A Day in Jerusalem

My phone rings at 6:00a.m. It’s Tzivia. She thinks she’s in labor.

What a special moment. We've waited so long for this day. She and her husband have been married for ten years, and about two years ago they were told that they couldn’t have a child. But the doctors were wrong.

“Keep moving!” I tell her. “Let me pray and get the kids off to school and we'll speak soon.”

I pray. I pray for Israel, her soldiers and citizens. I pray for Tzivia. I pray for my family.

I send my children off for the day. “I love you,” I tell them.

I call Tzivia. She's doing well. It's a first birth, it could take some time. I ask her if she wants to make challah for the soldiers. We are organizing Shabbat care packages for them. What better way to labor then by making challah? She tells me she’ll get started right away.

I start working in my clinic with my phone nearby, waiting for Tzivia's next call. During my break, I check the news. It’s become an obsession, to check the news. We are at war. What is going on? How many rockets and missiles were fired at Israel today? I pray for our soldiers, and for the people now living in bomb shelters.

I read an email from a soldier:

Our hearts pound with fear. Which of us will die? Who will return safely? We fight for our country, we fight for you. We fight so you can live peacefully with your children. So you can stay alive. We protect you, will you protect us?

Protect us with your prayers. Protect us with your mitzvot. Pray for us. Pray that no more mothers bury their sons and that our wives don't become widows. Pray that our children will grow up knowing their fathers. Pray that we will successfully eliminate the terrorists who aim to destroy us, and that we don't injure innocent women and children in the process.

Please, when you're done reading this, don't just go on to the next thing on your list. Stop and say a chapter of Tehillim. Ask G‑d to bring peace and the ultimate redemption upon the world. Commit to doing a new mitzvah. And please, share this with your family and friends. I am certain your prayers will make a difference.

Remember, we are in this together. We are partners. We are on the front lines carrying the weapons, and you are fighting with spirituality. Every prayer you utter, every mitzvah you do, gives us strength, protection and success.

The responsibility weighs on me. My prayer, my every action. It’s more important than I realized.

The phone rings. Tzivia needs me. I'm on my way.

I step onto the light rail. It’s full of soldiers. Where are they going? To pay their last respects to a fellow soldier slain in battle. Killed by terrorists and terrorism in the battle against Hamas. I disembark two stops before the cemetery on Mount Herzl. They ride on.

Tzivia’s table is piledTzivia’s table is piled high with challah high with challah. I pack them up so that I won’t forget them.

We leave for the hospital. It’s time.

Several hours of crying and praying pass. As Tzivia pushes her baby out, the midwife asks her to pray for her son, a soldier on the frontlines in Gaza. She hasn’t heard from him in a week. Tzivia prays. We all pray. The midwife cries. We sob. A baby girl is born.

I return home to my family, to my own challah making. My children write notes of encouragement to the soldiers.

I collapse into bed thinking about Tzivia, her baby, the midwife, her son.

This is my day. A day in Jerusalem. Tomorrow will be a new one.