That was just my stomach talking

I just wanted to get lunch. But the sidewalk was crowded with protestors, and barricades because of the protestors. "Anarchists, is what they call themselves," one policeman said, "we're here because of potential looting and vandalism."

"Great, a bunch of aimless hippies and hooligans who are wasting MY tax payer dollars on police force, and for what?" I grumbled.

But that was just my stomach talking.

And as the protests went on I ranted to a friend, "I agree with their message, but they are so scattered and they aren't fighting for something specific. They have no action plan!"

Who was that, making those cynical comments about activists?? I didn't recognize myself as I touted my nose at them.

But tonight, they sparked my soul.

I just wanted to get to the subway and go home. But there were thousands of people in the streets; protestors, journalists, spectators and police, who were yelling, singing, handing out newspapers and fliers, and chanting. And as I walked those 10 blocks filled with thousands of  hippies, business men and women, activists, students, doctors and mothers who just want justice, I remembered my soul.

Every day I go to work to help create a more just world and everyday I forget that we live in a world full of people who are struggling and suffering. I get caught up in the stresses and busy-ness of life and work, I get caught up with e-mails and logistics and I forget the fight. I forget who we are fighting for, what we are fighting for and why we are fighting!

And these hippies and hooligans; they filled me in.

We are fighting for the people. For us. For our families. For the children we don't yet have.

We are fighting because we are human and our greatest need is to unite with others, survive and actualize.

We are fighting because we care and because the world needs our passion.

We are fighting because there's a world of generosity and kindness waiting to erupt.

We are fighting because a world of greed and lies is poison.

We will fight today, tomorrow and even after the protestors go home.

Because we know deep inside that something's not right.

My stomach has quieted and my soul is now yelling.

Will you care?

Will you join the fight?

Invisible Heroes

It felt historic. The cavernous walls, the sweet scent of incense and the warm candles danced off the room creating the perfect ambiance as everyone took a seat and greeted one another. The air was rich with kind and eager eyes as Ilan Sibony, owner of Darna, spoke to us and I felt everyone's guards begin to fall away. Ilan explained to us that his dream for his restaurant was to be a home, "for all those who dream about a true peace between ourselves and our neighbors." What better place to bring together people who are so courageously fighting for peace?

 Just 30 minutes earlier we had walked into Mamilla hotel lobby and were greeted with a mixture of "Shalom" and "Hello" from the group of men standing there. The group was comprised of 1 Rabbi, 5 Jewish Israeli soldiers, 4 not Jewish American soldiers, the Attorney General of Washington State, the First Gentleman (the Governor's husband), the Director of Veterans Association of Washington State and his wife who is a bodyguard for the Governor of Washington.

 Then there was us.

My aunt, Paula Begoun, who is an incredible firehouse of a woman, was sponsoring a dinner for Hope for Heroism, an organization that helps wounded Israeli soldiers heal their physical and emotional wounds and piece their lives back together.

 Passing by any of these unsung heroes on the street, one would ever know what they have done and what they continue to do for their country. There was no pretense, there were no false cheers or placating; there were just people trying to connect and understand one another, creating a true feeling of brotherhood between people, who from face value, couldn't be more different. But here we all were, breaking bread and sharing stories, advice and blessings, at a Moroccan restaurant in Jerusalem.

 The soldiers began to speak and my heart did as well:

 My heart broke as the soldiers described how they had to fight for their benefits once they left the army, either because they were injured or because their service was up.

 My heart raged as they explained that they had to get proof that they were injured with letters from their superiors and their doctors and tests and more.

 My heart cried as they described the loneliness and pain of living with PTSD (post-traumatic stress disorder) at a time that no one knew what it was.

My heart cried again when they spoke of returning to a home where no one understood what they had gone through, who called them lazy and good for nothings demanding, "What's the matter with you?”

They felt their sense of manhood and sense of self wither away day by day.

But then my heart rejoiced when I saw a room of soldiers, politicians, civilians and rabbis from all religions and ethnicities unite over a shared experience, as their guards came down, religious difference were swept aside and all that remained was their humanity and their longing to be whole and to heal.

 As an American, and a Jew I have immense amount of gratitude to both the countries that I call my home.

Everyone in the world should have immense amount of gratitude to any army that is fighting evil and uprooting destructive forces. Even if it's not in your neighborhood, it reverberates throughout the world. Even if you don't support the actions, we must support the men and women who, too often and literally, sacrifice their lives so we can live in a safer world.

 It is so easy to forget that we are at war and that there are people every day, people who are mothers and fathers, wives and husbands, sons and daughters who are fighting for us; for our safety, for our peace of mind and for our lives.

When they come home from war is the time our support is needed most. For many people who can no longer serve, who are disabled in their early 20's, a time when most others are at their physical prime, we need to remember that it is because of them that we can sleep at night. It is because of them that we can send our children to school and know they will be safe and it is because of them that we can live.

 Next time you get upset about the war and want to complain, instead, say a kind word to a neighbor, smile at a stranger, give your seat to someone who looks weak, or make peace with a relative.

These brave men and women are giving their lives to bring peace in the world; at least let's support them in that.