Posted on Facebook on June 22, 2025
This morning has been an emotional rollercoaster. On one hand, the news of the U.S. attack on Iranian nuclear facilities; on the other, a barrage of missiles—some striking Israel—leaving behind devastation, injuries, and more displaced citizens. In the midst of all this, Israel managed to retrieve the bodies of three captives—civilians and soldiers—and bring them home for burial. We remain committed to our responsibility to bring back every one of them—alive or fallen.
Watching the media, many experts are weighing in on the strategic and tactical aspects of recent events, often using glowing terms and superlatives. But I want to share a few personal thoughts from this weekend.
Among all the articles about the Iranian front, what stood out to me most were the stories of human connection—Israelis meeting in public shelters and building stairwells. These aren’t experiences anyone looks forward to, but once they happen, the stories reveal something powerful: even in the middle of the night, Israelis manage to smile at each other, offer a hand, a shoulder, and a listening ear.
Also striking were the reports about Israelis who were overseas when Israel launched its initial attack on Iran—left stranded by closed airspace—doing everything they can to return home to their families, friends, and army units. In contrast, many Iranians are fleeing their homes and cities—a difference widely noted across social media. It’s truly remarkable. We all love our country deeply and always find our way back home when it matters most.
In Hebrew, we have the word לְפַרְגֵּן (lefargen), a uniquely Israeli term that expresses deep, generous support. It means to truly rejoice in another person’s success or happiness, without jealousy or self-interest. It’s about creating emotional space for others to shine. Unlike a simple compliment, lefargen comes from the heart—it reflects emotional generosity.
I believe that in times like these, we should all strive to practice fergun toward one another. There is so much to be proud of, and we must continue to build a society grounded in mutual responsibility, respect, and plenty of fergun. That’s what I want to express publicly—to all those making their way home, and all those offering a hand and a heart in public shelters during these challenging times.
Personally, I carry real concerns about the threats facing Israel, the Jewish people, and the Western world. But I believe we are strong, and we will prevail—not just because we have no other choice, but because our cause is just and right.
What troubles me most is knowing that each time a rocket isn’t intercepted and hits Israeli ground, beyond the physical destruction, the casualties, and the painful personal losses—and none of this should ever be taken lightly—there’s a growing number of Israelis being evacuated from their homes. Since the beginning of the war, more and more citizens have experienced displacement. I believe that beyond the personal hardship, this carries deep national conseques. It affects our spirit, our sense of place, and our identity. After all, we are here to live in the land—not to wander in it. (See my article “Until the Final Furrow.”)
It is our responsibility to care for them during this time of hardship. Even more importantly, we must ensure—both for them and for ourselves—that they will return home as soon as possible, with dignity and safety, to continue building our nation.
And until then, we stand strong—together.
