The latest update from Dr. Binyamin Klempner guest in episode 276 of The Yakking Show. He writes about the timidity of policy-makers, frisbees, minefields and more. Binyamin shares a unique perspective on the war and the conditions facing the soldiers. He is a civilian on the front line, helping to bring some comfort to soldiers away from their homes and families. He has to navigate minefields – real and administrative. Something few civilians get to experience. Earlier updates from Israel can be found here.
I wish I could say that we’re winning this war. But we’re not winning. We’re losing. And the reason we’re losing is because of the timid morality of policy makers. But let me put a face on losing so that it’s not abstract. The face of losing is the burnt off face of a 21 year old young man. The burnt off face of a young soldier. A soldier engaged in battle with strategic disadvantage. Because policy makers call the shots, the young soldier’s face is burnt off.
The things we spoke about. Timid lying morality (i.e. Anti-Israel Protests). “So where do you live?,” I asked. “I live in the United States. Just came here for reserve duties. I’m a PhD student at Oklahoma State.” He told me that his brother studies at a Liberal Arts College, on the East Coast. The protesters shut down his brother’s campus. His brother was told by campus police to stay in his dorm room. Not to come out of his room.” I had a dear childhood friend who went to the same Liberal Arts College. The guy came back from his first semester with a tattoo on his outer bicep of the Doctor, Reverend Martin Luther King Jr. I’m also a big fan of Dr. King’s speeches. Listen to him for inspiration. (I’ve Been to the Mountaintop, Knock at Midnight, The Drum Major Instinct, The American Dream, The Bennett College Speech). But a tattoo of the guy, no matter how much you like him, might be going a bit too far. But it makes a point. Not sure what the point is. But it makes a point.
Meanwhile, as I made the guys coffee the soldier showed me painful photos of the tent encampment at his brother’s college. He showed me pictures of the mock body bags set up by the protesters. Timid lying morality. Those students know little about courage. And little about nobility. And even less about moral terror. As I handed a cup of espresso to the soldier next to me, he handed it to the guy next to him until it went to the last guy in the circle. Nobody would take before the other guy took. No timid lying morality in a battle camp.
A call came in. One minute later the guys were outfitted in helmets, jackets, and night vision. I watched their backs as they walked, disappearing with their M4’s into the dusk orange bush.
A quote from Elie Wiesel (Excerpted from a speech given to the American Academy of Achievement). Something to think about:
You can be a silent witness, which means silence itself can become a way of communication. There is so much in silence. There is an archeology of silence. There is a geography of silence. There is a theology of silence. There is a history of silence. Silence is universal and you can work within it, within its own parameters and its own context, and make that silence into a testimony. Job was silent after he lost his children and everything, his fortune and his health. Job, for seven days and seven nights, he was silent, and his three friends who came to visit him were also silent. That must have been a powerful silence, a brilliant silence.
I’m lounging back on this massive (and very comfortable) sofa under the shade of camouflage netting, M-16 by my side, sipping a shot of espresso. Telling the guys about my children, the places I’ve lived, the Grateful Dead, LSD, Carl Jung, my work as a sound therapist, sonic massage, Satmar the place, Satmar the concept, Satmar the heritage, farming, kibbutz life. Jerry Garcia, over an iPhone speaker, singing, “You are the eyes of the world…You are the song that the morning brings.” We were having fun. Then the commander stepped out of his office. Announced that a soldier was seriously injured in Metula. One of the guys I was speaking with looked at me with eyes so black and so big I’ve never in my life seen anything like it. His eyes were big black oceans of pain. Big black orbs of fear and terror. For several moments my eyes held the terrible weight of his eyes and of all that they contained. Our eyes almost merged into one. A cyclops eye. Then he looked away. I was relieved. His eyes were too big and heavy. When he looked back his eyes had returned to status quo.
Here’s the best war story I’ve heard so far. It sort of says it all. I ask this Paratrooper if I should give the guys on the next outpost over, a few kilometers away, a frisbee. The outpost is on the side of a mountain without much place to toss a frisbee around and I’m afraid the frisbee might end up in Syria, or worse, in a minefield. The soldier tells me that recently some guys in that outpost were kicking around a soccer ball when it rolled onto a minefield and the guys stationed in that outpost walked through the minefields to get it. I said, “Well that was really stupid. It must have been Netzach Yehudah guys. That’s something only Netzach guys would do.” Laughing he said, “No. It wasn’t Netzach guys.” “Oh. It must have been Golani guys. Golani guys would do something like that.” Not laughing, he said, “No. It wasn’t Golani guys…actually…it was Paratroopers…” “Paratroopers!!!…Paratroopers are supposed to be smarter than that…” “I know,” he said, continuing,”……but those guys really wanted to get their ball back…”
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The war still goes on. Support it, deny it, either way, it’s your war.
If you’d like to donate, the soldiers really appreciate your support!
Here’s the link: 
https://thechesedfund.
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Also, here’s the link to my book, purchase a few copies for your local libraries.
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Stay safe! Stay courageous!
Binyamin Klempner