Because Food Isn't Enough

When Yossi Swerdlov, Rabbi Chuni Vogel of Delaware, Barry from New Zealand and I went to visit the soldiers at the Gaza border yesterday, we ran into a group eating their food. They were devouring it. As if they hadn't seen food in years.

We were advised to stay away from the soldiers while they were eating. They couldn't focus on anything else.

War is difficult and draining on a soldier. Food provides a moment of consolation and comfort.

But there is another kind of sustenance our soldiers need. A sustenance that goes deeper than their stomachs. Past their hunger, and straight to their soul.

I didn't know what to expect on this outing. We were coming to hand out Psalms to the soldiers, wrap tefillin on them, and hand out the letters the wonderful readers of Chabad.org had sent in from all over the world. But would the soldiers care? They were fighting, killing, dying. Who had time to worry about G‑d or letters?

These boys, who had seen things that I cannot even imagine, were so happy and friendly. So thankful for your lettersWe left the soldiers to eat their food and drove to another army base. I felt slightly discouraged, and was pretty sure that no one would be interested in what we came here for.

That is until we came to the security checkpoint. Yossi exclaimed to the soldiers in Hebrew, "Anyone want to put on tefillin?!"

Immediately, a soldier came to the window and responded, "To be honest, I'd love to."

And so we all exited the car, danced around him, and Yossi wrapped tefillin around him excitedly.

It was profoundly moving.

But we weren't done. We had plenty of work to do. We started giving out the letters from Chabad.org to any soldier we could see. Some needed our help reading them, some read them aloud. No matter what, however, as the words flowed out, your beautiful words, the sides of the soldiers' lips would curl upwards. Their eyes would light up.

As we walked into the base, my breath left me for a moment. The "base" was really just a field littered with dozens of tanks and plenty of soldiers to go along with it.

As we went around handing out the letters to the soldiers, explaining what they were to each of them, we got the same reaction: warmth, happiness and thankfulness. I was amazed. These boys, who had seen things that I cannot even imagine, were so happy and friendly. So thankful for your letters.

And then, some would put on tefillin and pray to G‑d.

Any outside observer would notice the light that came from the soldiers.

Visiting soldier after soldier in base after base made it obvious in my mind that this desire to connect to the outside world and to connect with G‑d was not something that was limited to a few people.

We visited soldiers in deserted schools, ramshackle newly-built homes, and everywhere else we could find. We talked to Ashkenazim and Sephardim. We danced with soldiers from Israel, Ukraine, the United States and everywhere else. Everyone welcomed us. Everyone smiled when we gave them your letters. Their connection to their Jewish souls broke all boundaries, and their connection to G‑d made them truly strong enough to fight.

The soldiers needed this sustenance. They needed this food. Because food can only keep us full for so long. But our connection to who we are is permanent.