End Time Prophecy Signs are Unfolding...
More Sensible and Emunah-Based Chizuk for Those Lacking Access to a Protected Space
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| Arad |
Times of Israel: Military officials said Thursday that since the cluster bombs are unlikely to cause significant harm if civilians are sheltering, there are times when the IAF chooses not to shoot down all or some of the bomblets to conserve its stockpile of short-range interceptors. This is nothing more than a cheap mafia-like threat: “We’re going to assume everyone is being a good boy and girl and running to the shelter
AND NOW ANOTHER HAREDI BLDG HIT
(Excerpt from latest article, link below)
[…] The following sources lend insight into the proper application of bitachon and its parameters.
1. “Ravin son of Rav Adda said in the name of Rabbi Yitzchak: ‘If one is accustomed to going to shul and is absent one day, Hashem inquires as to his absence…if it is due to a mitzvah his way will be illuminated, but if it is due to a personal matter (such as business) his way will not be illuminated…Why? Because he should have trusted in Hashem and did not.’” (Brachos 6B)
One is expected to forgo business opportunities and other worldly matters that clash with his religious obligations, and trust that God will take care of him. One cannot rely on the excuse that he is performing proper hishtadlus; this hishtadlus goes too far and impinges on the domain that belongs to bitachon.
(Note: Closing shuls, yeshivos, and otherwise placing indefinite restrictions on our ability to perform our religious obligations demonstrates a severe lack of bitachon. The claim that this is proper hishtadlus to prevent people from getting sick is misguided. I wrote about this extensively here and here.)
2. “Rabbi Eliezer HaGadol says, ‘One who has bread in his basket and worries about what he will eat the next day is small in faith.’” (Sotah 48B)
3. “A certain student was walking behind Rabbi Yishmael son of Rabbi Yossi in the market of Zion. Rabbi Yishmael saw that he was afraid and said to him ‘You are a sinner, as it is written, “The sinners were afraid in Zion (Yeshaya 33:14).”’ The student replied, ‘But it is written, “Praiseworthy is one who fears constantly!”’ Rabbi Yishmael replied, ‘That is written in reference to Torah.’” (Brachos 60A)
4. “They taught in the name of Rabbi Akiva: ‘One should accustom himself to say that everything Hashem does is for the best.’” (Brachos 60B, see more there)
All of these sources indicate that one is not supposed to worry about the vicissitudes of life, only about how well he is performing his role as a God-fearing Jew. Fretting about the future is considered a lack of bitachon and even evidence that the person is sinner; a tzaddik goes with confidence and tranquility even in dark times.
Obviously this is a lofty goal that few can fully attain, but the principles can be applied by everyone according to their level.
(Note: Source #2 is especially relevant for those who are facing pressure from employers to poison themselves. We are not supposed to imperil our lives for any amount of money. We are also supposed to believe that our livelihood comes from God, and it is determined on Rosh Hashana. If we really believe this, we will not poison ourselves for immediate financial convenience.
Source #3 is speaking directly to us. The propaganda machines in Zion and worldwide are spewing a relentless diet of fear. We are not allowed to be frightened. If we live in terror of a virus it is a sign that we are sinners, and we need an immediate dose of bitachon. Those who fail to bolster their spiritual immune system will make very irresponsible and harmful choices instead to placate their fears.)
5. “Rabbi Eliezer ben Yaacov taught: ‘Even the youngest of the daughters of Tzelophchod did not marry before the age of forty.’ Could this be? But Rav Hisda said, ‘A woman who marries before the age of twenty can give birth until sixty; a woman who marries at twenty can give birth until forty; a woman who marries at forty will not give birth.’ Nevertheless, since they were righteous a miracle was performed for them as with Yocheved.” (Bava Basra 119B)
Rashi: “They trusted that due to their righteousness a miracle would be performed for them as with Yocheved, and therefore they waited until forty so that they could marry someone suitable.”
This source indicates that one should rely on bitachon to an exceptional degree rather than perform hishtadlus that would have a disastrous effect, such as marrying someone unsuitable. This provides a terrific clue to help explain the stories with Yosef and Chizkiyahu, as we shall see.
