I was looking up some farm volunteering requests for a friend in northern Israel when an update caught my eye.

Many thousands of Israelis have had to evacuate their homes in towns and villages close to the Lebanese border.

Many of these are farming communities and while most of the population have been displaced, a handful have stayed on to care for orchards and livestock which can't simply be moved to a safer region.

Despite the dangers from regular fire from Hizballah gunmen in southern Lebanon brave volunteers come from all over Israel to support the struggling farmers.

A few days ago a dash cam on the car of a volunteer couple from central Israel captured a fleeting glimpse of a large Iranian made anti-tank missile zooming in front of their vehicle in the northern moshav of Dovev.

Similar missiles have destroyed vehicles in the moshav, as well as causing severe damage to one of the egg laying chicken sheds, a key industry in Dovev currently relying on volunteers to function.

In some of these cross border attacks Israeli civilians have been wounded. Last month Israeli electric company workers repairing infrastructure damaged by Hizballah fire were injured by yet another anti-tank missile, one later died of his wounds. In the western Galilee a farmer was killed by another anti-tank missile while tending his orchards.

Despite the attacks though these are farms vital for Israel's food security. I've seen regular calls for help collecting eggs and caring for livestock on Dovev and people responding by asking which day or time they can come - egg collecting is ideally an early morning activity.

Today though there was a sad caveat to the call for volunteers. Due to the escalation in Hizballah attacks, including 30 rockets fired today alone in the Rosh Hanikra area of north-west Israel, the army has issued new guidelines for agricultural work in farms near the Lebanon border.

From now on they are only to work after dark, from 6pm onwards. The anti-tank missiles fired at the chicken farm in Dovev over the last week seem to have clearly been targeting the farm workers and facilities.

Photo from the Yediot Ahronot newspaper shows the chicken shed in Dovev damaged by a Hizballah anti-tank missile and photo below from Israel's Kan 11 news channel showing the fleeting dash cam image of an Iranian made anti-tank missile hurtling in to Israel.

We think of wine as a luxury product but it's just another kind of agricultural business, a farmer tending his vines and trying to earn his or her living. There are many wineries and vineyards all over Israel, with many in the northern Galilee, close to the Lebanese border in what has become a warzone since Israel was attacked on October 7th.

Hizballah has escalated their assault on Israel in recent weeks, firing anti-tank missiles across the border on a daily basis, along with larger rockets, small arms fire and regular attempts at cross border incursions in to Israel.

In kibbutz Menara and other Israeli border communities more than half the homes have sustained damage from Hizballah missiles. Kiryat Shmona, one of the larger towns in Israel's far north has likewise suffered a great deal of damage.

Just a few days ago volunteers helping to collect eggs in a northern moshav were wounded by shrapnel when a Hizballah anti-tank missile scored a direct hit on the chicken shed. A farmer in the north-west Galilee was killed by a Hizballah anti-tank missile while he checked on his orchards.

While thousands of Israelis from that region are now refugees in their own country, the farms that they tend cannot be moved and a small number of farmers have had to stay back just to ensure that someone is caring for the chickens, livestock, vineyards, orchards and fields.

Among the agricultural businesses in crisis on the northern border are Dalton winery and several other wineries located in the same agricultural industrial zone among the vineyards. Vineyards and wineries are among the facilities that have been damaged by Hizballah attacks.

Wine sounds frivolous especially in the middle of a war, but it represents the livelihoods of many Israelis who for so many weeks now have been watching their years of toil systematically destroyed by Hizballah.

Wartime Shabbat

Shabbat should be a time of joy, togetherness, peace and rest. Hamas stole that from us on the day of their brutal surprise attack on Israel, Simhat Torah Shabbat October 7th.

Since then our Shabbat preparations include setting up a radio to a special silent broadcast station that only goes on air to issue rocket alerts or emergency broadcasts.

In addition to lights in the bathrooms we make sure to leave on the lights in the shelter, just in case.

Hamas has a penchant for "surprising us" with rocket barrages aimed at different population centres each Shabbat. Last week it was Jerusalem.

Hundreds of thousands of soldiers are spending Shabbat on active duty in the warzones away from home instead of with their families. Hundreds of thousands of civilians are refugees in their own country unable to return home.

But Shabbat is still a time to be thankful, to remember the wonder of creation, to try to take time for our families, our spirit and mind.

For prayer, for hope, for remembering the endless generations before us who celebrated Shabbat in so many difficult and frightening times throughout the ages.

We are an optimistic people because despite a history so full of pain and suffering we have always survived, restored, rebuilt.

Shabbat shalom.

I've seen posts making fun of Israel for being so weak and desperate that even people in their 90s are called to the army. Such people simply don't get the volunteer can do ethos of Israel.

In the Mishnah we are told that in a time of milhemet mitzva, a war of no choice, an existential threat, even the bride and groom leave their wedding ceremony to defend the country.

