The Day We Split the Sea Ourselves -

And Met God on the Other Side

By ISH 

It was Sunday afternoon when the sky shook again. Another F-16 tore through the air. My son covered his ears, and my stomach turned. I hate that sound. I always have.

I hate war. I hate guns. I’m actually against the Second Amendment entirely. I believe—at a core level—that weapons are evil. But like all evil, they exist for a purpose. Evil exists so that goodness can be seen. So that it has contrast. So that we wake up.

I had planned to write this piece in the immediate aftermath of Israel’s surprise attack on Iran. But it took me until Sunday to sit down and find the words. I’m not sure why. Maybe the delay had something to teach me.

Israel has had this Iranian threat looming for my entire adult life. I remember Netanyahu’s cartoon bomb at the UN in 2009. I remember his repeated warnings: Iran must not acquire nuclear weapons. I remember him defying a sitting U.S. president and addressing Congress—uninvited. The world mostly ignored him. But he never stopped.

With every passing year, the threat grew. Iran funneled missiles and drones to its proxies. Israel responded—sometimes with surgical strikes, sometimes with brief ground operations. Always calculated. Always holding back. Always kicking the inevitable further down the road.

Then came October 7th. And everything changed.

I remember thinking: If Israel doesn’t wipe Hamas off the map completely, then all the deaths—past and future—will have been for nothing. Thank God, this time they didn’t stop short. They stood firm. Under immense international pressure and with few allies by their side, they pressed forward—not recklessly, but relentlessly and strategically.

This was not an impulsive decision. It was twenty years of planning, from intercepting Hezbollah beepers to building the Iron Dome that protects civilians. Yes, lives were lost. Each one a world. But not a world gone up in smoke—a world given, so others could live in safety.

This piece isn’t about glorifying the Mossad or praising the might of the IDF—though both are extraordinary. It’s not about Israeli ingenuity, or even just about the miracles we’ve seen from God—though those too are undeniable. What this is about is courage.

Courage to act without waiting for the world. Courage to move without asking for permission. Courage to finally take the shot.

Because no one is coming to save us.

Yes, we have allies. Yes, much of our military equipment comes from the United States. But planes parked on the runway don’t defeat enemies. Action does. Decisive, self-possessed, terrifyingly honest action.

And what do you know? After twenty years of fearing this very moment, the regime began to collapse in hours. Twenty years of fear—dismantled in twenty minutes—once Israel stopped hesitating.

That’s the miracle. That’s how God moves. Not when we wait passively, but when we face the fire. When we step forward, even while shaking. That’s when seas part. That’s when threats crumble. That’s when fear dies. Because courage activates the divine.

Each one of us has a job to do. And no one’s coming to do it for us. We move first. God shows up second. Always.

So what I’m most proud of isn’t just military success or strategic brilliance. I’m proud of the restraint Israel showed for decades. No other nation with this level of power would’ve waited this long—enduring rockets, kidnappings, and terror—when carpet bombing would’ve been easier. And yet they waited. They held. Until it was time. And when the time came—they acted.

Am Yisrael Chai. Am Yisrael Proud.

And still, I hate war.

I hate that this is what it took. I hate the roar of jets and the fear in our children’s eyes. But if we must fight—let it be with courage, with conscience, and with care. Let it be the kind of war we never wanted—but refused to lose.

-  איש