*
The Chazon Ish clarifies some myths and misconceptions about emunahand bitachon in his sefer by that name. In the second chapter, he discusses a longstanding error in the popular definition of bitachon to mean that one must always believe that a positive outcome will occur. This is incorrect, he writes, because the future is unknown unless God reveals it to us. In other words, sick people don’t always get well, we don’t always get a verdict in our favor, and bad things do happen. It is therefore foolish to trust that every situation will have a positive outcome.
Rather, he explains, a true bote’ach will forgo the usual schemes of people to attain a positive outcome, and will instead take a spiritual approach that consists of repentance, prayer, and charity to alter the heavenly verdict. The litmus test to determine whether or not someone is merely paying lip service to bitachon or is a true bote’ach is how he responds when he is under duress. Many people encourage others to have bitachon, yet rely on everything but God when they are the ones facing a difficult time.
The Chazon Ish then addresses the story of Yosef. He explains that one is generally required to engage in a certain measure of hishtadlus in conjunction with his inner bitachon. However, some forms of hishtadlus go overboard and conflict with the required level of bitachon.
Yosef felt obligated to engage in at least a small degree of hishtadlus and not rely entirely on a miracle. Normally this is entirely correct. However, the Egyptians were immoral people to the extent that it was against their very nature to remember someone and return a favor. Consequently, relying on the wine officer to do just that qualified not as an appropriate act of hishtadlus but as an act of desperation, which is inappropriate. (It is without question that Yosef was held accountable for this extremely nuanced misstep only because of his exalted level and the expectations that come with it.)
This approach sheds light on the story with Chizkiyahu as well. After all, he was not criticized for most of the hishtadlus that he performed, only for stopping the natural water sources. That was akin to a scorched earth policy that harmed his own people as well as the enemy, and was therefore considered an act of desperation. Hishtadlus that causes unnecessary harm to oneself is outside the bounds of proper human endeavor and reflects poorly on one’s true bitachon. (Note: Similarly, actively injecting oneself with harmful, potentially deadly pharmaceutical products due to grossly exaggerated fears of a virus is indefensible from a Torah standpoint. It is an act of desperation that almost guarantees harm to one’s body in some way in exchange for little more than a temporary, extremely limited feeling of security. This goes entirely against the Torah’s position on proactive medical intervention, as discussed here and here, and demonstrates a complete breakdown of one’s bitachon in favor of wildly reckless hishtadlus.)
This also resolves the question of the Rashash. Even though Chizkiyahu was not operating with the prophecy that Hashem would save the city, he was expected to trust that God would come to their rescue if he performed appropriate hishtadlus. While he did demonstrate a high level of bitachon, chazal determined that he fell short of the ideal with one action that went a bit too far.
Rabbi Avraham son of the Rambam develops this concept at length in his Sefer Hamaspik L’ovdei Hashem in his chapter on bitachon. He explains that the balance of bitachon versus hishtadlus that is expected varies from one individual to the next. He provides numerous examples to demonstrate that an extremely holy person who is used to experiencing miracles must engage in very limited hishtadlus, and at times none at all, since doing otherwise would be an insult to Hashem.
In fact, the proper balance of bitachon versus hishtadlus even varies with the same individual from one time to another. At certain times holy people such as Yaacov and Eliyahu HaNavi relied on miracles, while at other times they innately sensed that more natural efforts were required of them.
A particularly sharp example he gives is the Jews in the midbar, who were expected to march into Israel and wage war against the occupying nations without any natural preparations. They were on such an exalted level, and lived under such constant miraculous protection, that the mere request to engage in regular hishtadlus was beneath them and considered a serious lack of bitachon.
After they compounded their error by believing the evil report of the meraglim, they lost their right to have such a high level of bitachon. What was previously required of them was suddenly forbidden altogether! A group of Jews attempted to reclaim their previous level by marching into Israel and fighting with confidence, in spite of being warned not to do so, but the moment had been lost. They no longer enjoyed divine protection, and were massacred.
We see that the same individuals within a 24-hour period can have completely different expectations of bitachon and hishtadlus. What is required for one is forbidden for another! Bitachon is subjective to the individual and the particular time.
