WhatsappWho could have envisioned when the sirens blared all over Israel on Oct. 7, 2023, intruding into the joy of Yom Tov, that we would be scrambling for the shelter of our mamad, our safe room, numerous times in the weeks and months to come?
In the early stages of this war, the sirens would blare with no warning, and we would have 90 seconds to seek the safety of shelter, whether at home or away.
The residents of the Gaza envelope had a mere 15 seconds and they have been living with this since Hamas usurped power in the Strip in 2007. I can’t imagine how they lived their lives for those 16 years, especially in the light of assurances of the Expulsion from Gaza proponents in 2005 that Israel would never tolerate any aggression from the newly vacated Gaza Strip.
Unfortunately, that was just rhetoric. For almost two decades, the West played defense, appeasing, hesitating, hoping diplomacy would hold back the tidal wave of terror. And Israel was waiting for the world to take action against this global threat, when it didn’t.
Now, Israel is openly striking inside Iran—the head of the snake. That sentence alone would have been unthinkable just a few months ago. But here we are. After the horrors of October 7, after months of relentless fighting against Hamas, Hezbollah and the Iranian terror axis on every front—we’re now taking the battle to Tehran itself.
So yes—we feel proud. Not in an arrogant way. In the way a person feels when standing firm for something that must be done. The feeling of a nation that has said “enough” and is finally acting on it.
But then the sirens sound and we are rudely brought back to a different reality—the fear of massive volleys of intercontinental ballistic missiles being shot at us from Iran. Please read that last sentence again and try to contemplate what it says! The amount of time spent in our mamadim, safe rooms, has suddenly expanded significantly with the attack on Iran’s nuclear and ballistic facilities last Thursday night.
Our first experience of a massive barrage of Iranian missiles was last October when Israel was attacked by hundreds of missiles and drones. We sat in our sealed mamad, which in normal times is our den and TV room, paralyzed with fear as the scope of the attack was revealed by the various news reports. Nes Gadol – a huge miracle happened that night. What an amazing relief when we learned of the success of the various sophisticated technologies that totally eradicated the threat.
And now Israel is now doing what has to be done. But with Israel’s actions against Iran, the head of the snake, the scramble to the mamad has become a daily experience – usually two or three times a day and usually between the hours of 9 p.m. and 5 a.m.. And the emotions shift in a split second. That gut-punch sound—waaaaaa-oooooo-waaaaa—it doesn’t just shake your ears. It shakes your soul.
Even after all these years, you never really get used to it. That moment hits, and adrenaline takes over. The first thought isn’t political. It’s not strategic. It’s primal.
Where are the other members of our family? Are they home or out driving somewhere? Where are their kids? Can we make it in time? Can they? What will they do if they can’t?
You run to the safe room. You slam the door. You seal it.
And then you wait.
In that small room, in those tense, suspended minutes, time stretches. You listen for the booms. You try to breathe normally. You wonder how many missiles will not be intercepted by David’s Sling, the Arrow System or Iron Dome, and where they will hit. You pray it’s an open field. You pray it’s not your neighbor or your neighborhood. You pray it’s not Tel Aviv. And as the seconds tick by, and the threat passes, you remind yourself: We’re still here. We’re alive. That’s what matters.
On Friday night we experienced this moment together. Five of us having Shabbat dinner. (In Avi’s words: my father, mother, wife and sister). Our phones flashed with the message from the Home Front to expect an incoming attack (Rabbis had given instructions to keep our phones on for Shabbat) and we scrambled for the mamad where we continued with our Shabbat meal—kiddush, Hamotzi and then the meal in the mamad.
Leaving the house these days is no longer automatic. It’s a calculation.
Do I drive now, or wait another hour?
Where will I be if the siren sounds while I’m on the road? Is there a safe space nearby?
One night, I (Avi) experienced one of the most emotional moments I’ve experienced since this war began. I had to drive under the threat of Iranian missile attacks to pick up my son—an IDF soldier granted short leave from his combat unit in Gaza. Our unbelievably humane and caring army was sending him home to be with his bride of two months because their apartment had been damaged by the blast of a missile that had fallen nearby.
We thought it might be informative to solicit feelings and emotions from other members of our family. “How do you feel when you’re in the mamad?”
Claustrophobic, frightened, angry, sad at the loss of life and destruction of property, nervous, fearful, grateful to be together in the mamad, unsure of what’s happening outside, how much time will we have to stay in here, how much time before the next attack.
And a family member who is in America for a simcha with the uncertainty of when they will be able to return home wrote:
We are watching history unfold far from our home. Feelings are surreal as we listen to the news and know what our family and friends are going through as we have done it for 1 1/2 years. Bizarre not to run to the mamad when our phone shows an alert in our home area. We are davening for a swift victory for our amazing chayalim and a swift return home in peace and safety BE”H.
We think of American Jews who are watching the missiles from the “safe room” of your lives in the U.S.. We don’t doubt that you are feeling a level of the same anxiety and fear that we are feeling.
But there is something missing. The events of the past 620 days should also serve as a clarion wakeup call to all American Jews. To paraphrase Avi’s words in a Jerusalem Post response to New York Times columnist Thomas Friedman (Jerusalem Post, June 14, 2025), Oct. 7 didn’t ignite the hatred that we are witnessing, it exposed it! It was just lurking underneath the surface, waiting for an opportunity to burst forth in all of its venom and its ugliness.
Too many people have ignored for too long the amazing gift that God gave us in 1948, the opportunity for the Jewish people to return to its ancient homeland!
The birth of modern Israel is the fulfillment of what we have prayed for and yearned for as a people for 2,000 years. Ours is the generation that was privileged to be able to act on what for our grandparents was only a dream. It should be increasingly clear that unfortunately and tragically, there is no long-range future for the Jews in America. The United States played a vital and critically important role in our history, and in the birth and growth of modern Israel. But it should be clear that the prospects for the future are bleak and that the era of feeling safe and secure in America may rapidly be coming to a close.
Many of the respected rabbis and leaders in Bergen County have made aliyah in the past few years or are planning aliyah in the foreseeable future. Join them. Come and help build this amazing country and play your role in fulfilling Jewish destiny. This is the future of the Jewish people, not the Goldenea Medina. We are waiting with open arms for you to come home.
