Tirana, El Al and Sirens

 

 

13th March, 2026

24th of Adar, 5786

 

Shabbat Shalom to you, to every one of you! I’m back in every sense of the word!!!

 

 “If I can turn one extremist fanatic into a moderate peacemaker, then I am satisfied that I have achieved my life goal.” Professor Mohammed Dajani Duoad.

 

Last night, as it is every night, brought the now familiar Israeli wake-up calls, a disturbingly loud “tch tch tch tch” sound over and over on one’s cellphone, a sound to ensure that one is awake to hear the siren. A sound that never becomes familiar. That’s the hatra’a, the alert that flashes onto our phones warning that missiles have left the Iranian launchers and are on their way. Only then the siren sounds on our phones and throughout the suspected trajectory area. Like everyone else, we get up and walk quickly to the mamad, the safe room, close the heavy metal door, ensure the heavy metal cover is over the window and settle down watching the news on the computer (or playing games), listening out for the booms which tell us that Iron Dome and Or Eitan have done their job. We are deeply thankful to have a mamad in our apartment and do not need to race to the public shelters, we wait for the all-clear, and then return to bed until the next interruption. If this is meant to be a war of attrition, they clearly forgot to factor in the Israeli determination to continue living a normal life, aware of where the safe area (shelter) is. Cafés remain open, restaurants full, shopping malls busy, all of them, of course, equipped with shelters. This morning I sat on the Veranda, the sky a bright blue, the sun warming the crisp air, reading the newspaper, doing my puzzles and eating breakfast while looking at my fruit trees, checking the number of limes in various stages of ripeness, carrying on with the small rituals of an ordinary morning as though nothing at all had happened - which, in its own quiet way, is an act of defiance.

 

Our allies in the Gulf region are in the same situation, undecided whether or when to retaliate. The Emirates, Saudi Arabia, Jordan, have suffered the constant battering of Iranian missiles, but the world, as usual concentrates on us, even suggesting, through careful innuendo, that we are to blame!

 

Those who are in close touch with Israeli media, know that the north of Israel has been bombarded night and day from Hezb-Allah within Lebanon having rebuilt along the ceasefire line despite UN Security Council Resolution 1701, adopted unanimously in 2006, which calls for a “permanent ceasefire, the disarmament of all armed groups (specifically Hezb-Allah), and the establishment of a buffer zone between the Litani River and the Blue Line, free of any personnel/weapons other than Lebanese state forces and UNIFIL”. Yesterday several houses were destroyed in a Bedouin village in the north of Israel by a missile from Iran, 58 people were injured. The missile was one of a barrage from Iran coordinated with missiles launched from Hezb-Allah

 

Only 43% of residents in the north of Israel have returned to their homes since the 12 day war, many homes were destroyed and the fear of constant barrages from Lebanon is a further deterrent. They are beyond angry that money that should have gone to rebuild their homes, towns, villages in this week’s budget, has gone to those who do not serve in the IDF and don’t even recognise the State of Israel. If we are not very careful we will lose the north of Israel, and, with the constant increase of Bedouin wives imported from Gaza, the south too.

 

Is Mayor Mamdani a proud American or defender of the Caliphate? “Today's military strikes by the United States and Israel mark a catastrophic escalation in an illegal act of war aggression.” His position is terrifying, and I cannot believe that Jews voted for him! I’m sorry, I know that it is not my business but the man is dangerous and his wife more so. His wife “liked” a claim that October 7^th was a fabrication!!!

 

Alternatively in the UK, The British Home Secretary, Shabana Mahmood, has approved a request by MP Sarah Sackman and the Metropolitan Police to ban the Al Quds Day Rally  "I expect to see the full force of the law applied to anyone spreading hatred and division instead of exercising their right to peaceful protest." 

 

Where were we over the last couple of weeks? Zvi and I decided to go to Albania so that Zvi could have expert dental treatment in an amazing modern clinic! Until we flew there, I didn’t even know where Albanie was or that it’s on the Aegean Sea. We took a wonderful walking tour through the centre of Tirana, and learned what a fascinating society it is, with a rich and complex history. After centuries of occupation, under the Ottoman Empire and the cruel communist rule of Hoxha (pronounced Hoja), Albania has emerged as a remarkably tolerant and kindly society. There is no official religion: roughly 45% of the population identify as moderate Muslims, about 25% are Russian Orthodox, 20% Catholic, and the rest follow a mixture of other faiths or none at all. One hardly sees a hijab; miniskirts are far more common, and the Italian influence is everywhere. Italian is a second language and the local food reflects it, excellent pizzas and pasta on every corner. Albania, or what we managed to see, is a country coming out of the poverty of a cruel communist regime.  Tirana shows both sides, fabulous new architecture, crumbling Soviet style housing; wide open squares and narrow passages. Lovely people, warm and tolerant, open to all as only those who suffered themselves can be. It’s become a popular holiday destination for Israelis and I’m told that the mountains and lakes are exquisite.

 

Purim in Habad was fun! Habad is housed in a pseudo-castle and the festivities included a speech by the community leader and, of course, Zvi met an old friend from his Maccabi days, Damian Brickman. The Rabbi insisted that Zvi give a little speech, and there was dancing and singing; it was fun!

