And here we go again. The already too familiar sound of the siren interrupted our morning coffee on Shabbat morning, and we immediately understood: another round is coming.

We have basically been at war for two and a half years straight. We have had some breaks, but we all knew the breaks were only temporary. The threat of a new round was looming over us for weeks, so much so that the memes saying, “Sof sof the war has begun, so we can relax,” are swamping our WhatsApp groups and are too funny — or too absurd — not to laugh.

And our husbands, fathers, sons, and in some cases our mothers, daughters, and wives are again called up to serve the country, and the rest of us are left at home, “alone,” taking care of children and pets, making sure to keep some kind of routine in place so that they — and we — don’t lose our minds. If we haven’t already.

But we haven’t. Some of us have, yes, but many haven’t. And I think the reason for that is that the unique, marvelous, magical unity of Am Israel in these times keeps us going, showing us what remains when all the noise is gone, when things are once again down to the essential, when the threat is existential, when nothing is taken for granted. Nothing but our unity. Nothing but the fact that we are not alone. We are one people, and we step up in times like these, and we remember what really matters.

And I find myself once again alone with children, but I am not alone. I have my friends, and I have my neighbors. I get non-stop messages offering food, or groceries, or company, or wine (essential for times like these!). And funny memes, and empathy, and jokes, and love. So much love.

This is where our power is. This, I believe, is one of the things that G-d wants from us. It’s a shame that it takes a war, every time, to remind us. I was listening to “Inspiration and Perspiration,” a short commentary on the parasha of this last Shabbat, Parashat Tetzaveh, by Rabbi Sacks. Rabbi Sacks says that “We can all have great ideas, inspirations, the glimpse of a project that could change our lives. But what often happens is that a day, a week, or a year later the thought has been forgotten or become a distant memory, at best a might-have-been. (…) The people who change the world, whether in small or epic ways, are those who turn peak experiences into daily routines, who know that the details matter, and who have developed the discipline of hard work, sustained over time.”

This idea seems central to the Jewish view of the world. Rav Akiva Tatz, in his book “Living Inspired”, explains this basic pattern of the world as the “secret of life”: “A person is inspired artificially at the beginning of any phase of life, but to acquire the depth of personality which is demanded of us, Hashem removes the inspiration. (…) the challenge is to fight back to the point of inspiration, and in so doing to build it permanently into one’s character”. It seems that part of our work is to keep the awareness of our oneness as a people, and our need for unity, beyond the “inspiration” that we get when our existence is evidently threatened by outside enemies.

It’s hard work to get out of ourselves and look to our side. To step into the neighbor’s shoes. To understand where those who are different from us, who think differently from us, come from. It’s much easier to judge, to see where the others are wrong and we are right. But perhaps that’s (at least part of) our avodah. A dear friend told me recently that whenever we point a finger at the other, we have three fingers pointing at ourselves. Maybe part of our avodah is looking inside before we look outside. To think what we can do better, instead of where we are right and the other is wrong. To show up for our friends and neighbors. For our brothers and sisters. And to remember that we are כאיש אחד בלב אחד, not only during wars, but also — especially — during peace, Please G-d, בקרוב.

© The Times of Israel (Blogs)