O pinion
I Spent the Night in a Bomb Shelter With My Kids
BY SHARON WEISS-GREENBERG
LAST NIGHT WAS the second
time that I hugged my children
in a bomb shelter.

The first time was on Nov.

12, 2019. That day, I heard a
siren indicating that rockets
were headed to my new home in
the city of Modiin, having just
moved to Israel in 2018. I picked
up my kids early from school
and brought them to a play date
at a friend’s house. I wasn’t sure
what the protocol or etiquette
was for a situation like this.

We set up our children in
the “mamad,” the safe room, to
play games and watch Netflix.

Mamads are a fixture in modern
Israeli apartments. These
well-fortified spaces have extra-
thick walls and floors, airtight
steel doors and extra metal
closures on the windows.

Back then, my children had
no idea what was going on
around them — they were too
busy having fun. They did not
hear the explosion of Iron Dome
intercepting and destroying the
incoming rockets. They were
simply thrilled to have a day off
from school.

As for myself, I wasn’t sure
how to feel or act, so I just played
it cool. After a couple of hours, I
decided it was time to go home.

I remember feeling terrified,
but I didn’t want my children
to know. On the walk home, I
noticed how life seemed pretty
normal. Last night was different. This
time, my kids are older (second
and fourth grades) and were
prepared. Just last week there
was a practice siren, a drill,
for the entire city of Modiin,
including at my kids’ school. It
was hard not to be with them.

The same way that I remember
practicing fire drills with my
former students when I was
a teacher, my children were
preparing for the imminent
threat of rockets being launched.

I was hopeful that the prepa-
rations would not be necessary,
the same way you prepare for
any type of unsafe situation and
hope for the best. In retrospect,
I am grateful to have been more
prepared and for my kids to have
been prepared, too.

As someone who grew up in
the U.S., it feels different to be
in Israel as terrible news breaks
rather than watching it on TV or
reading about it. It is different to
actually hear the sirens warning
us to seek shelter. The sound
is terrible and multilayered,
as we also hear the sirens of
neighboring cities. It is different,
and scary, to actually feel your
home shaking throughout the
night and morning, as Iron
Dome did its best to intercept
the hundreds of rockets.

My family moved to Israel
for many reasons, but certainly
this was not one of them. I do
not want such violence to be the
reality in Israel; I want peace. I
want people to compromise and
value each other. Simply put, I
would love normalcy.

I appreciate how my children
can practice Judaism here
without being different from
mainstream society. What’s
more, we deliberately chose a
neighborhood that embraced
diversity in Jewish practice.

While there are random incon-
veniences as an American
immigrant to living in Israel,
ultimately these are no big
deal because they are just that:
inconveniences. I was hopeful about the
results of Israel’s most recent
election — we almost landed a
rather diverse government coali-
tion. Things may be difficult
now, but I am hopeful that we
can move to calmer days soon,
when everyone in the region can
sleep through the night, put food
on the table, and have the will,
want and ability to live in peace.

Last night, my children stayed
up past bedtime. Normally I’d
find this frustrating, but I was
grateful because they were still
awake when the sirens began.

I opened the door to the kids’
room, and fortunately they were
already climbing out of their beds.

Though the thoughts in my head
were racing, I tried to appear calm.

Our city and our school had
sent out advice on how to interact
with your children when under
attack: remain calm, focus on
them, allow them to express
themselves and use physical
affection to comfort them.

At first, my kids were nervous
that we were not quick enough
getting to the mamad. Once the
door to our mamad was fully
shut, my younger son turned to
me and said, “Mommy. My heart
is beating so fast.” I followed
the instructions that had been
sent earlier: I made eye contact.

I said, “Come let me hug you.

Let me feel your heartbeat.” It
worked — he quickly calmed
down. The interaction lasted less
than a minute, but it was intense.

Together we fooled around
on my iPhone — I figured that
was the easiest way for us to
stay calm. Unfortunately the
internet didn’t really work.

Instead we talked, and I hoped
our chatter would drown out the
sound of rockets exploding. In
my mind, I was counting down
the minutes, as we are advised
to stay sheltered for at least 10
minutes once the sirens sound.

These are the same sirens
that are amplified throughout
the country to honor Holocaust
survivors and victims on Yom
Hashoah. It is the same siren
we all hear a week after that for
Yom Hazikaron, to remember
the soldiers who have fallen for
the state of Israel.

About 20 minutes later, the
kids cuddled up on the twin bed
inside the mamad and, for the
second time that night, I tucked
them in. My younger son looked
relieved. “I didn’t want to have to
worry about waking up,” he said.

“I’m glad we are sleeping here.”
I was glad, too, because at 3
a.m., the sirens began again. I
went to the mamad and hugged
my boys; they asked if I could
rub their backs. One fell asleep
again almost immediately.

Again we could hear Iron Dome.

It’s now 8 a.m. in Israel as
I type this. I am bleary-eyed
and nervous, and I keep second-
guessing every noise I hear. Is
that rumble of a garbage truck?
Or is it Iron Dome? Is that a
siren in a neighboring city? Or is
it an ambulance or the noise of
my kids watching TV?
There is no in-person school
today. All Israeli schoolkids will
be learning on Zoom. They will
be discussing the situation as a
class, and we will process that
discussion afterward as a family.

In terms of what happens
next, I don’t really know. But I
am hoping for the best. l
Sharon Weiss-Greenberg is director
of education partnerships for My
Jewish Learning. This article first
appeared on Kveller.

Time to Talk About a Better Future for Israelis, Palestinians
BY LEAH SOLOMON
18 MAY 20, 2021
For the sake of Zion I will not be
My heart is with my friends
silent, for the sake of Jerusalem and family across Israel, who
I will not be still. – Isaiah 62:1 are running back and forth
from shelters or have simply
FOR THE PAST THREE given up and started putting
nights, as the rocket sirens their children to sleep in safe
blaring through Jerusalem rooms. And my heart is with
forced my children and me to parents and children in Gaza
rush to shelter — and heralded who have no shelters to run to
what we now know would be and can only sit in their homes
a massive onslaught of rocket in unsubsiding fear.

attacks by Hamas on Israel — I
My heart is sick at the senseless
have been unable to sleep.

deaths of far too many innocent
JEWISH EXPONENT
Israelis and Palestinians,
including many children. And
my heart is broken by the lynch-
ings and mob attacks by both
Palestinian Arabs and Israeli Jews
and the fracturing of society.

We can never allow ourselves
to accept as inevitable the utter
terror that Israelis are experi-
encing as they flee from hundreds
of rockets, that Palestinians
in Gaza are experiencing as
14-story apartment buildings
are bombed into smithereens,
or that Jewish and Arab citizens
across Israel are experiencing
as nationalist mobs torch cars,
burn down buildings and lynch
innocent passersby. The primary
short-term goal for every Israeli
and Palestinian leader at this
moment must be to achieve an
absolute and immediate cessa-
tion of all violence.

See Solomon, Page 27
JEWISHEXPONENT.COM