Last week, I wrote an article in which I expressed dismay that too many American Jews are effectively ignoring the current wartime situation in Israel. While Israelis are running into bomb shelters and living lives that are anything but normal, many Jewish people who openly support Israel nevertheless demonstrate an emotional detachment from the events currently taking place here. I was careful to point out that this is my subjective opinion, not verifiable fact; and that there are many exceptions, as well. Still, most of those who responded agreed with my assumptions, even if some also attempted to explain why this American attitude is understandable.

As much as we in Israel would like to feel greater support from our friends across the ocean, there are people who live in the United States itself who are far more in need of support and empathy. These are individuals who live in your towns and daven in your shuls, yet are carrying a weight that almost no one outside their circle can understand.

I’m speaking of parents outside of Israel whose children have joined the Israeli army. And they are simply not like you and me.

I am very proud that I have a son and sons-in-law who have served in the army. When I hear about their exploits – Shai, for example, spent months battling in Gaza, and Yaki participated in Israel’s invasion of Lebanon eighteen months ago – I can only shake my head at their bravery and willingness to put their lives on the line for the sake of the Jewish people and the Land of Israel.

This is an experience common to all parents of Israeli soldiers. We do not know the relative value that God gives to any particular mitzvah (Avot 2:1), but I am certain that the heavenly reward awaiting our soldiers is immeasurable. Their dedication has restored the faith of many of us in the future of the Jewish people; they carry the older generation on their shoulders.

While I have unbounded pride in my soldier children, I also acknowledge that, in a real sense, they are fulfilling expectations – society’s and their own. As Israeli kids raised in a national religious framework, the fact that they joined the army was less a decision than a fait accompli. They are doing what they always assumed they would do, much as American day school teenagers assume that they will eventually go to college. Doing otherwise, bucking the anticipated trends and following an alternative path, would require a formidable act of will.

That is why I am so very impressed with the lone soldiers of the IDF. Unlike Israeli kids, they grew up in a milieu where joining the army was exceptional, not typical. Their peers were likely on a well-trodden path, yet they chose to act differently out of principle.

Moreover, in contrast to Israeli soldiers, they joined the army despite the difficulty of understanding the language, despite the cultural gaps, despite the lack of immediate family living nearby. Israeli solders interact with other soldiers who are like them, and on their breaks from the army, come home to sleep in their childhood bedrooms. Lone soldiers, with smiles on their faces, make it work despite not having these advantages.

Where did these incredible kids acquire this fortitude, this strength of character, this sense of principle?

The answer, almost inevitably, is from their incredible families.

The parents of lone soldiers unquestionably help to inculcate the values and faith that inspire their children to do the unexpected, the exceptional. This, despite the reality that sending a child away to fight for Israel must involve the deepest combination of pride, love, and fear. I remember how emotional I felt when we drove Yaki to the IDF induction center at Tel Hashomer, even as I knew that we would see him a few weeks later. What goes through the minds of parents who drop their children off at the airport, knowing that they will soon be thousands of miles away, wearing fatigues, carrying weapons, and fighting for the people and Land of Israel? Do they not want to grab their children and keep them safe at home? Surely that goes through their minds – yet they invoke the greatest courage imaginable, smile bravely, and encourage their kids to put the principles they were taught into practice.

In my article, I indicated that Israelis sometimes feel a sense of distance between their American counterparts and themselves; we are living in parallel but very distinct realities. For the parents of lone soldiers, however, this feeling is likely exponentially greater. For Israelis, we are able to lean on each other. But the parents of lone soldiers left their hearts in Israel, while standing alone among many who don’t seem to have a care in the world. Their children are not just in Israel, but staring our enemies down on the front lines. And even if their kids have come home for a short break, they know that one call from a commander means that they’ll be on the next emergency flight, ready to join their fellow soldiers in the good fight for Israel’s future.

The parents of lone soldiers stand apart from the rest of us. I believe that at the top of the pyramid of merit for Am Yisrael, where those who embody the highest ideals of faith, love, dedication, and self-sacrifice stand alone, the parents of our beloved lone soldiers have pride of place. They are simply not like you and me – and they deserve all of the love that we can give them.

© The Times of Israel (Blogs)