Real heroes—the kind who give a shy shrug when you ask them for their story, as if what they do is only normal. The kind of hero whose eyes give away a look of both determination and softness, because this was never what they intended to be.
That’s who we’re surrounded by, here in Israel. They stand along every border of our homeland: Heroes who only wanted to hug their families tight, work an honest living, and grab coffee with friends. Ordinary men and women who left their entire lives behind to stand up against the darkest enemies.
Last Chanukah, Nadav was sitting in a trench, right on the border with Lebanon. He and his
iDF unit were charged with guarding a sensitive post, from where they could see hilltop-to-hilltop with Hezbollah terrorists, just over the border fence. They watched closely for suspicious activity, and called in airstrikes to remove threats, over and over again.
The small unit already had a few close calls. The terrorists were shooting guided anti-tank missiles at anything that moved, and sometimes the soldiers’ camouflage gave away. They got a few shrapnel injuries and a small forest fire—but thanked G-d, they were all alive, and the communities they guarded were kept safe.
But that Chanukah, Nadav wasn’t thinking about himself. Not about his freezing toes or wet mattress or the fact that he was eating tuna from a can for the 90th meal in a row. Instead, he was thinking of the last Chanukah, when he lit the menorah on a base in Southern Israel with his closest army friends. His heart slowed as he pictured their faces glowing in the candle light. It was just three months before he completed his mandatory service in the IDF, and ten months before October 7th, when almost all of those shining faces were killed.
Nadav lifted his binoculars. As if in a trance, he looked all around him. Forests, mountains, a bone-chilling wind, and the thunderous sounds of bombs and fighter jets took over his senses. He did his best to stop the tears from coming—he just couldn’t do it yet. It wasn’t time to cry. He had to stay strong, at least for another few months until he could take a break from the warfront. How could he fight if he let his hope go?
Suddenly, he spotted movement in the distance. For the first time in months, he was seeing a civilian vehicle approach. It pulled up behind a bush, and a rabbi hopped out. He held a box of sufganyot, and a small menorah.
Rabbi Hertzel is one of the few rabbis who the army trusts to travel behind the military checkpoints in Israel’s north, and on that Chanukah, he made a point to visit every outpost in the Golan Heights that he could find. He found Nadav and his tiny unit, and with a huge smile, he walked up to their trench.
The small group lit the menorah together, and Nadav felt the Rabbi’s arm wrap around his shoulders. He looked into the glowing lights and let the tears burst forward. It was okay. He knew the lights would continue to shine. It was another Chanukah; this time he was the Maccabee.
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We’re surrounded by heroes, and this Chanukah, we need to surround them with love.
Rabbi Shalom Hertzel, the Chabad emissary to the Golan Heights, has plans to bring Chanukah to over 10,000 soldiers on our northern border. He has coordinated with the IDF to deliver Menorahs and sufganyot to troops in Lebanon and Syria.
The rabbi is coordinating 200 volunteers to reach every soldier in the Golan Heights with around 50 menorah lighting celebrations every night of Chanukah.
That’s 12,500 sufganyot.
Over a dozen new giant menorahs will be delivered to important IDF positions on the northern border.
$25 sponsors a tray of donuts
$250 sponsors travel for a group of volunteers
$1,200 sponsors a Chanukah party with the food truck
$1,500 sponsors a giant menorah
Every dollar is a hug to a hero who has our back.