 

War broke out a couple of days after our arrival in Tirana and after the week’s dental treatement, we did everything we could to get a flight home. In the end, El Al contacted us to go to their rescue hub, Athens.  We flew from Tirana to Athens, and then the cavalry arrived. El Al truly is the most extraordinary airline in the world. Tell me another airline whose crew will willingly fly into a war zone to bring their people home. They sent a Dreamliner to Athens so they could triple the number of passengers, took us to Ben Gurion Airport, changed crews, and immediately flew back to collect more Israelis. As we boarded, the crew hugged us, actually the truth is that I asked for a hug and they all came and hugged me, I was so emotional that I was going home. When we landed, they wished us a safe return home. We arrived at our door at three in the morning, relieved beyond belief to walk in to the familiar.

 

Nothing has ever felt quite so good as our own bed, our own shower and our own kitchen. I couldn’t be bothered to go out for bread, so I simply baked some. The washing was done next morning, the bags unpacked, and after a brief collapse into sleep our wonderful neighbours appeared. The downstairs neighbour with pashdida, the upstairs neighbour with vegetables and chocolate cake. I had soup waiting in the freezer, and Zvi made me scrambled eggs. A great relief after my only real complaint about Albania? The hotel breakfast served cold fried eggs, a crime no civilisation should tolerate.

 

While in Tirana, something incredible happened. Stranded in Albania, walking down a street in Tirana with someone from our group, making conversation, he asked where I was from. “Motza Illit,” I said “Where are you from? “Petah Tikva.” He responded. “We have a few friends in Petah Tikva.” “Who?” he asked. “Yaffa and Moshe Boosany. They live on Bayliss Road.” He stopped walking. His jaw quite literally dropped. He stared at me for a moment and then said slowly, “That’s my sister.” He was Kinneret Chaya’s Uncle Natan! Of all the streets in Tirana, of all the people in a tour group of strangers, we had somehow ended up walking side by side. We immediately took a selfie and sent it to Yaffa and Kinneret Chaya, followed by video calls much to their amazement. I could hardly stand; my legs went wobbly and I found myself somewhere between tears and joy. I showed him photos from over the years and the video of Kinneret Chaya speaking so beautifully at my 80^th birthday party. It was one of those small miracles that seem to follow Israelis wherever in the world we happen to be.

 

On Monday I had a very Israeli experience. I went to Shaare Zedek Hospital for a regular checkup, obviously checking that non-urgent visits were still happening. “Of course”, said the receptionist “We are waiting for you” I left home giving myself plenty of time to find parking, usually a 45 minute search in both the huge outside and the even bigger underground car park. At Rachel’s request, I headed straight for the underground car park expecting to go down the spiralled drive down some 8 floors, hoping to find an empty space. To my utter amazement it was a sea of green lights! I decided to go down to a space next to the lift (elevator) but wait, there was a barrier across from floor 2 to the rest of the car park. The penny dropped, everything from floor 2 down had been turned into hospital wards!  Shaare Zedek is just one of almost all Israeli hospitals that have gone underground, protecting its patients from the bombardment. On Tuesday I met with my lovely friend Gila in the coffee shop on our estate, an absolute joy and two minutes from our homes.

 

Yesterday I received a call from a dear friend in Sydney, Australia. His dismay was obviously for what we are currently undergoing but most of all, he is dismayed at his own country. Jews predominantly arrived in Australia after the Holocaust, survivors, as far as they could from Europe, and they built their lives anew, faithful to their adoptive country, those who are successful in business give back to society in museums, hospitals, many, many charitable causes survive through the philanthropy and pride of Australian Jews. Their love and trust has been betrayed, their government doesn’t protect them and sadly they are not alone in the world because it is happening in a country near you. Just yesterday an attack on Temple Israel in West Bloomfield Township, had been carried out by Ayman Mohamad Ghazali, Lebanese, who entered the United States on a visa issued to foreign-born spouses of U.S. citizens.

 

It's nearly Shabbat, just a few hours to get everything ready. Tonight our lovely friends Merle and Frank Friedman are coming for supper. I’m delighted to say that they will be our neighbours! Zvi is about to go to his parliament, the third since our return. They don’t meet in the Botanical Gardens when Iran decides to disturb their discussions, they meet in our local shopping mall where there is a shelter should the siren go off. I can already tell you what discussions will take place, the budget! The fact that soldiers, miluimnikim families are fight to survive financially yet the budget has given 5 billion shekels to the Haredi parties. I know some of you don’t like my mentioning it, but it is breaking us apart.

 

Back to being positive! The joy of being home is indescribable. We feel safe here, we know that everything has been done to ensure our safety. For many years now all new builds must have either individual mamads or shelters and anyway, this is home! More and more I realise that the only truly safe place for Jews is here in Israel, but more of that next week.

 

Shabbat will start with lighting the Shabbat Candles, with the prayer and a private moment of contemplation and the prayer that the light from the candles will bring light to our confused world; Zvi’s beautiful kiddush, the blessing over the challah (special bread) and then food. Starting with “Orange soup”, a delicious vegetable soup made of orange vegetables and leeks; chicken with roast potatoes, cauliflower and broccoli, followed by pears poached in wine. We have so much to talk about, especially their exciting new apartment!

