JULY 16, ‘25 // For my family and me, one such moment came not in a shul, not in the middle of a shiur, and not in the serenity of a Shabbat afternoon — but in the middle of a busy international airport. We were returning home to Yerushalayim after attending a beautiful wedding in England. Spirits were high, the simchah was still fresh in our hearts, and we were already imagining being back in Eretz Yisrael. After checking in, we proceeded to the security screening area — that standard, sometimes stressful part of air travel we all endure. But this time, things took an unexpected turn. As we went through the line, all three of our carry-on bags—mine, my wife’s, and our daughter’s—were flagged and pulled aside for manual inspection. A security officer approached me, somewhat serious in tone, and asked, “Do you have anything sharp or a weapon in your luggage?” I was puzzled. “No,” I replied honestly. He opened my daughter’s bag first. After some digging, (and even ignoring the full water bottle) he pulled out her siddur — small, simple, well-used. With a straight face, he took a special brush, wiped it thoroughly, and ran it through a high-powered X-ray scanner. Then something remarkable happened: the screen lit up, indicating something “sharp” had been found. Next, he opened my bag. Out came my well-worn Gemara. Again, he brushed it down, scanned it, and again — flagged. Sharp. Lastly, he turned to my wife’s bag. After a thorough inspection, he discovered her beloved Tehillim. It, too, went through the same process — and once again, the machine responded the same way: sharp object detected. Three holy sefarim. Three flags. Three false alarms, or perhaps… not so false at all? At that moment, a chill ran down my spine — not from fear, but from awe. It felt as if even the machines, even the guards, could “sense” something that we often forget in our daily lives: Our tefillah, our Torah, our connection to Hashem — are our weapons. Raw, spiritual power. “With My Sword and With My Bow” When Yaakov Avinu prepared to confront the challenges ahead, he told his son Yosef: אֲשֶׁר לָקַחְתִּי מִיַּד הָאֱמֹרִי בְּחַרְבִּי וּבְקַשְׁתִּי (בראשית מ"ח:כ"ב) — Which I took from the hand of the Emorite with my sword and my bow. Rashi famously explains: בחרבי ובקשת, זו תפילה — My sword and bow, this means prayer. There are moments in life when Hashem sends us a quiet, unmistakable reminder of just how powerful the spiritual tools we carry really are. 116
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