At 4:05 A.M., my phone lit up with a headline I will never forget: A Houthi missile had evaded Israel’s air defenses and landed near Ben Gurion Airport. My heart skipped a beat.
In just a few hours, I, along with our cherished middle school director and beloved middle school math teacher, was supposed to accompany 16 eighth-grade students from Sinai Akiba Academy on the trip they had been anticipating since they were six years old. As kindergarteners, they had watched as the eighth graders before them departed for Israel, returning with stories of connection, pride, and adventure. And now, it was finally their turn.
But in that moment, everything was uncertain. I immediately called our head of school, waking her to discuss the unfolding news. Do we cancel? Delay? Postpone?
By 7:00 a.m., we convened on a Zoom call with our administrative team and Sinai Temple’s senior rabbis. The mood was contemplative and solemn. We were holding not just logistics in our hands, but the safety of 16 precious souls and the hopes of their families.
We are no strangers to uncertainty —whether walking the streets of Los Angeles or navigating the complexities of modern Jewish life. But this uncertainty carried weight: the weight of responsibility and of history. We knew we needed to hear from the parents. At 8:00 a.m., they joined us. We shared the news for those who hadn’t yet seen the headline. Our tour operator, speaking from Jerusalem, described a sense of calm on the ground —more preoccupied with a nationwide teacher strike than any sense of imminent danger.
And then, we laid out our options: postpone by a day or proceed as planned.
The Zoom screen changed view as one parent unmuted. His voice, steady and resolute, cut through the uncertainty:
“Since Oct. 7, our people and our homeland have been under attack. What makes today any different?”
One by one, other parents spoke up—not with fear, but with conviction. They shared their trust, their pride, their hope that we would carry on with our mission. Not one voiced hesitation. So, at 8:45 a.m.., we made the call.
We were going to Israel.
We rushed to gather, check in, take our group photo. At the airport, we joined hands for a final blessing—Tefilat HaDerech, the traveler’s prayer:
“May God guide us in peace, and return us in peace.”
As we concluded with the priestly blessing—“May God bless you and protect you”—I looked up. Parents were holding their children close, tears Filling their eyes. Yes, there was some fear. But more than that, there was pride.
Just last week, at our final pre-trip meeting, I told the students they were embarking on a historic journey—one they would remember for the rest of their lives, one they would recount to their children and grandchildren. I’m not sure they fully grasped it then. But I am certain they will one day.
Their parents on the other hand, from the moment we embraced at the airport, I could tell they understood the significance of this moment. They will always remember this morning—the morning after a missile reached the heart of Israel, the moment when fear could have won, but didn’t. They will remember that instead of retreating, we stood firm.
We chose courage.
We chose commitment.
We chose Israel.
Am Yisrael Chai.
Avi Taff is rabbi at Sinai Temple in Los Angeles.
