10 | OCTOBER 12 • 2023 J
N
essay
Thank You, God. It is an Honor Serving You.
D
ear God,
I don’t know what
to say so I’m just going
to start with the basics. You, of
course, know everything, all our
thoughts and feel-
ings, the comings
and goings of each
of us. What has
happened and
what will happen.
I do feel and know
You’re watching
us and loving us
during all of this.
You’ve never left us, never left
me, even when I feel desperately
alone.
I tell everyone how I talk to
You, how I started talking to You
when I was a scared teenager. That
I learned about you from reading
the translated prayer book at my
temple. I loved that book and I’m
so grateful to my parents for bring-
ing me to that place.
I talk to You in the shower, on
my walks, before and after I eat
and use the bathroom, before I
go to sleep and when I wake up.
And even occasionally in syna-
gogue, though not recently. I cry
to You when I’m scared or lonely.
Sometimes I ignore You and focus
only on my own thoughts.
The truth is most of the time I
feel painfully disconnected from
You. But somehow I know to keep
trying and to learn from others.
I know You want us to love each
other down here in this world.
I haven’t always been so good at
that. My kids say I’m spiritual. I
often carry a Book of Psalms with
me. Even though I’ve heard how
powerful those words are, I still
have to force myself to open it.
I’m often a hypocrite. I criticize
my spouse and others, including
myself. I have been jealous. I have
lied. I have been indifferent. I hav-
en’t always honored my parents or
myself as a Jewish woman.
As I sit here with my dog
and cats on my back porch, my
kids are still asleep in their beds
upstairs. I encouraged Danny to go
to the Kollel to learn and pray with
the other men there. We are also
preparing practically, researching
bomb shelters — which one can
we get to in less than two minutes?
Reading preparedness websites,
stocking up on food and water,
getting advice. It’s sort of like we
would and did in Florida when
hurricanes were coming. We sent
a video of our downstairs room to
someone to help us assess if it’s safe
to stay there.
My friends’ husbands and sons
have been called up to help protect
our beautiful land. My teenage son
is still too young for the army.
We made aliyah as a family
13 months ago. It is literally the
land promised to us by You, God.
You want us here. It’s what I’ve
learned, and somehow I know
this with my entire being, my
mind, body and soul.
It is here — this tiny piece of
land on a spinning planet in an
infinite universe — that we are
plugged in. But still I sometimes
forget my mission here. It’s so easy
to get distracted.
Nearly every page of the Tanakh
bursts with passionate descriptions
about the beauty, holiness and sig-
nificance of the Land of Israel.
It is a Land that the Lord your
God seeks out; the eyes of the
Lord your God, are always upon
it, from the beginning of the year
to the end of the year. Deuteronomy
(11:12)
I will return the captivity of my
people Israel, and they will rebuild
desolate cities and settle them.
Amos (9:14)
Now I sit here, just after the
High Holy Days when I didn’t pray
or do as much as I could have,
feeling the cool autumn breeze
with a pit in my stomach. What
is going on around me is literally
incomprehensible. But we have
once again come together as a peo-
ple, like we do in every generation.
Our people’s story is filled with not
just persecution, but also faith and
miracles.
We are here to be a light unto
the nations. But how can we know
light if there is no darkness? So, I
sort of understand.
I talk to You and I practice med-
itation. It’s hard for me — a few
deep breaths in and out and my
mind wanders. I think You laugh
at me. Maybe You want to say You
love me, that I’m enough.
I sob for the people I see in the
videos, moms and children and
others experiencing such cruelty
I literally can’t even process it. So
then after another fit of tears, I go
back to compartmentalizing.
What do you want and need
from me, God?
I hear jet after jet flying over-
head. In between there is peaceful
silence. Another deep breath.
Where are You?
People literally suffer through-
out this world every day, here
in Israel and around the world.
I know this intellectually. I hear
about it. But it’s so easy to be indif-
ferent. To focus only on myself.
Yes, my responsibility is first to me
and my children, but they must
know, we must know, that there
is an enemy, seen and unseen.
Sometimes the enemy is within
us, and sometimes it’s the scary
men with their faces covered doing
unspeakable things to our fellow
humans.
Why are we not all screaming
and crying — demanding an end
to it all? We have so much power,
much more than we realize.
The worst place to be is in
denial, to not know or to forget
that you matter. You have to pick
a team.
I want people to know they have
SO. MUCH. POWER. That send-
ing someone good thoughts and
prayers, and doing some random
act of goodness, really makes a dif-
ference. I want to tell them to open
their mouths, even if it’s the first
time ever.
No one escapes death, which is
actually the beginning. Or a new
beginning.
Here You’re so hidden from us,
God, it sometimes feels impossible
to lift the veil.
But in those beautiful,
life-changing moments when I can
hear You and actually know You’re
there…
…ah, the breeze again. The
Hebrew word for breeze is ruach.
In Hebrew, we say ruach hakodesh,
holy wind, to refer to God. It’s one
of many ways we use finite lan-
guage to refer to the Infinite, to try
to know You.
But You know all this, of course.
Soon, as my soul is set free of this
body, I will once again be reunited
with You and Your infinite loving
light.
For now, I’ll speak to You as if
I’m already there, and trust what
You’ve been telling me.
God, please keep my children
safe from harm and protect us all
during this time as we turn to you.
Ease my mother’s heart. She is
so worried. Tell her You are always
caring for me and help her to lis-
ten.
Danny has returned. We are
sitting outside together, computers
opened. Soon we will go look at
the shelters nearby and come up
with a plan.
Mindy Rubenstein is a mom, author,
artist and spiritual business consultant.
She grew up secular on the west coast of
Florida, discovered Torah Judaism as an
adult, and has spent 16+ years learning
and growing religously and spiritually. She
made aliyah in 2022 and lives in the forest
of Kiryat Tiv’on overlooking Mount Carmel.
Find here at MindyRubenstein.com.
Mindy
Rubenstein
Times of
Israel
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