What does all this mean for us? The most fundamental conclusion should not come as a revelation to anyone: the vast majority of us must act according to the ways of the world, but put our ultimate trust in Hashem to make our efforts successful.
(Note: We must make reasonable efforts to oppose the tyranny, while recognizing that we have no power whatsoever to achieve victory through these actions. Only God can save us. There is no contradiction. We must perform normal hishtadlus, while humbly acknowledging our complete reliance on God to bless our efforts or bring salvation another way. Our obligation to make reasonable efforts is independent of our powerlessness to control the outcome.)
But there are deeper lessons here that everyone must apply in his own way. We must examine our behavior to see if we are engaging in “acts of desperation” that fly in the face of true bitachon. If one does not engage in enough hishtadlus for his level he is arrogantly assuming that he merits more divine intervention than he is entitled to – but if he engages in too much hishtadlus he displays a lack of trust in divine intervention that should be expected! One must devote careful, honest thought to this lest he step off the tightrope in either direction.
(Rav Yosef Zundel Salanter, the rebbe of Rav Yisrael Salanter, wrote a letter to his son who was experiencing duress in his travels. Rav Yosef Zundel advised his son to seek the assistance of two people and not more lest he go overboard with hishtadlus and detract from his bitachon. The letter can be found in Chapter 25 of Or Yisrael.)
When it comes to shidduchim, it is not especially difficult to apply these principles. Those who believe that they must live a lie for shidduch purposes do not have true bitachon, plain and simple. This is reminiscent of the self-destructive actions that Chizkiyahu took for which he was criticized.
God does not want us to engage in acts of desperation such as bizarre segulos and other attempts at manipulating presumed spiritual forces. God wants us to serve only Him, fear only Him, seek only His salvation, and perfect our character. He will take care of the rest.
Since only God can help one find the right person to marry, it is senseless and counter-productive to attempt to force the issue. Much of the current shidduch world is one act of desperation after another trying to force the issue in ways that harm the individual. This demonstrates an absence of true bitachon regardless of how much lip service is paid to the concept.
(Note: Since only God can keep us healthy, it is senseless and counterproductive to become human pincushions for every new “vaccine” that drug-pushers insist we need. When it comes to one’s physical wellbeing, the proper hishtadlus is to maintain a healthy immune system, take reasonable precautions that do not interfere with one’s religious duties, and live with confidence and joy, not with fear. We are not supposed to live in terror of death from every breath and human interaction. We are supposed to live.)
The relationship between God and people in shidduchim is simple. It is God’s responsibility to provide singles with good opportunities. It then becomes the responsibility of the singles to take full advantage of these opportunities, to put their heart and soul into pursuing these opportunities. This may require considerable investments of time, money, and emotional energy; that is the hishtadlus that is required of us.
Those who try to force the issue in creating faux opportunities are going overboard with hishtadlus. Those who are quick to dismiss good opportunities are not going far enough with hishtadlus, and are putting an onus on divine intervention that they may not be entitled to.
It is incumbent on each individual to find a custom-fit balance between the two, but the principles are universal. Once we achieve the proper balance we can proceed with confidence that we are doing our part and optimism that God will surely do His. At this point we are no longer to worry; worry is the domain of those who lack bitachon. We are right to be concerned if we have difficulty attaining our goals, but we must accept God’s will and continue to hope only for His salvation.
In the merit of this, all those who need salvation should receive it quickly.
(Note: And in the merit of this, may we merit good health, long life, the downfall of the evil tyrants, and the great light of the final redemption.)
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…….The father and mother with clubs. Surely they were not protesting but merely watching the insane fracas. For sure this delays what everyone are expecting. We are not ready…..!
NEW YORK (VINnews/Yair Hoffman) – To those who have recently lost a loved one: may you find comfort in knowing that the neshamah of your dear one has embarked on a profound and purposeful journey, guided by the loving hand of HaKadosh Boruch Hu.
There is a fascinating Abarbanel on the verse in Bereishis (2:7): “Hashem formed man of dust from the ground, and He breathed into his nostrils the soul of life, and man became — lenefesh chaya — a living soul.” The Abarbanel explains that Hashem created the soul to be living constantly — everlasting, without death and not lost.
