The rabbis tell us that the air of the Land of Israel makes us wise. That might be a little too much to assert, but I can say with great certainty that the air of the Land of Israel makes you aware.

As of this writing, I am in Israel visiting my daughter Dahlia. She is doing her national service in a Magen David Adom ambulance as a new olah, a recent immigrant who literally “went up” to the Land. My awareness has grown more than I can even begin to tell you. Much of what I have learned has been tremendously positive and inspiring, for instance, do you know that half a billion (with a b) birds migrate annually through Israel. That’s over a million birds per day. These include, miraculously, cranes and storks that rise on thermals in an elaborate spiral dance. I was privileged to witness this for only the second time in my life. Magnificent.

In another area entirely, a whole section of Tel Aviv, called Florentin, is simply overflowing with murals and graffiti — beautiful, thought provoking, heartfelt, and touching. I’ll be bringing home pictures, but one line I’ll share with you now: “You think I feel too much. I think you feel too little.”

The prophetic spirit of Judaism lives on.

Some of what I learned was inspiring, but also tragic. Gut-wrenching. Our family friends have a nephew who lost a leg in Lebanon. But he was nurtured back to health by an inspiring organization that works with military amputees. This organization helps them retain their perspective as respected dedicated warriors, not rejected invalids. It is as powerfully life-affirming as anything I have ever experienced.

All that, and more, comes to mind as I prepare to return to the United States and the whole heated anti-Semitic/anti-Zionist rhetorical swamp. Having seen those wounded warriors, who gave if not life, limb, in defense of our people, my contempt has only grown for those who arrogantly introduce their criticism of Israel with the words, “As a Jeeewwwww…” as if an accident of birth puts the opinionated as-a-Jew, however passionate, on the same level as those who offer “mesirat nefesh” — the turning over of their souls to defend innocent life. Now, to be sure, everyone has the right to his or her opinion. But not all opinions deserve the same respect. And those whose lives are on the line deserve more respect than we can even give. They are, moreover, a source of tremendous hope for the future. The people of Israel do indeed live.

B’shalom,

—Rabbi Robert L.Wolkoff