 

Music, yesterday I went to my “Mind and Movement” group and what started as a tentative attempt at moving to music (in the  middle we danced our way into the shelter!!) we all began to feel the music and move to release all our worries and tensions. Fabulous.

 

First is the new Israeli entry to the Eurovision Song Contest. I still haven’t decided if it’s a winner and I wish they had chosen a different name, but you judge for yourselves. Noam Bettan sings in Hebrew, English, French and Arabic. Michelle. https://youtu.be/xWCnWSoG8nI?si=Cauc3kGNtoG4IMZn

 

Vehi Sheamda is a prayer said on Pesach (Passover, Pascha) here you hear Daniel Weiss and YStuds. https://youtu.be/fY1wgTq9SRM?si=uC7sLozkDw5IFBAs  The meaning? In every generation since the beginning of time they have risen up against us but the Almighty saves us each time

 

The prayer for the IDF, for our soldiers, always brings me to tears and the superb voice of Natanel Hershik together with the Maccabeats is the ultimate. It was recorded when Benny Gantz was Minister of Defence.  https://youtu.be/uL-yEVU18Cc?si=oWzDmEIA-SxaIaHu

 

We are home, I am making Shabbat, we will survive, this and all attempts to wipe us out. We are strong as long as we unite, as long as we believe, as long as we keep our spirits high

With all our love from Jerusalem and our beautiful “View from My Veranda”

Sheila

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

From Bet Zayit to Teheran

 

20^th February, 2026

 

Shabbat Shalom, Ramadan Kreem, I hope you had a good Shrove Tuesday and are prepared for Lent.

 

As you know, I love to begin my missives with a wise quote, usually, Churchill, Oscar Wilde, Mark Twain or GBS, but today I found the perfect quote for our times from Tolstoy.

“The most difficult subjects can be explained to the most slow-witted man if he has not formed any idea of them already; but the simplest thing cannot be made clear to the most intelligent man if he is firmly persuaded that he knows already, without a shadow of doubt, what is laid before him.”

 

Surely the ideal of an open mind is most lacking from society throughout the world, wherever we may be, we have the mistaken belief that we are right. Perhaps it’s true, perhaps our way is the least wrong, but sometimes seeing the view of the other, no matter how much we disagree, can prevent not only arguments but war. It is the conviction that there is no way, no road, no path other than the one we have set out for ourselves that creates the trajectory to war.

 

Once again, the Western world stands at the edge of something it barely dares to name. The shadow of the Bay of Pigs hangs heavily, that same sense of miscalculation, of dangerous certainty masking deeper chaos. But this time it is not simply United States facing Russia. The lines are blurred, loyalties obscured, and the true alliances hidden behind diplomacy and denial. Iran is cast, rightly, as the obvious threat, yet behind it stand China and Qatar, the latter small in size but vast in influence, shaping events in ways the complacent world prefers not to see, but will soon be forced to confront.

 

Talks continue but all options are still on the table. An armada of American warships and aircraft carriers are closing in on the region. The largest American aircraft carrier is the USS Gerald R. Ford at 1,106 feet long, displaces 100,000 tons, it can carry more than 75 to 90 aircraft has now joined the fleet. A major war is not inevitable but the anticipation is worrying, not just for this region but we must fear the supporters of Iran throughout the world who may well wake up from their “sleeper” position.

 

At the inaugural meeting of the “Board of Peace”, President Donald Trump pledged $17 billion ($10 from the USA and $7 from other participants) to rebuild the Gaza Strip. Security arrangements will involve Egypt and Palestinian representatives, and foreign forces intended to replace Israeli troops. It is a promise, a lifeline to the many generations whose leaders have taught them that their only alternative is war and terror. History has proven that money alone cannot heal a broken society, that alongside the ruins of buildings stands the loss of childhood itself, shaped by years of conflict, fury, grievance and dependence on aid and worst of all the teaching of hatred, rather than the chance to build independent lives. Billions can rebuild physical walls, but unless they also rebuild hope, education and the possibility of a future, the broken society will remain. 

 

The situation within parts of the Haredi community feels as though it has reached breaking point. It is no longer only about demonstrations that bring cities to a standstill or the venom directed at the police; this week it descended into something far more painful. Two young female soldiers, in appropriate, skirted uniform, went to visit a Haredi recruit who was frightened to walk his own streets because he had enlisted in the IDF. They were attacked by a venomous crowd of men and the police had to rescue them. Whatever one’s views on enlistment, this is a moment of profound distress. When fear replaces solidarity and intimidation replaces argument, something essential in our shared fabric begins to tear. All we ask is that the weight of defending the only Jewish State be shared, that this sector enlists in some form and works to pay taxes that support the essentials of society; we have never asked that they abandon Torah Study because we are after all a Jewish State, but simply to be a relevant and active part of our society.

 

All of those arrested have been released. In the same vein, Bezalel Smotrich has announced that he does not believe that females, in particular his own daughter, should serve in the IDF.

