The chupah was in progress when a red alert siren pierced the air. Guests looked at each other, unsure of what to do. A few people moved quickly. Others hesitated. Most stayed in place, watching the Iron Dome’s interception light up the sky above. Despite the momentary tension, the wedding continued as planned.
This episode occurred before the war broke out with Iran. At the time, interruptions like these weren’t everyday events, but they weren’t entirely out of the ordinary either. People had grown accustomed to these unsettling reminders that life these days is anything but normal. But since that chupah, the situation has escalated dramatically.
At 3 a.m., between Thursday night and Friday morning, we were woken by a sharp, unfamiliar alert from the Homefront Command. Normally, we get some sort of heads-up, a warning that an alert might be coming. But this was different. The sound was urgent, unfamiliar. The screen didn’t just display a red alert; it stated that the emergency was extreme. We were not to follow the usual procedure of waiting ten minutes before leaving the safe room. This time, the message was clear: Stay inside until further notice.
We soon learned that Israel had launched a surprise attack on Iran, and retaliation was expected. This wasn’t the kind of short disruption of sleep we’ve grown used to. This was frightening. We gathered ourselves quickly and moved into our safe room, checking the news and waiting for updates.
WhatsApp groups lit up. People shared updates, asked questions, and tried to make sense of what was happening. Eventually, it became clear: While we could leave the safe rooms for the time being, we should prepare them thoroughly. We might need them for longer periods. Soon after, it was announced that schools and non-essential stores would be closed. Only grocery stores and essential services would remain open. Medical clinics would operate on a limited basis, and public transportation would be suspended. Additional public shelters were opened in the city.
To help people cope, municipalities and organizations mobilized. NATAL, which specializes in trauma from war and terror, organized an online support session with therapists. Beit Shemesh opened a resilience hotline, staffed by social workers and psychologists. Text messages and public broadcasts explained how to prepare safe rooms and respond to terror-related medical emergencies. On Shabbos, numerous radio stations stayed silent, breaking only to broadcast emergency alerts. Child-friendly programming streamed online to help parents manage children while home from school.
Many people canceled their plans. The weekly Friday t’filah at the Kosel for the safety of our soldiers, the return of the hostages, and the protection of am Yisrael was moved to Zoom. Travel plans were disrupted as flights were canceled and Ben Gurion Airport closed. Some resorted to traveling by boat to Cyprus or Greece to reach destinations abroad.
The strain on the medical system has been intense. Nine premature babies were transferred by medical bus from Carmel Hospital to the protected neonatal intensive care unit at Rambam Hospital. Baruch Hashem, the babies, their mothers, and the medical teams arrived safely.
My daughter, who, baruch Hashem, gave birth to a beautiful baby boy last week, was discharged early, along with many other women in the maternity ward. The goal was to clear the hospital quickly while still tending to patients’ medical needs. Since then, hospitals have been overwhelmed with patients seeking care, as most clinics are only partially functioning.
This past Shabbos, we celebrated our grandson’s shalom zachar. It was combined with the sheva brachos of our mechutanim. Our Friday night meal was interrupted multiple times by extended visits to the safe room. The booms we heard during those stays were louder and more frequent than what we had experienced before.
Couples are scrambling to find alternative wedding venues with proper shelters. The weddings have begun to resemble those of the early Covid era: simple, hastily arranged. But this time, at least, guests are free to socialize. A wedding was held last night in Nof Ayalon. Upon arrival, each guest was given both a table number and the number of a nearby shelter they could run to in case of an alert.
Our nightly siren tends to sound just after we’ve settled in for bed, prompting my husband and me to join our daughter, son-in-law, and newborn in our safe room, where they are staying. While there was one reported case of two people killed in their safe room, that was from a direct or almost direct hit by a ballistic missile. There were many reported cases where homes were completely destroyed, and the people in the safe rooms of those houses walked away without a scratch. Safe rooms save lives.
These are frightening times, heavy with uncertainty. Even as I write this column, my phone buzzes with a warning that another alert is on the way. People are exhausted due to a lack of sleep. Still, we do our best to carry on as normally as possible.
Please continue to daven for the recovery of the wounded, the safe return of the hostages, the success and protection of our chayalim and all security personnel, and for the safety of all of am Yisrael.
Suzie Steinberg, (nee Schapiro), CSW, is a native of Kew Gardens Hills and resident of Ramat Beit Shemesh who publishes articles regularly in various newspapers and magazines about life in general, and about life in Israel in particular. Her recently published children’s book titled Hashem is Always With Me can be purchased in local Judaica stores as well as online. Suzie can be reached at This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it. and would love to hear from you.