בְּמִלְחֶמֶת חוֹבָה, הַכֹּל יוֹצְאִין,
אֲפִלּוּ חָתָן מֵחֶדְרוֹ וְכַלָּה מֵחֻפָּתָהּ:

This is derived from a verse in the biblical book of Joel describing how all the nation from the elderly to the nursing infants and the bride and groom from their wedding canopy come together in prayer and repentance in time of crisis, so that Hashem will restore Israel's security, both in terms of rain at its appointed time so that the crops will grow, and by removing the threats of enemy powers from Israel's borders.

טו תִּקְע֥וּ שׁוֹפָ֖ר בְּצִיּ֑וֹן קַדְּשׁוּ־צ֖וֹם קִרְא֥וּ עֲצָרָֽה׃ טז אִסְפוּ־עָ֞ם קַדְּשׁ֤וּ קָהָל֙ קִבְצ֣וּ זְקֵנִ֔ים אִסְפוּ֙ עֽוֹלָלִ֔ים וְיֹֽנְקֵ֖י שָׁדָ֑יִם יֵצֵ֤א חָתָן֙ מֵֽחֶדְר֔וֹ וְכַלָּ֖ה מֵֽחֻפָּתָֽהּ׃ יז בֵּ֤ין הָֽאוּלָם֙ וְלַמִּזְבֵּ֔חַ יִבְכּוּ֙ הַכֹּ֣הֲנִ֔ים מְשָֽׁרְתֵ֖י יְהוָ֑ה וְֽיֹאמְר֞וּ ח֧וּסָה יְהוָ֣ה עַל־עַמֶּ֗ךָ וְאַל־תִּתֵּ֨ן נַחֲלָֽתְךָ֤ לְחֶרְפָּה֙ לִמְשָׁל־בָּ֣ם גּוֹיִ֔ם לָ֚מָּה יֹֽאמְר֣וּ בָֽעַמִּ֔ים אַיֵּ֖ה אֱלֹֽהֵיהֶֽם׃ יח וַיְקַנֵּ֥א יְהוָ֖ה לְאַרְצ֑וֹ וַיַּחְמֹ֖ל עַל־עַמּֽוֹ׃ יט וַיַּ֨עַן יְהוָ֜ה וַיֹּ֣אמֶר לְעַמּ֗וֹ הִנְנִ֨י שֹׁלֵ֤חַ לָכֶם֙ אֶת־הַדָּגָן֙ וְהַתִּיר֣וֹשׁ וְהַיִּצְהָ֔ר וּשְׂבַעְתֶּ֖ם אֹת֑וֹ וְלֹֽא־אֶתֵּ֨ן אֶתְכֶ֥ם ע֛וֹד חֶרְפָּ֖ה בַּגּוֹיִֽם׃ כ וְֽאֶת־הַצְּפוֹנִ֞י אַרְחִ֣יק מֵֽעֲלֵיכֶ֗ם וְהִדַּחְתִּיו֮ אֶל־אֶ֣רֶץ צִיָּ֣ה וּשְׁמָמָה֒ אֶת־פָּנָ֗יו אֶל־הַיָּם֙ הַקַּדְמֹנִ֔י וְסֹפ֖וֹ אֶל־הַיָּ֣ם הָאַֽחֲר֑וֹן

95 year-old Ezra Yakhin "Elnakam", the oldest reservist in the IDF, was a comrade of my Jason's great-uncle in the Lehi underground in the 1940s, before the founding of the State of Israel. In those most desperate times for the Jewish people they fought for the survival of the Jewish people against all odds. All these years later that sense of duty to defend our people is very much at the core of Ezra Yakhin's ethos.

Yakhin, along with 87 year-old Martin Holt and 85 year-old Nacha Gilboa are old enough to remember the horrors of the 1940s and the determination of every Jew to ensure the survival of our people in our homeland and in the world in general.

They continue to volunteer for reserve duty to remind the younger generations that we have faced such existential threats and barbaric attacks before, and survived to rebuild and restore. Am Yisrael Hai.

Hannukah olive harvest

The kids in the foreground are from several family groups of religious Zionist (dati leumi) Israeli Jews from various towns and cities in the Jerusalem area.

The people working alongside them, such as the man in the yellow shirt, are Israeli Muslim Bedouin, students and teachers from a school for special needs children (including several with Down Syndrome) in the southern Israeli town of Rahat.

There was also a Jewish high school group, I didn't catch from where.

They are all volunteering together this Hannukah on a farm in a moshav village in central Israel, helping to harvest the olives to be made into olive oil.

(The man driving the tractor is from the farm)

After working all morning we were invited to take a break and visit the olive pressing barn where gleaming stainless steel equipment produces olive oil the modern way. Explanations were offered in Hebrew and Arabic.

In the distance we could see white puffs of smoke in the sky and hear the loud booms of Iron Dome rocket interceptions over the densely populated cities of central Israel.

In the other direction we saw a glorious large flock of overwintering pelicans lazily soaring overhead.

