Playing Monopoly to the sound of warplanes
The old city in Tzfat Photo by Wikimedia Commons
By Rukhl Schaechter October 11, 2023
As soon as I heard that northern Israel was under attack on Wednesday, I called my sister Eydl in Tzfat. The city lies only 9-1/2 miles from the Lebanon border. I heard her pick up the phone. But instead of responding with her usual “Hi!” she was reciting tehillim, Psalms, as observant Jews do during times of extreme danger.
Just minutes before, the Home Front had ordered residents in the north to lock their doors and windows. There had been reports of terrorists infiltrating the nearby city of Ma’alot Tarshiha.
Pausing between chapters, she whispered to me that she was sitting with her pregnant daughter and son-in-law in a recessed corner of their home. Although some areas of Tzfat provide access to bomb shelters, parts of the “old city” and its artists’ quarter, where she lives, unfortunately do not.
After an hour, the IDF announced that there was actually no infiltration of hostile aircraft from Lebanon. A false alarm. But even if residents in the north weren’t under attack at that time, there are no guarantees for the future. Besides, the dread that she and the others must have felt during that half-hour, not knowing what was about to happen, will probably haunt them in the weeks ahead.
Ever since Simchat Torah ended, Eydl has been concerned not only about the physical safety of her community but also with the emotional toll the sudden war is exacting on them.
On Monday evening, I sat in on a Zoom meeting she was leading with fellow women of her tight-knit Haredi community. She told them that it was OK to feel scared, anxious and helpless as they tried to maintain a semblance of normalcy with their families in this sudden, frighteningly abnormal reality.
The meeting was conducted in English. In contrast with other Haredi communities throughout Israel, many Jews in Tzfat hail from English-speaking countries and speak mostly English with their families, neighbors and friends.
“Since 12:00 on Simchat Torah we’ve had, nonstop, flyovers every half a minute,” she said, informing participants like me who live outside of Israel. “The kids are listening. The parents are listening. And we’re all trying to make sense of what we’re experiencing. In a country where we don’t speak the language, we want to make sure what’s going on. That’s an added stress.”
The Zoom gathering was part of a consulting service Eydl co-founded 20 years ago that provides Haredi mothers with strategies for dealing with children who have behavior or learning issues.
This time, though, the focus was on the mothers themselves. Women in her community are often so busy caring for their husbands and children, running the household, and maintaining a job or volunteering that they forget to make time for themselves.
She explained how natural it is for people to become anxious and fearful during times of stress, but cautioned the women not to let these feelings overwhelm them, or they might not be able to function.
One woman in the group asked what she should do about her 12-year-old daughter, who has been talking endlessly on the phone with her friends on the latest updates about the war. She wonders if it might be best to tell her not to speak to her friends because talking about this might traumatize all of them. “It’s traumatizing to me!” she said.
Eydl nodded empathetically but said: “Keep in mind that children feel even less useful than we do at this time, so we need to give them tools to help them process what’s going on,” Eydl said. She showed a video of a group of families — parents and children — cleaning out their large miklat (bomb shelter), setting up desks with children’s books and sacred texts for learning Torah. “It kept the kids busy for a day and a half while there were flyovers all the time.” After the entire space was clean and the furniture and books were in place, the adults handed out snacks.
“For them this was a big victory,” Eydl said. “Cleaning the miklat and then all hanging out there and learning Torah. Getting the kids involved helps them a lot. So does baking a cake for the local police station or buying pizza for a group of soldiers patrolling nearby.
“And yes, if children need to speak to their friends, and if it means giving them privacy, that’s fine. But you can say to them: ‘OK, but just 5 minutes.’ And then when they’re done, take out a Monopoly game. That will keep your children busy for hours, as they hear the planes fly by.”
Another woman shared what she told her 8-year old granddaughter, who’s been very frightened since the war broke out. “I told her that 50 years ago, we had another war called the Yom Kippur War, and I still remember the nisim (miracles) that happened then. ‘In another 50 years you’re going to be a bubbie, and you’ll be able to tell your grandchildren the nisim you experienced in this war,’ I said to her. ‘Your tefilos (prayers) now are going to make a big difference.’ She smiled and the next day she organized tehillim-groups in her neighborhood with all these little girls! It was so sweet.”
“That was brilliant,” Eydl said. “Putting a positive spin on it, focusing on the miracles, is so important, for them and for us. Whatever we can do with our children to distract them from the noise outside is worth doing. Put mattresses on the floor and let your children jump on them; make an ice cream party or play musical instruments with them.
“It’s so important to say to all your loved ones — your children, your husband and your friends: ‘It’s OK. You’re not alone. We’re all in this together.’”