This and other Torah sources teach us that the neshama is immortal — a foundation of Torah-true Judaism. This truth is reflected in the emphasis placed upon Shabbos observance. Although we keep Shabbos primarily because the Torah commands us to do so, it is also the flagship of Jewish belief. We cease all forms of creative activity because Hashem ceased from creation and rested on the seventh day. By resting as well, we declare to the world our belief in the Creator, that He is the essence of all that is good, and that He rewards good and punishes evil. In order to receive this reward and punishment, the soul must be immortal.
The Zohar (Vol. II 118b) explains that the body and the neshamah, or soul, are two separate things. The body houses the neshamah (Vol. II 142b). The neshamah becomes attached to the guf, the body, while yet in the womb. The Talmud (Niddah 30b) derives this from the verse in Iyov (29:3): “When He lit His candle over my head; by His light I would go through the darkness.” The Talmud further explains that the soul is taught the entire Torah during the nine months in the womb, and that this time is replete with remarkable goodness.
The soul is likened to a lamp, as it says: “Ner Hashem nishmas ha’adam — a lamp of G-d is the soul of man” (Mishlei 20:27), and “For You light my lamp, Hashem; My G-d brightens my darkness” (Tehillim 18:29).
The Midrashei HaZohar on Koheles (p. 1196) explains that 30 days before a person’s death, the neshamah begins to fade. However, it remains with the body until the actual moment of death — yetzias ha’neshamah. When the soul departs, it is compared to the extinguishing of a lamp (Shir HaShirim Rabbah 6:1).
The connection that binds the soul to the body is quite strong. The Gemara in Avodah Zarah (20b) teaches that in order to sever this connection, the Malach HaMaves — the Angel of Death — frightens the person, causing the soul to detach from the body. If the person developed a close connection to Hashem during his or her lifetime, there is “ein macharid” — no frightening on the part of the Malach HaMaves. Rather, the soul departs out of its own desire to attach itself to the Shechinah, which arrives at that moment.
In the third chapter of Kallah Rabbasi, the verse in Shmos 33:20 is explained: “For no man shall see Me and live” — this refers to their lifetime. But at the time of death, they do see. The Rash MiShantz in his introduction to the Toras Kohanim explains that it is similar to the state of the soul before it was bound to the body.
There are different levels, however. Some perceive more of the Shechinah than others, though almost everyone perceives a type of light. It appears from Pirkei Rebbi Eliezer (chapter 34) that this is part and parcel of the process of death.
The Megaleh Amukos (Parashas Emor, ofen 17) cites the Sefer HaTemunah, a Kabbalistic work, that when the soul departs the body, it sings the hymn of “Mizmor Shir L’Yom HaShabbos.” This likely refers to those on a high spiritual level — individuals who merit to see the Shechinah at the time the soul departs (Avodas Yisroel of Rav Yisroel of Kozhnitz, Parashas Parah).
The severing of body and soul is sometimes painful and sometimes not, depending upon the spiritual level of the deceased (see Ohr HaChaim, Parashas Bechukosai 26, and Gemara in Berachos 8a). According to Pirkei D’Rebbi Eliezer (34), the sound of the separation is one of the six sounds that reverberates throughout the universe, yet is not audibly heard.
The Midrash (Bereishis Rabbah 14:9) refers to the neshamah with five names or forces: Nefesh (soul), Ruach (spirit), Neshamah (breath), Chayah (life force), and Yechidah (unique singularity). The master Kabbalists explain that these five names describe five dimensions of the soul. Nefesh is the engine of physical life. Ruach is the emotional self, imbuing the individual with personality. Neshamah is the intellectual self. Chayah is the life force that instills will, commitment, and faith. Yechidah connotes the very essence of the soul — its unity with its source, the singular essence of Hashem.
Immediately upon death, the neshamah can be in a state of utter confusion. It is therefore considered a great chesed to remain with a dying person so that he or she does not die alone.
During this time, the soul may forget, out of confusion and fright, who it was. The Shla HaKadosh therefore recommends that one become familiar with a verse in the Torah that alludes to his or her own name — that is, a verse whose first and last letters match the first and last letters of one’s name. These verses are typically found and recited at the conclusion of the Shacharis Shemoneh Esreh.