 

“The Eighth Front: The Battle for Western Civilization,” was held in Nashville, Tennessee. A large group of influencers, famous and less so, Jewish and Christian, addressed a problem that is facing most sectors of society, not merely another conference in support of Israel but a declaration of a much broader arena of struggle. Sagiv Assulin, a former Mossad agent, says, “Today, we face a very large wave of antisemitism, anti-Westernism, anti-Western values, anti-democracy, and anti-everything the West represents. This wave is occurring across Europe and within the US, using Israel, Zionism, and Judaism as tools to harm the entire Western world. In 1897, Theodor Herzl established the First Zionist Congress in response to a huge wave of antisemitism in Europe. In 2026, I conceived the idea to establish a non-Jewish Zionist Congress to confront this wave.”

 

After Netanyahu’s recent visit to the USA and talks with President Trump the question of his pardon suddenly came up! Surely not a coincidence but this time the American President verbally attacked our President Herzog for not granting a pardon. Here’s a reality check. Israelis follow the rule of law, a law which requires pardons be granted only after a defendant has been declared guilty and expresses regret for his actions. I know that I speak for myself and not for all Israelis, but we really resent the interference in a complex and disturbing series of events that are now being decided in an ongoing trial. Whether or not the demand came after a conversation with Netanyahu we will never know, but when one is ignorant of the severity of the charges of corruption and worse that face Netanyahu, one should not interfere in the legal process of another INDEPENDENT country. Yes, we are grateful for our alliance with the USA but still abide by our own laws.

 

Lucy Aharish is Israeli. She is an exceptional journalist who presents a daily news programme. Lucy Aharish is an Israel, Arab, Moslem who grew up in Jaffa of parents who understood the importance of being part of the society one grows up in. Lucy Aharish is one of our greatest proponents and her gentle but determined journalistic style is exceptional. Lucy married an actor, an Israeli Jewish actor, Tsachi Halevi, who’s father is an 8^th generation Israeli, and served many weeks of Miluim having rushed to serve after October 7^th. Of late Lucy has come under verbal attack and threats because she supports equal rights for Arab Israelis. I apologise Lucy, I admire you and am furious with those who dare to vilify you, remember that most of us stand by you, love you and understand you.

 

At the risk of sounding a little odd, I love receiving the notice telling me that a parcel awaits in the Bet Zayit Post Office! It isn’t the anticipation of receipt but rather the short drive to our adjacent village. The drive down our winding road, remember thanks to the hairpin bends it’s called the Seven Sisters, and then at the bottom of the hill, turn right at the roundabout and then right again toward Bet Zayit. As I pass the entrance to the promenade alongside the reservoir, my excitement grows as the plethora of pink and white blossoms come into sight! Hundreds of almond trees, shkediot, surrounded by pink wild cyclamen and the bright scarlet spots of calaniot, or anemones. It is breathtaking!  I love it! Actually we’ll see it tomorrow as we head off to hear a lecture by Or Heller, the exceptional war correspondent of Israel Channel 13 followed by a wonderful Shabbat lunch with the Voss family, Sharon and Ernst.

 

Since we are talking about Sharon, she and I went to the potential women’s parliament in the Moreshet Coffee Shop. We met up with my lovely neighbours Yael and Ika and chatted about our park before returning to English while I took her on a mini-tour of the exquisite Big House. We met up with two young men, both miluimnikim, who were setting up for a big event to initiate an organisation for men and women who have done reserve duty in Gaza and beyond, to help them find work, study and a new path in life after the IDF. Of course, we got chatting and I discovered something wonderful about Sharon; Sharon was a social worker who upon retirement (maybe before) helped those with PTSD respond to sewing. I know that when I sew, I feel a sense of achievement and calm so it is logical that it will do the same for those in need of both, irrespective of male or female.

 

This was a full week, a busy week, between visiting sick friends, trying to arrange an agreement concerning parking in our estate, and managing to spend time with Rachel! Zvi has been very busy between his parliaments, choirs, grandchildren and meetings….but yesterday evening we collected our friends Merle and Frank Friedman from their future home and headed off on my favourite route, albeit in the dark, to Bet Zayit and “Derech haGefen” restaurant. "Derech HaGefen" (דרך הגפן) translates from Hebrew as "The Way of the Vine" or "Path of the Vine," from the Jewish blessing for wine. It is used to describe a spiritual path in Judaism or the agricultural/ritual journey of making wine but in this case it is the source of fabulous food!

 

I am afraid that you will have to do without the newsletter next week, we are off to Albania in the hope that we will not have a problem coming home. Don’t worry, we fly El Al! I’ll miss you, but I just can’t write on my phone and I don’t have a laptop! I want to leave you with music and sweet thoughts, so here goes!

 

Uziya Zadok came to fame when he was a child with a beautiful boy tenor voice. He’s now grown up but for me this song, this voice of innocence, tell a tale of hope. The song, You’re not Alone, Ata lo Levad. https://youtu.be/lv-bqvfIHek?si=VpGzsRbsahDtKl_q

 

Omer Adam is a popular Israeli singer, that I happen to love! This song is about the week of normal life and the excitement that Friday brings, Friday when the Almighty finished his work and found it to be good. https://youtu.be/yI73P4c6vlQ?si=Of2RLkhoJTzPGWwr

 

Legendary Israeli singer, composer, and producer Matti Caspi passed away on Sunday, February 8, 2026, at the age of 76. Known as one of the most influential figures in Israeli music, he composed and produced over a thousand songs during his long career. This song expresses both love and the sadness that he carried with him. https://youtu.be/7Rjg3we1-2c?si=-em5b-sfifeqc1Xi

 

Here we are, yet another Shabbat in front of us, Shabbat, Sabbath, Sabt, a day of rest and peace, although tomorrow and maybe many tomorrows the threat of war hangs over us. Nonetheless, it is a day of rest, it is a day in which we can appreciate what we have, our family, a roof over our head, be it small or large, friends, food and prayer, the sun is shining today and the trees are swaying in the breeze. I have my freedom, which is more than most countries and maybe, perhaps, the threat today is more on the freedom of ordinary Iranians than anything else.

