The update for the week of March 7 to 13 on the situation in Israel from Binyamin Klempner a guest in video episode 277 of The Yakking Show (or audio only.) Binyamin writes about trauma and brings a different perspective to that broadcast in the media. I remember how biased the media was back in the 1970s when Rhodesia and South Africa were the targets of the liberal propaganda machine. You can see Binyamin’s previous updates here.
Dear Friends,
The things we spoke about. Continuing education. I didn’t ask where the soldier was from, but he was a good-looking guy with a Mediterranean look, a few weeks unshaven, a few months without a haircut, and a few earrings. The soldier asked what I do for a living. I told him that I do sound therapy using gongs and chimes. That is good for PTSD. Meditative. Hypnotic. He said that he’s very into alternative therapies. He asked about my degree. I told him that I have a Ph.D. in psychotherapy. He said before the war he was going for a certificate in counseling but didn’t like the professor. The professor had his way of doing things, his way of thinking, and he wanted his students to do and think like him. They couldn’t get along, so the soldier dropped out of the program. I told him I see him working with at-risk teens. I told him, “You know. The type that’s into sex, drugs, and getting into trouble. I see you doing well with this type of kid. They’ll relate to you. You’ll help them.”
His face lit up. He said, “That’s exactly what my older sister and grandmother tell me. How’d you see that about me?” “It’s obvious. Just looking at you it’s obvious,” I said. His face was glowing. I continued, “You need to suck up your pride and get through a course. When you want to drop out, remember why you’re there. You’re there for the kids. Not for the certificate or the degree. Not for the education in and of itself. You’re there for the kids. You’re only there for the kids. When you remember that you’ll keep your mouth shut, let the professor say whatever he wants, and you’ll get through it.” “You’re right. But I think I’d rather be a teacher than a counselor. I’d like to teach troubled kids.” “Sounds good. You’re gonna make an impact in their lives.” We gave each other a big hug and I continued on my journey.
The things we spoke about. The Beauty Business. The soldier, an MP, told me all about her beauty salon in Nahariya. She told me how much she misses the salon. She told me how much she misses her clients. By now they’ve all brought their business to other local beauticians. She spoke of her concerns. Will her clients come back to her? Will she need to rebuild her business from scratch?
The things we spoke about. Strategic speaking. As I was making espressos for a group of military police on the side of the road, one of the female MPs, a gorgeous girl in her mid-twenties, clearly the child of an Ethiopian parent and an Ashkenazi parent, with long kinky hair, told me that in one month she’ll be going to the US to speak at Jewish Federations throughout the country about her experiences in the war. “Listen,” I said, “The job you’ll be doing in America is a lot more difficult, and probably a lot more important than the job you’re doing here. But there are things you need to know. To be aware of. You’ll need to be strategic.
Many American Jews are on the fence regarding their support for Israel. Right after October 7th, American Jews were by and large very supportive. Not so anymore. Hamas has done a wonderful job spinning the narrative of our brutality. And many American Jews don’t like Bibi.” At this point, her commander, a tall withdrawn fellow of about thirty years of age, clearly intimidated by this soldier’s good looks, and taken aback that I also shouldn’t be intimidated to speak with her, piped up, “Chuck Schumer?” The girl asked, “What does Chuck Schumer have to do with anything?”
The officer said, “He called for Israel to have new elections because he doesn’t like our prime minister.” The soldier said, “This is a democracy. Like him or not, Bibi is the PM the majority voted for. Anyway, what’s Chuck Schumer getting involved in Israeli politics?” “The bottom line,” I said, “is to be aware of the political situation in the United States. When you speak, be savvy about the political situation. Dance with your words. And, very importantly, above all else, tell them how much pride you have serving alongside Druze and Bedouin soldiers. Tell them about your experiences serving with Druze and Bedouin soldiers. Let them know the IDF isn’t just about Jews. It’s also about Druze and Bedouins.” “In other words,” she said, “let them know we’re not racists.” “Exactly!”
Why do I write? I’m not sure if I should. But the people, including the soldiers, have been traumatized. And, listening to their stories, I’ve been traumatized. And, so it is, I wish to pass that trauma on to you, my dear reader. So that together, we can share in the trauma. Together, we can share the pain. Voyeurism brings about a sense of perverse pleasure, but I don’t share this to give you pleasure. I share, so that you can experience the darkness and share in the pain. Perhaps, dear reader, you read this like someone going to a peep show, but, as a writer, I hope that, rather than witnessing what you had come prepared to see, you witness an atrocity so heinous that you become a witness and a sort of participant. A participant forever changed, forever pained, with no recourse but to go forward with new chronic pain of the soul.
The things we spoke about. Trauma. Young guys. “You know…we were in Gaza.” “Hmm,” I said, “you were in Gaza. This must be a vacation compared to Gaza.” “No. I wouldn’t say it’s a vacation. It’s boring. Gaza was never boring. In Gaza, we woke up early. Fought until two. The fighting stopped. The fighting always stopped around two. We rested until the next morning. Never boring. Here, we can go crazy. Too little to do. Too much time to think. To remember what we went through. Here, our mission is to return the North to the people who live here. To the people who live here but are now living elsewhere because of the situation with Hezbollah.
After we left Gaza, before coming to the North, we went through a three-week mental health debriefing. Speaking about the things we saw. They patched us up with emotional band-aids. Then sent us home for a few days. Now we’re here….You know…when a soldier is killed it’s the commander’s job to knock on the door of his parents and inform them of the loss of their son. A commander is usually in his early twenties. He needs to go through life with the experience of telling his fallen mate’s parents that their son won’t be coming home. That’s why commanders go first. They don’t want to be the one’s to inform the parents. They would rather be the ones to die.
You know…we were also in Be’eri October 7th.” “You were in Be’eri October 7th. Tell me about that.” “We saved two hundred and fifty people. Bringing them from their homes to places where they could be rescued and taken out of the area. We were being shot at by the terrorists. We were also being shot at by the residents. They also have guns. They didn’t know who we were. They didn’t know which side we were on. So they shot at us also. Because we didn’t know who was firing at us, we didn’t fire one round all day. And still, we saved two hundred and fifty people. But it was very difficult. Many dead bodies. The bodies of terrorists. But also the bodies of the Jewish people. Bodies of babies. Children. Men. Women. Old people.
Bodies all over the place. Just lying there. These were the things we saw. I went into one house. There was a young mother holding her baby. The mother handed me her baby and yelled at me to revive her baby who she needed to believe was still alive. The mother wanted me to make her baby start breathing again. Start crying again. But the baby had already been dead for hours.” The soldier asked me how he can go through life having had such experiences. I told the soldier that, like people who have lived with trauma before him, he needs to integrate the stories, make them his, live with them without trying to cut them off, let the stories be a part of him, and bring those stories with him as he goes through life. The soldier gave me a few army rations to bring home to my kids, walked me to my car, thanked me for listening, and we gave each other a great big hug.
This wasn’t a story I wanted to share. But it’s a story that demands sharing. I’m just the unfortunate storyteller. And yet, as I tell the stories, the stories become my stories. And as you read, the stories become your stories.
https://thechesedfund.com/theunityfarmfoundation/support-our-israeli-soldiers
Stay safe! Stay joyful!
Sincerely,
Binyamin Klempner