The soul, now detached from the body, is painfully aware of all things that physically surround it — particularly before the body is buried. It can also hear words spoken by those near the body. The Talmud (Shabbos 152a) tells us that the soul mourns for its body for a full seven days, as derived from the verse “His soul mourns for him” (Iyov 14:22).
For this reason, those who perform the taharah, and those who watch the body before burial, should refrain from frivolous conversation, so that the neshamah not be further bewildered.
For the first twelve months after death, portions of the soul hover near the body. For most neshamos, until the body reaches a certain level of decomposition, the soul wanders nearby and has no permanent resting place — a source of pain and discomfort. During this time, the soul is aware of and pained by the physical changes occurring to its body. Reciting Tehillim is a source of comfort for the confused neshamah.
The Talmud (Shabbos 152a) states that “worms are as painful to the dead as needles are to the flesh of the living” (Iyov 14:22). The Mekubalim call this “Chibut HaKever” — the affliction of the grave. For some individuals, what transpires in the grave can be even more painful than Gehinnom itself.
During that first year after death, the soul is initially judged by the Heavenly Court. In addition to this initial judgment, the souls of the wicked are further reproved for twelve months. Others are reproved for a lesser time, depending upon the severity of their deeds and whether they performed teshuvah.
If teshuvah mei’ahavah — repentance out of love of Hashem — was performed, then the sins of one’s lifetime are not only erased but actually count as mitzvos. This remarkable gift, beyond our full comprehension, also lessens the time the neshamah spends in the cleansing process.
Because those who are particularly righteous or who performed teshuvah mei’ahavah do not require the full twelve-month stay in Gehinnom, Kaddish is traditionally recited for only eleven months — so as not to imply that the deceased requires the maximum period.
We thus see that how one is regarded here on earth affects, to some degree, the disposition of the individual in Heaven as well.
For this reason, when mentioning a parent’s name during the first year after death, one should say: “Hareini kaparas mishkavo — May I be an atonement for his resting place.” The main judgment after death occurs in Gehinnom, where the soul is cleansed in a spiritual fire and purified to receive its eternal reward. The fire abates every Shabbos.
There are souls judged at the initial judgment as not yet ready for the spiritual purification that Gehinnom accomplishes. These souls are sent back to this world so that they may gain some form of merit. Once they do, the judgment process can then proceed. Even if this takes longer than twelve months, we treat everyone as though their maximum time is twelve months.
The souls of the truly righteous are in one sense even greater than the angels on high: they are able to progress higher and higher in their ultimate heavenly abode. Zechariah the Navi was shown a vision of stationary angels and told (3:7), “If you go in My ways . . . then I will give you a place to move among [the angels] standing here.” Angels, with their limited form of bechirah, remain at one level of Gan Eden. A truly righteous person can ascend — both before and after the neshamah has departed.
How can a soul continue to ascend after it has departed? If, during one’s lifetime, one raised children who perform mitzvos, helped create Torah learning, or has descendants and others who learn Mishnayos or recite Kaddish on his behalf, the soul can shift its Heavenly station upward.
It is crucial to know that there are six degrees of tikkunim one can perform for the deceased — and Kaddish is actually the lowest of these six levels. They are enumerated by Rabbi Eliyahu Gutmacher, a primary student of Rabbi Akiva Eiger, in his sefer entitled Sukkas Shalom. Each ascending level is a higher form of tikkun for the soul:
Shlomo HaMelech compares the neshamah to a lamp (Mishlei 20:27): “Ner Hashem nishmas Adam — the lamp of Hashem is the soul of a person.” Dovid HaMelech likewise stated, “For You light my lamp, Hashem; My G-d brightens my darkness” (Tehillim 18:29).
The neshamah remains in the home during the shiva period and is comforted by the presence of a candle lit in its honor. The candle mirrors the nature of the neshamah, which is drawn toward it in a state of glory and happiness (see Rabbeinu Bachya, Shmos 25:31). Ideally, the candle should be lit in the home where the deceased lived; if not, it should be lit where the mourners are sitting shiva.