 

I wish you Shabbat Shalom, health, love and good news, good news on every level.

 

Shabbat Shalom and much love from atop a hill in the Jerusalem Hills

Sheila

 

 

 

 

 

 

Yisrael, Haya and Snir

 

13^th February, 2026

 

Shabbat Shalom to each and every one and Ramadan Mubarak for Tuesday. I hope someone has ignored the fact that St Valentine was an antisemite and has chosen to be romantic! Friday 13^th doesn’t worry me, 13 is good luck in Judaism.

 

This week I had intended to give you the usual news rundown, but apart from a very few worthy items I have a story to tell a story that is more important than the most gripping of news.

 

First and foremost, on Monday, I drove to Herzliya Pituach for a truly uplifting meeting of the Israel British and Commonwealth Association, led by the Chairperson, Melvin Berwald. Dan Kosky, an indispensable part of the IMPACT-se team since his Aliya, spoke with clarity and conviction about our work and the measurable progress being made in advancing tolerance in education across our region, with a few notable exceptions.

 

At the insistence of the Prime Minister’s Office, the word “massacre” has been excised from the title of a bill establishing an annual commemoration of the 7 October Hamas attack. Bereaved families are incandescent. They accuse the Netanyahu government of attempting to launder language in order to blunt the truth — and, with it, responsibility. Equally, the terrible situation of crime and killings in the Arab sector has been exacerbated by two simultaneous situations. Ben Gvir has repealed the committee of Israeli Arabs to prevent crime and criminals and terrorists have infiltrated from the disputed areas.

 

King's College London, the famous College of the University of London, showed a screening of the bearing witness to the October the 7th Massacre, the first time it has been shown to a public audience. 

 

I had planned to reflect on the unpredictable and often disconcerting reality of our current situation and why the Prime Minister has returned yet again for a meeting with the President of the United States, presumably to discuss the impending attacks by the Ayatollahs and why the visit our President, President Herzog to Australia, to stand by the families of Australians who were killed in an attack on Australian soil, is considered, by some, as controversial.  Instead, I want to tell you a very Israeli story.

 

At the centre of our estate stands a remarkable building, once the convalescent home for members of Israel’s only union in the early years of the state. It is clad with Jerusalem stone, its architecture inspired by the White House. When we first moved here, we were told it would one day become a community centre. For years it stood beautiful but empty, as though waiting for its true purpose. Now it has found its calling as a Wellness Centre for those living with the physical and psychological aftershocks of the 7^th of October 2023. In truth, almost everyone in Israel carries the sadness of that day, but for Nova survivors, for those who ran for their lives that morning, and for soldiers who saw what no human being should ever see and returned from Gaza, the trauma does not sit lightly. It burrows deep. It alters the air they breathe. It threatens the soul itself.

 

On Wednesday morning my dear friend and neighbour Gila invited me for coffee at the new café that has opened inside the centre, just two minutes’ walk from our home. As we sat talking, the young barman drew my attention. There was something about him, as though he were fully present and yet carrying an enormous weight just beneath the surface. He had a soft face, long hair tied back in a ponytail. His tzitzit (ritual fringes on the corners of men’s undershirts) were visible beneath his sweatshirt, yet he wore no kippah which somehow felt deliberate, and it drew me to ask who he was and what had brought him here.

 

The centre and café, he told us, were the brainchild of himself, his sister Haya and their friend Snir. His name is Yisrael.

 

When I asked about the name “Café Moreshet”, moreshet means heritage, and what had led them to create a Wellness Centre, and what his connection was to 7 October, he did not hesitate. He didn’t dramatise or embellish his story, he spoke with the quiet urgency of someone who has been holding his breath for too long and can no longer do so. We listened without interruption, allowing his pauses to linger, understanding that the spaces between his words were as heavy as the words themselves.

He and several friends had been among the organisers of the Nova Festival. Everything had been done properly, police permission, IDF coordination, local authority approval. They prepared and cared for the site on Thursday and Friday; another company was due to take over on Friday night. Exhausted, they went to sleep intending to rise at 6:00 am to oversee the handover. For reasons none of them can explain, they overslept.

 

At 06:29, 3,700 missiles were launched at Israel. Thousands of terrorists broke through the fence between Gaza and the small communities killing, burning and raping and began the slaughter at the Nova Peace Festival. Yisrael had slept through the worst disaster Israel had ever known. When he repeated the time, six twenty-nine, his voice changed. He said it quietly, as though it were engraved somewhere inside him. He, Snir and Haya lost many friends that morning. He did not recite their names, but their absence was palpable, filling the air around us. “I keep thinking,” he said softly, “if we had been there…” The sentence trailed away, he didn’t need to finish it. The implication that perhaps they might have done something, changed something, saved someone hung in the air like a heavy weight.