Homefront Hannukah snapshot: Israel 2023

On the "jolly" giant Hannukah dreidels decorating a roundabout in Herzliya Pituah the faces of Israel's still missing hostages replace the traditional Hebrew letters. 

In the train stations in Jerusalem and Modiin vast posters displaying with the hostages' names and faces and the legend "Bring the home" cover a wall in the foyers.

In Modiin's central train station there is an empty plastic yellow chair in front of the poster with a sign announcing "this chair will remain empty until they all return home". 



Prominently displayed in the middle of the main ticketing halls at train stations are tables with makeshift memorials and the photo of Eliyahu Elmekayes, an Israel Railways security guard killed who was also an army reservist. One of hundreds of thousands of reserve soldiers drafted on emergency call-ups in the wake of the October 7th Hamas invasion, he was killed fighting Hamas in Gaza. 

The Hannukah menorahs all over the place can't escape from the shadow of being a country at war.

In malls they stand alongside signs pointing the way to the nearest bomb shelter in case of a rocket siren.

Outside a cafe a glass hannukiah stands in front of a photo of Daniel Kastiel, a soldier in the prestigious Maglan commando killed on the fifth day of the war in Gaza. The photo is flanked by a printed card with the prayer for the IDF and Israel's security forces. 



Every other person wears dogtags proclaiming "my heart is captive in Gaza" in support of the hostages and their families. Or a pendant in the shape of a simple map of Israel, maybe with a Magen David star or a heart in its centre, perhaps also a verse for mystical protection like the priestly blessing or the Shema Yisrael prayer. Quite a number of people wear necklaces and bracelets featuring all of the above.  

Israeli flags are everywhere, in festive looking stands in the train stations or hung respectfully in shop windows and malls, draped over tall buildings and bus stops, hanging outside homes and businesses, stuck on to walls, vehicles and windows, fluttering from lamposts and balconies, adorning advertisements, billboards and product packages, even on the side panels of train engines. 

I walked by a treif (non-kosher) supermarket who's window decor featured Novi God/Christmas trees festooned with copious Israeli flags mixed in with the baubles and tinsel. 



Messages of support and encouragement have popped up all over. To Israelis in general, to the soldiers of the IDF, to families of hostages and the bereaved. The giant billboards looming over Tel Aviv's congested city highways that usually advertise fashionable goods now sport blue and white posters to raise morale while hand scrawled notices and pictures drawn by young children are taped to bus shelters, benches, shop windows and blocks of flat. Improvised banners hang on fences, balcony railings and outside shops. 

Even the traditional Hannukah holiday sufganiya doughnut treats feature patriotic colours: blue and white frosting and sprinkles or Magen David designs, bakeries selling them in flag decorated boxes with the ubiquitous "together we will win" message which is present everywhere, even more so than the flags or the second most common slogan "Am Yisrael Hai" - the nation of Israel lives. 



This is a strange bittersweet Hannukah, streets and transport hubs crowded with soldiers in rumpled, dusty uniforms and guns travelling home for a few hours of precious leave to see their families or schlepping back to the front loaded with homecooked food from home.



The cheery displays of sufganiyot in the bakery windows are at odds with the faces of the hostages staring out from prominent posters in every public space, the regular roar of military jets overhead punctuated with occasional boom of rockets or distant artillery, the relentless news cycles or the signs everywhere indicating the nearest bomb shelters. 

But despite it all this is Hannukah, the festival of light in the darkness, of the miracle of the olive oil, of Jewish hope and defiance in the face of those who seek to wipe us out over and over again. 

The word genocide was invented by a Jew because there were no words to describe what happened to the Jewish people during the Holocaust. But for the Jewish people the concept was nothing new. Physically or spiritually and culturally, oppressor after oppressor has tried to perpetrate a genocide of the Jews over and over again throughout the centuries. While they inflicted terrible losses on our people we have always survived. Am Yisrael Hai. We still live and will go on living. 

 

This year there seem to be even more outdoor Hannukah menorah's lit on streets, in public squares, by the entrances of buildings, balanced on garden walls. And so many twinkle from the windows of homes and offices, on the counters of shops and cafes, perched on balcony railings.

Knowing how many Israelis are still captive, missing or mourning loved ones it feels weird to suddenly find ourselves in the middle of the joyous festival of Hannukah when for so many of us time seems to have stopped on Simhat Torah, October 7th. 

Lighting the candles or oil wicks, comemorating the holiday with traditional foods and songs, gatherings of family and friends, the little things in life we always took for granted, suddenly all feel like a strident, defiant, life affirming act in the face of the sadistic enemy who attacked us on October 7th and the far too many in the big wide world who celebrated that murderous assault on Israel and the Jewish people and who continue to deny our right to exist.

As night falls they broadcast the Hannukah miracle loud and clear, the story of the oil which lasted for eight days, a metaphor for the survival of the Jewish people who held out against the odds in times of terror and persecution, holding on long enough for a new generation, fresh oil from the new season, to be born to ensure our light would continue to shine in the world.