Ideally, the candle should be lit by the child of the deceased. When lighting it, one should say: “Harei ani madlik ner zo l’zecher nishmas _____ ben _____.” The candle should remain lit for the entire shiva. If the candle burns out, it should be replaced.
The Zohar tells us that from the mitzvos a person performs in his or her lifetime, the Holy One fashions garments that clothe the neshamah. These spiritual robes allow the soul to stand in the courtyard of the King. Without them, the soul cannot perceive the pleasantness of Hashem — Noam Hashem. The converse is equally true: when sins are committed, a decrepit robe is placed over the neshamah and its time in Gehinnom is set in motion.
The processes that occur to the neshamah after it departs from the body are complex and, at times, sobering. Yet it is entirely possible to prepare for this passage properly. We see the tremendous importance of cultivating a dveikus — a cleaving to Hashem — of performing teshuvah out of genuine love of Hashem, and of supporting Torah study throughout one’s lifetime. May Hashem speedily bring about the removal of death laNetzach.
The author can be reached at yairhoffman2@gmail.com.
This article is dedicated in memory of the author’s mother-in-law, Mrs. Sally Hirsch a”h, Tzalcha bas R’ Moshe HaKohen,
Fear not, O Israel
The covenant endures. The Jewish people may face criticism and reproach, but they are never abandoned.
At first glance, the Haftorah for Parshat Vayikra appears to revolve around a subject that feels distant from modern life: the sacrificial service in the Temple. Drawn from Isaiah (43:21-44:23), it rebukes Israel for neglecting the offerings that once stood at the center of Jewish worship.
But as is often the case with the words of the prophets, the message runs far deeper. Beneath the discussion of sacrifices lies a timeless call to the Jewish people: a summons to remember who we are, why we were chosen and what we are meant to stand for in the world.
Those questions feel especially urgent today, as Israel once again finds itself confronting the Iranian regime and its proxies in a dangerous regional conflict.
The Haftorah opens with a striking declaration from the Almighty: “This people I formed for Myself; they shall declare My praise" (Isaiah 43:21).
The verse is a powerful reminder of the Jewish people’s purpose. Israel was not created merely to exist as another nation among nations. Rather, the Jewish people were formed to proclaim G-d’s presence and moral truth in the world.
Yet Isaiah immediately follows this lofty statement with a harsh rebuke. The people, he laments, have failed to bring offerings and have turned away from G-d. Instead of fulfilling their mission, they have allowed complacency and spiritual fatigue to take hold.
The prophet’s critique is not merely about the technical performance of sacrifices. It is about something deeper: the erosion of commitment.
But what makes the Haftorah so striking is what comes next.
Despite the bristling criticism directed at Israel in the closing verses of chapter 43, the very next chapter opens with a remarkable reaffirmation of the relationship between G-d and His people.
“And now hear, O Jacob My servant, and Israel whom I have chosen," declares the Creator (Isaiah 44:1).
The message is unmistakable. Even after rebuke, the bond between G-d and Israel remains intact.
This theme continues in the next verses as well. In Isaiah 44:2-3, G-d again addresses the nation as His servant and promises blessing and renewal. And later in the Haftorah, the prophet reiterates the point with striking clarity: “Remember these things, O Jacob, and Israel, for you are My servant; I fashioned you, you are my servant O Israel, do not forget Me" (Isaiah 44:21).
In other words, the covenant endures. The Jewish people may face criticism and reproach, but they are never abandoned.
That message carries enormous resonance in our own time.
Israel today faces not only missiles and drones launched by Iran and its proxies, but relentless diplomatic and media assaults in international forums. The Jewish state is frequently singled out for condemnation while the brutality of its enemies is ignored or excused.
At times, the pressure can feel overwhelming.
Yet the Haftorah reminds us that the ultimate measure of Israel’s legitimacy does not come from international institutions or political alliances. It comes from the Divine covenant itself.
Perhaps the most powerful reassurance in the entire Haftorah appears in 44:8. “Do not fear," G-d declares, “and do not be afraid. Have I not told you long ago and declared it? You are My witnesses. Is there any G-d besides Me?".
These words have echoed across our collective past with remarkable relevance.
The Jewish people have faced existential threats many times before, from the ancient empires of Babylon and Rome to the tyrannies of the twentieth century. Each time, our enemies believed that they could erase the Jewish nation from history.