 

The survivor’s guilt was not abstract; it was crushing. He returned home and shut himself in his room, barely emerging for a year. PTSD did not come as shouting or visible breakdown; it came as numbness, paralysis, an endless replaying of a morning he had not witnessed yet could not escape. He searched obsessively for a moment that might have altered the course of events, a different instinct, a different choice. There was no self-pity in his telling and no attempt to excuse himself. There was only a pain so clear that all we could do was bear witness to it.

 

Slowly, he said, an idea began to take shape. If he could not undo that day, perhaps he could help others survive what followed it. The Wellness Centre was not conceived as a business venture; it was born of necessity. He needed somewhere to go, a reason to leave his room, a structure that demanded his presence when he felt least capable of giving it. Together with Haya and Snir he searched for a space, and when the local council suggested the old convalescent home, they walked through its doors and knew. The light filtering through the windows, the quiet dignity of the building, its history as a place of healing felt almost providential. Their father has guaranteed the funding for the first year, an act of profound faith in his children and in their fragile but determined vision. After that they are on their own, sustained only by commitment, courage and the conviction that this place must exist.

 

Today the centre offers therapy sessions, workshops, breathing groups, conversation and coffee. But what it truly offers is something far rarer: permission. Permission to say, “I am not coping.” Permission to speak of what haunts the night. Permission to sit across from someone who will not flinch. Yisrael tells his story because silence almost destroyed him, and with each telling the weight shifts, if only slightly. Each person who walks through those Jerusalem stone doors seeking help becomes part of his own fragile healing.

 

Before we left, I asked him about the tzitzit and the absence of a kippah. He gave a wry, almost shy smile. The tzitzit, he said, are his way of thanking the Almighty for being alive; the absence of the kippah is because the Nova massacre happened and he lost so many friends. In that simple explanation lay gratitude and rupture intertwined, faith expressed, faith wounded. And in that moment, we realised that the building at the centre of our estate is doing exactly what it was always meant to do: accepting pain and bringing hope within its walls, and allowing broken hearts, slowly and imperfectly, to mend.

 

The story is so Israeli, although not exclusively so. There are people around the world who fought in many wars and suffer the emotional consequences but here, army veterans with PTSD do not beg for food on the streets, they are our heroes and although some slip through the net, they are few. We treasure them, we do everything in our power to give them succour.

 

Yisrael, Haya and Snir took their immeasurable pain and turned it into a place of healing. That is their story and that is Israel’s story. I see soldiers without limbs running in international sports through the care of rehabilitation and now they also have a place for their emotional rehabilitation through gentle love.

 

A change of mood and direction!

 

Did you know that Israel has a bob-sled team in the Winter Olympics? Not only do we have a bob-sled team but one of our team is a Druze, the first ever Druze to compete in the Olympics. Wared Fawarsy, who is making history as the first Druze to represent Israel in the Olympics, was a passionate lover of rugby who owned his own sports club when A J Edelman, the Israeli team leader, sent him an Instagram suggesting he join the “Shul Runnings” team. Shul Runnings comes of course from the movie about the Jamaican bob-sled team, no less unlikely than Shul Runnings (shul being Yiddish for synagogue). 5 Jews, one Druze and a Shiba Inu dog!!!

 

A tree is framed in the window right in front of me as I write to you, an almond blossom, the famous shkedia, its pale pink blossom heralding spring. As I drove to Herzliya the puff balls of shkediot on the hillsides gave my journey a special feel, especially as I came to the junction between Herzliya and Kfar Shmeriyahu and saw the enormous Israeli flag flying gently in the breeze. What a welcome! Talking of fruits, no matter how many kumquats I pick to give to friends, the tree is still laden. Limes aplenty, oranges and a tree full of tiny lemons (if anyone knows the name of these sweet and juicy little lemons please tell me). All of the above are barely as tall as Zvi except for the fejoya. I can see the tiny sunbird darting about in the shekdia, enjoying the feast of sweet blossom. I love this season of hope and new growth, hope that we will find solutions to the multiple problems of the world while enjoying the beauty of new growth.

 

For no particular reason I love this song, especially the singers. B’derech shelcha – Your way or your route, sung by soldiers of the IDF. https://youtu.be/ybJgDpCGG8o?si=4AbS2iiyQVu66EsA  

 

In Judaism we are taught that each morning, as we wake, we thank the Almighty for giving us back our soul. Giving thanks is not a matter of religious observance, this prayer is simply thanks for giving us one more day. Omer Adam with Modeh Ani  https://youtu.be/npRw36_Ftmc?si=HDSpDxXWzt_HbJG3 

 

Again to Omer Adam singing the most appropriate song for today, Friday, Yom Shishi. https://youtu.be/yI73P4c6vlQ?si=-uagM-5krgR3R6P4

 

That’s it! Today Zvi will head off to his parliament and I will go to see Rachel. Tonight we are just us, the two of us and tomorrow we will listen to a lecture by Or Heller, definitely one of the most informative military  journalist in Israel from where we can walk to Shabbat lunch with our lovely friends Sharon and Ernst Voss. In the meantime dear friends, take care of yourselves, stand tall and proud, never bend to bullying.

