, and snipers are sitting around you, rockets pointed at you, and your loved ones on the front line, you don’t sleep or fall into self-pity or apathy. You act. Then, it is easy to feel the importance of saying Tehillim, davening, and giving tzedakah, lighting Shabbos candles early, and helping your neighbors prepare for Shabbos. It is a matter of life and death! This is the way the Rebbe taught us to live – to feel the urgency of every good deed, in the final stages of ushering in the Geulah. If we can continue to do this now that the physical war is over, we won’t need another war, Moshiach will be here before.

***

Michal Morgenstern was born in Haifa, Israel, and grew up in San Dieo, CA, where she connected to Chabad through Chabad of UC. Michal studied engineering at UC Berkeley and then made Aliyah and joined the IDF, where she met her husband, Eliezer. Michal and Eliezer are proud parents of Nesyah Chaya Mushka, Avigayil Rivka, Micha’el Elimelech, Shirel Tamar and Menucha Rachel. Michal currently works as the head engineer of Ramat Yishay Local Authority. ■

This story was first submitted to the “MyLife Chassidus Applied” essay contest in 5775 (2015) and is reprinted with permission from meaningfullife.com