Each time, they were wrong.
The Iranian regime has for decades preached the same type of genocide against us. And yet Isaiah’s prophecy reminds us that fear cannot be the defining response of the Jewish people.
This does not mean ignoring danger or pretending that threats are not real. Rather, it means remembering that the Jewish story has always unfolded within the framework of a covenant that transcends the shifting tides of history.
The soldiers defending Israel today are not offering sacrifices upon the altar in Jerusalem. But in a profound sense, they are continuing the same tradition of dedication and devotion that the sacrificial service once represented.
In Biblical times, a korban (sacrificial offering) expressed the recognition that life ultimately belongs to G-d.
Today, the courage and sacrifice of those who defend Israel affirm that the Jewish people remain committed to the values and mission entrusted to them long ago.
That mission has never been easy. It demands resilience, faith and moral clarity.
But the Haftorah of Vayikra reminds us of something essential.
We remain G-d’s servants.
We remain G-d’s chosen people.
And therefore, as Isaiah tells us, we truly have no reason to fear.
When Sunni Muslims pray for Israel
Sometimes diplomacy doesn’t begin with treaties or official visits. Opinion.
In an era when social media often amplifies hatred and outrage, something remarkable happened recently on X (formerly Twitter).
It began with a simple post I wrote on March 12. I mentioned that my sons, along with thousands of other young Israelis, are serving in the Israel Defense Forces as the Jewish state confronts Iran and its proxies. Like any father, I worry for their safety.
So I ended the post with a request directed to the people of Somaliland, a state that declared independence from Somalia in the early 1990s.
Over the years, I’ve met many Somalilanders online and been struck by their open admiration for Israel-its resilience, democracy, and ability to thrive despite hardship. Because of that, I asked them to do something unusual: pray for the IDF.
Even so, I never expected what happened next.
Replies poured in-warm, heartfelt, and sincere.
“I pray to Allah to stand with the people of Israel and protect them against Iran and all enemies who wish them harm."
- Rakad Sultan, businessman connected to Somaliland’s Ministry of Labor"
“We pray a lot for the sons of Israel who are fighting the enemy. May they be victorious!"
- Amin Ismail
“Our prayers are with you. May G-d protect and watch over you. Long live Israel."
The messages just kept coming. Again and again, religious Sunni Muslims from Somaliland expressed their willingness to pray for Jewish soldiers.
Pause and consider that.
In much of the Muslim world, public support for Israel is rare. Political rhetoric and decades of propaganda have fostered hostility toward the Jewish state. Yet here were Muslims openly praying for IDF soldiers-publicly, on a global platform.
Even more striking, it happened during Ramadan, a time of devotion and compassion. As Muslims worldwide turned to G-d, Somalilanders included Jewish soldiers in their prayers.
That is extraordinary-and deeply telling.
Located in the Horn of Africa along the Gulf of Aden, Somaliland declared independence in 1991. In three decades, it has built democratic institutions, held elections, and maintained stability in a turbulent region. Despite this, it remains unrecognized internationally. Israel, however, became the first to recognize it in December 2025.
Both societies share similarities: they arose from difficulty, were built under pressure, and survive in tough neighborhoods. But beyond geopolitics lies something more important-mutual respect between people.
The responses to my post weren’t official statements. They were simple prayers from ordinary Somalilanders.
And that’s why they matter.
Even among Arab countries that have peace with Israel, few citizens would so openly pray for its soldiers. For decades, hostility between Israel and the Muslim world was seen as inevitable.
But Somaliland offers another model - a Muslim-majority society that is pragmatic, outward-looking and open to cooperation.
Here were individuals who answered a Jewish father’s plea by asking Allah to protect his sons. That is more than a gesture. It’s a glimpse of what relations between Israel and the Muslim world could one day become.
Sometimes diplomacy doesn’t begin with treaties or official visits. Sometimes it begins somewhere far simpler: with a Jewish father asking for prayers, and Muslims answering that call.
Michael Freund, an ordained rabbi, served as Deputy Communications Director under Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu. He is a veteran Jerusalem Post columnist and writes a weekly article for Arutz Sheva's Judaism section..
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