 

Shabbat Shalom and much love from the Jerusalem Hills

Sheila

 

 

From Herzl to Herzog

 

6^th February, 2026

19^th Shvat, 5786

 

Shabbat Shalom. I hope that this missive finds you all well, after all where would I be without you to tell you of our worries and joys?

 

The stand-off we are living through, between a power defined by scale, technology and modernity and another driven by religious absolutism, brings to mind the early Cold War in unsettling ways; indeed, I can’t get it out of my mind. Those of a certain age remember the Kennedy years: history seemed to hold its breath as families watched the news on their black-and-white televisions or sat close to their radios, waiting to hear whether the world would slide into catastrophe. Today feels eerily familiar. Allies are aligned, ships and aircraft are in position, troops on standby, prepared for war while fervently hoping that their acts of deterrence hold. When the immediate danger passed, Kennedy issued a warning rather than a reassurance, observing that “the complacent, the self-indulgent, the soft societies are about to be swept away with the debris of history”. It is a sentence that resonates with even greater force now.

 

I’m Israeli-British and I have to admit that the Super Bowl doesn’t have the same ring as the Ashes (cricket) or the 6 Nations (rugby), but I realise that it is a major cultural event in the United States and that advertisements shown during the game are of paramount importance. That is why Robert Kraft’s Blue Square Alliance ad is so important; it emphasises the unthinking cruelty of antisemitism and reaches those who would never consider watching something that reaches so deeply into American society.  The advertisement points out that a terrifying 2 out of 3 Jewish American schoolchildren have encountered antisemitism  https://youtu.be/YgOkCFGNeTE?si=cEfIiEQzGo0n-bAg

 

Every single day this year, an Israeli Arab under the age of 30 has been killed in criminal violence. This is not a statistic; it is a national emergency. The government’s inaction has been deafening, leaving entire communities exposed and lives treated as disposable. That is why Israeli Arabs and Jews are now standing together in quiet demonstrations, demanding action, real policing, real protection, and real accountability. Silence is no longer neglect; it is complicity.

 

Something is profoundly wrong in the way a small group of young extremists are interpreting Judaism. Their actions bear no relation to Jewish teaching or values and, in their cruelty and extremism, disturbingly resemble the methods of Islamist terrorists. The so-called Hilltop Youth are attacking ordinary people Arab farmers, goatherders, Bedouin and villagers, burning homes and vehicles, assaulting individuals, stealing livestock and destroying olive groves. This is not religious devotion; it is lawlessness dressed up as faith, and it should trouble anyone who cares about Judaism, justice or the rule of law. Again, the inaction of the police is complicit with their inexorable behaviour.

 

I have a question that should trouble every right-thinking human being. Where is the outrage from the self-appointed, armchair champions of human rights when the Iranian regime murders thousands of its own people? Where were they when a Syrian despot slaughtered half a million of his citizens? Who marches for the Igbo, the Kurds, or Nigerian Christians? Where are the crowds who deface monuments, chant slogans, and scream fury, especially those who cannot even name the river or the sea they shout about? The answer is painfully simple: none of these crimes involve Israel or Jews. Their supposed concern for human rights collapses under the weight of its own dishonesty. What remains is not compassion, but a prejudice so deeply embedded that it blinds them to every atrocity except the one that allows them to indulge their antisemitism.

 

While Qatar presents itself as an “honest broker” in the region, a new IMPACT-se report shows that for the fourth consecutive year its school textbooks remain unchanged, steeped in antisemitism, jihad, the glorification of martyrdom, hostility to non-Muslims, and the denial of Israel’s right to exist. The US State Department’s 2024 Report on International Religious Freedom explicitly condemned this material, citing IMPACT-se, yet Qatar simply reprinted the same books. This toxic culture is reflected at the highest level: Qatar’s current education minister publicly mourned senior Hamas leaders. Even as Qatari children are taught hatred at home, Qatar markets itself to the gullible West as a responsible diplomatic and economic partner, pouring billions into US education, the largest foreign funder, in a deeply troubling contradiction.

Yesterday I drove to Givat Ze’ev to spend some time with Rachel. The journey should be a pleasure: the road is easy, the views extraordinary, Jerusalem spread out below as you pass Samuel’s Tomb, from which, they say, you can see not only the fabulous panorama of Jerusalem but all the way to the sea. And then my mood changes. As the road drops towards Givat Ze’ev, Ramallah and its sprawling suburbs press into the hills, vast building projects rising unchecked right up to the fence, well past the imposed no man’s land. The contrast is jarring, and infuriating. On our side of the fence, even the smallest construction is endlessly scrutinised and condemned by countries that have never bothered to come here to see what is actually happening. Such hypocrisy simply plays into the hands of the Palestinian Authority.

 

Young Israelis have a tendency to set off on their travels after their army service or Sherut Leumi (public service). No European Culture tours for them, they set off on adventures in South America (the favourite), Thailand, Vietnam and other wonderful new experiences. My granddaughter, Talia, is off on her adventure, intending to travel around South America where Habad provides housing and food all over the continent. As one does, I decided to let one of my favourite people know that Talia was going to be in Panama and I was absolutely blown away by the open house that Sally and Gabriel Safdie provided to Talia and even a few of her friends. Such warmth and generosity is rare and our gratitude absolute. Sally is the epitome of “Eshet Chayil” “Woman of Valour" or "Woman of Strength." Originating from Proverbs, it is a poem praising a woman for her wisdom, kindness, industriousness, and strength, rather than just domestic virtue. Most of all she has become a trusted friend to Talia.

