This morning, instead of halakha (Jewish law), I want to share something else. Why? Because it's fresh; it's from this morning. First, if you see me text during tefillah (prayer), know that I'm not texting a brother or a friend to say hello and ask how they're doing.
A few months ago, a few weeks into the war, many units in the IDF saw that they were missing a lot of things. That's another issue—why and how—but they might say how they reached out to people in America for help. We were also approached. One of the biggest things we did was provide a very large drone that could carry very serious missiles. It was a big number, like twenty thousand dollars, whatever. One morning at breakfast, a few of us each put in a couple thousand dollars, and we raised the money. We sent it to these people, not through the shul, because we're not allowed to, but to this unit. They sent me a lot of videos, which they're not allowed to send, showing what they did with that drone throughout the war. Incredible.
When I went to Israel, before we purchased that drone, I met with the unit. It's close to Rosh HaNikra. Rosh HaNikra is the border with Lebanon, and they took me to some very interesting places. You create a kesher (connection), and they always say it's incredible how Klal Yisrael (the Jewish people) got to meet each other, in a sense. We brought people here throughout the whole winter whom otherwise we wouldn't have had a way to connect with, and we got to connect with another side, I call it another side of Klal Yisrael, that we didn't have a close connection with. This is incredible.
About two weeks ago, this guy texted me. He said, “After 10 months in reserve, I think we deserve a little break, and I'm coming with my wife to New York for 10 days.” I said, “Oh, you should come to Miami for a couple of days. Give us that treat.” He made the arrangements and said he was coming; he'll be here this Shabbat. This morning, early, I remembered that he had probably landed today or something, so I sent him, “Safe travels.” I didn't know if he had traveled. I want to read you the text exchange. I just said, “Safe travels,” and he texted me, “We just landed in JFK.” So I wrote back, “tehenu, enjoy. If you need anything in New York, let me know. I have connections in New York.” If he needs anything, I could help him.
What is the only thing that crossed this guy's mind? He answered, “If there is a maneuver inside Lebanon tomorrow, I trust”—it's broken English—“I trust you to get me out of here on the first flight.” That's all he thought about. I wanted to offer him, “If you need a car, if you need a restaurant, I could try to.” But what he's thinking is, “If there's something going on in Lebanon, I need a flight back.” That's all he's thinking. He's with his wife, by the way, and he's 52 years old. That means his reserve service was completely voluntary, because the cutoff age, I think, is 42 or 43, the age up to which they have an obligation to go. After that, it's all voluntary.
For 10 months straight, he's been, I saw him. I don't know if you remember, I sent some videos in this when I was there. I played ping pong with him on the Lebanese border. That's the guy. I think I couldn't keep this to myself: the dedication.
And really, in Chodesh Elul (month of Elul), it's a good thing to think about. How is there any mitzvah (commandment), or anything, that I'm dedicated to like this? This is little. It's not that there were a few minutes; he started thinking. At 7.29 a.m., I think, I texted, “If you need anything in New York, let me know.” At 7.31, he replied, “If there's a maneuver inside Lebanon tomorrow, I need you to get me out of here.” That's all. We have to think for ourselves about who we are, our mitzvot, whatever, and what kind of kesher we have with our Torah. Each one has their own way of connecting. Are we dedicated like this or not?