An Exceedingly Good Land

With the exception of a few articles at the start of the war, I have not really written anything since COVID.

COVID lasted a long time. What was I going to write? “Minyan continues on the street (unlike the U.S.). I am saying kaddish for eight different people in the U.S. who cannot. Everyone is hunkering down at home.” That was COVID for us.

People got sick. Sadly, people died. Most establishments were closed (thankfully, my business was considered vital and we remained open throughout—otherwise I would have gone out of my mind). We persevered and tried to be as normal as possible, considering.

After COVID, and after almost 15 years of writing about living here, I wasn’t sure what I still had to say. It’s not like our experiences are fresh off the boat. We’re coming up on our 19th aliyah-versary this summer; Goldie and I have spent more of our life together living here than living in the U.S.

The Aliyah Chronicles had become more like the Israeli Katz Chronicles. I felt like it would be harder for readers to connect to our lives now. And yes, the turmoil here was disheartening.

After COVID, things were difficult. Elections after elections. Mass protests. Politicians acting worse than spoiled children (they still do). Reservists threatening not to show up for duty. It really felt like we were falling apart.

For so many years, I have been an advocate for living here. I have written articles and encouraged people to be part of the dream of generations. Despite the fact that I sometimes wrote about negative things that happened, it was always in the context of the natural ebb and flow of life and also with an understanding that, overall, the experience of life here was a net positive for the Katz family.

With all that was going on and with the heated debates it engendered, I did not want to be caught sinking into the muck of the political situation. I did not want to seem to be projecting negativity. I was torn in my own beliefs, because I, too, thought that Bibi had overextended his welcome and that it was indeed time for a change (still do). Not a change in course—but a change in leadership (and unity).

Then came October 7. And it has never really gone.

It seemed like we were under attack from all sides. And the threats were real and significant. War casualties were piling up—kids we knew and kids we felt we knew—and the hostages were constantly on our minds. It has been a difficult and draining period. I simply wasn’t up to sharing.

I have noticed something, though, over the last half year. A realization of sorts.

In October 2023 we were at a terrifying nadir. We had suffered an unimaginable attack and were afraid of additional attacks from Syria, Lebanon, Yemen, Iran, and who knows who else. Hamas and Hezbollah were continuously shelling us from the North and the South. We had no idea where the next hit would come from. And because of the constant infighting and internal turmoil we had no idea who would do what.

Take a look now.

The current generation of youth stepped up in a way that is indescribable. They basically said, “We’ve got this,” and shouldered the burden of the war. Kids came home from abroad (like our son). Parents spent months away from their families. Sons and daughters had their service terms extended again and again, yet they showed up and they fought and they led. Some did not come home. And it hurts, more than I can explain.

The fate of the hostages still weighs upon us, and we still suffer losses in Gaza. But at this point, the threat to civilians is minimized. It may take years to finish the military operation and neutralize the threat. But we seem to have most of that in hand, at least as well as can be expected.

In the grand scope of things, it could have been, and could still be, much worse.

Let’s look at the other fronts.

When we started all this, we were terrified of Hezbollah. They were much better armed than Hamas. Their rockets were more advanced and more dangerous. We expected tens of thousands of casualties when war eventually erupted.

People bought generators, thinking that the power grid was threatened. We were told to stock our bomb shelters with supplies because we might need to stay there for days on end. Though we were confident of winning, we wondered about the cost; we were really expecting Hezbollah to cause major damage.

Syria was a threat, as well. Assad had been housing Iranian officers and munitions and was a major funnel of weapons to Hezbollah.

The Houthis were bombing us and interrupting shipping on a regular basis.

And the big daddy of them all was Iran.

They were going to wade in rivers of our blood. They had money and military capability to shell us with rockets and missiles. They were the leaders of the entire Axis of Evil they had put together. No one could predict what they would do to the nation they have sworn to destroy.

Fast-forward to today: Syria? Regime change. They’re not threatening us right now, and reports are they might want to reach some kind of non-aggression deal. Lebanon? Hezbollah has publicly told Iran that they are sitting this one out. Yemen? Ineffective at best. We knock out their rockets and then bomb the snot out of them. Their aggressions are now few and far between. And Daddy? We knocked out all his air defenses, killed a whole bunch of his military and scientific leaders, are busy eliminating his offensive capabilities and infrastructure, and had the real Big Daddy just bomb his nuclear facilities.

Could it all be a head fake? Could there still be threats and dangers? Of course! But if I had told Shmuel of October 2023 what Shmuel of June 2025 was experiencing, he’d have thought I was crazy.

And here is the thing. There is no way to attribute all we have seen and lived through to anything other than G-d’s handiwork. We are living in a time of open miracles. How else can we explain the limited, although painful, losses we have suffered? They shoot hundreds of missiles and cause physical damage but very little human damage, thank G-d. Because G-d has given us technologies to protect ourselves, shelters to protect us, and luck.

Soroka Hospital in Beer Sheva suffered a direct hit and the building was badly damaged. But because the building was not fortified, they decided to empty the building of patients. No one was in it. So yes, G-d let them hit us, but He made sure it would be an empty building. Even our enemies say that we have magic and protections they cannot understand.

We just passed the story of the meraglim this year. I didn’t realize it until I was preparing for Shabbat, so it was too late to write something. And because of that, I shed a few tears on Shabbat thinking that people might get the impression that they should be happy not to be here under the specter of war. People might think we are trapped here (with the skies closed) and that this might not be the place to be.

The truth is that this is literally the place to be, bar none. We live miracles every day. What more could we ask for?

Are we missing our niece’s wedding because the skies are closed? Yes, and it hurts (sorry, Srulie and Debra, but mostly Batya). Would we have wanted to see our children/grandchildren in New Jersey? Absolutely. We bought the tickets. It’s not our fault the flights were canceled.

But we are living an amazing life in the most incredible place. We witness miracles. We are part of the continuing story of the Jews’ return and strengthening of Israel. Our children (not just ours—the whole nation’s) are solidifying the future of our people. We’ve spent thousands of years yearning for this one thing. Where else should anyone want to be? טובה הארץ מאד מאד n

Shmuel Katz, his wife, Goldie, and their six children made aliyah in July 2006. Before making aliyah, Shmuel was the executive director of the Yeshiva of South Shore in Hewlett. You can contact him at [email protected]. Read more of Shmuel Katz’s articles at 5TJT.com.