 

Zvi and I decided to go for a walk. We were rushed off our feet this week but nonetheless, seeing the number of cars parked near the path to the now overflowing reservoir we felt there must be something extraordinary to see. We set off, crossing the winding road to our home; actually I must digress, partly because I haven’t done so in this missive and partly because it is important to the story. OK Let me start again from the beginning. The village of Motza, the current one not the thousands of years old settlement, consisted of just a few farmers when Theordore Herzl came to enjoy the pure air with his friend David Woolfson, and the road that ran through the village, which was also the road or rather route to Jerusalem barely existed. As time went on and the village grew the road and its winding, hair-pin bends took on the name of Sheva Achiot, or seven sisters due to the seven aforementioned hairpins. Now back to the intended walk. We crossed Sheva Achiot and went through the gate to the somewhat rocky path, with me hanging on to Zvi to keep myself steady. The path was covered in almond trees, their fragrant blossom lifting our spirits and among the rocks at the side were beautiful pink Rakafot (wild cyclamen). We passed other walkers, always greeting each other with a “Shalom isn’t it wonderful” until we came to the vista point. Funny really, it has become famous after being chosen as one of Israel’s most beautiful views, but it just consists of an old rusty bench under the shade of fir trees. It really is stunning, to sit there, a light breeze catching the movement of the trees and lo and behold, the lake below us. The rains of the last few weeks have filled the reservoir, overflowing the dam and providing a view from a place of complete peace. It is worth the difficult (for me) walk just to sit and find a quietness in the green and beautiful view, knowing that there is still a place for sanity in this world.

 

On Monday the residents of Motza Illit were paid a visit by President Isaac “Bougie” Herzog to plant his tree in the Avenue of Presidents right under our veranda, appropriately because Monday was Tu b’Shvat, the 15^th day of the Hebrew month of Shvat and the New Year for Trees. Almost all the Presidents of Israel have trees planted in the Avenue of the Presidents, following in the footsteps of Theordore Herzl and David Woolfson because planting a tree represents hope for the future and expresses a sense of permanency and intimacy with the land. The initial planting represented threat to Haj Amin al Husseini, who later supported Hitler, that the “King of the Jews” had planted a tree and under cover of night he cut the tree down and the stump remains. The founder of  Bezalel Academy of Arts and Design , Professor Boris Shatz, decided to recover the trunk of the tree and give it a formal burial. Sadly nobody knows where it is buried so that story remains legend. My goodness I made up for the former lack of diversion!  The festivities began in the beautiful “Big House” which is now a wellness clinic, started by a mother who lost her child on October 7^th. We sat in the beautiful theatre as the President spoke and received a framed award and then enjoyed refreshments (of course) before walking down the steps to the planting.

 

An exciting week, and one in which music, as always, played a huge part. It isn’t just the fact that Zvi sings in two choirs, his beautiful, rich bass baritone in demand, for me music is memories, music brings back so many wonderful events and family gatherings that I don’t think I could manage without it. My car has suddenly discovered Spotify, how only heaven knows, but I must say that the choice of music is strangely appropriate! Mostly 60’s I find myself singing along as I drive back and fore on the wide highway between Jerusalem and Tel Aviv.

 

The Vietnam war and the deaths of a President, his brother and a great leader for change brought out music that created social change as at no other time. I’d love to hear from you as to what your favourite music from that time, the music that was life-changing for you.

 

I can’t promise life-changing music but, as they say, if music be the food of love, play on. Music can  a vessel to express meaning  as in לַכֹּ֖ל זְמָ֑ן וְעֵ֥ת לְכָל־חֵ֖פֶץ תַּ֥חַת הַשָּׁמָֽיִם׃ in Ecclesiastes or Kohelet.

“To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven” Such simple words. https://youtu.be/n0xzyhoeu1Y?si=uZZWtGPUAw2ix3Qs

 

Even major stars serve in the IDF, some of them telling the story of how we, tiny Israel survives and thrives. https://youtu.be/M8Nz-wBEf7o?si=JPMz4EHAiG_d5c-S

 

Eretz Eretz Eretz, the land in which we were born and the land we will love as Mother and Father. Yonina with the song that says it all. https://youtu.be/fQdLxr5MH5s?si=ZpbpScnzQASKhpVt

 

Zvi has gone to his parliament in the Botanical Gardens. They certainly have a great deal to discuss, from Iran to Trump, from travels to concerns, but they discuss everything including their disagreements. This is a wonderfully open society, nothing off the table. Here at home Shabbat is in the air, literally. The aromas of many nations hits the air and brings back memories of lands of dispersion and exile, and the coming together again, the coming home. From Moroccan to Kurdish or Syrian kubbeh soup, Ashkenazi chicken soup and kneidlach, sweet chicken with dried fruit and long cooked beef which falls apart before it reaches the mouth, dishes that link to the countries of the Jewish Diaspora where Jews thrived for thousands of years until thrown out like animals, but we knew where to go, we came home.

 

Shabbat Shalom dear friends. As the Shabbat prayer says “May the Lord watch you and keep you”

Sheila