Asher Kahn
“They don’t like sweet meats or kugels, but the cholent and salads are big hits” S-H says to S-J. “Yes, I was worried I over salted the chicken for the last Shabbos meal, but they didn’t complain if in fact I did,” says S-J. “No news is good news at wartime!” says S-E. This is the chatter before Sunday’s weekly Torah Study. The “S” stands for Safta, and the group has dubbed themselves “The Saftot.”
The six women have been studying Torah together for over a year now in S-H’s apartment in Beer Sheva. Originally every Tuesday, now changed to Sundays for reasons later explained, they review that week’s Torah parsha and have robust discussion. All but one are originally American, the other South African, and all made Aliyah to Israel, the longest over 40 years ago and the newest about 5 years ago. All enjoy each other’s perspective, and they also find comfort as English speakers the opportunity to discuss in their native language. “I have been here for seven years and still have trouble in Hebrew,” says S-H.
The Saftot each have similar stories of spending hours in their safe rooms, hiding, terrified as the events of Oct. 7 unfolded. All are Shomer, so they could not communicate that day because it was Simchat Torah. Beer Sheva did not experience the direct conflict of terrorists in the streets, but it was still not far from where the worst atrocities took place.
They felt committed to still getting together the week following the Oct. 7 attacks, but prior to studying that Tuesday they naturally all felt so distraught. The heaviness of war was emotionally difficult to carry but even more acute was a desire to contribute in some way. For a group of women that spans ages from late 50s to mid-70s they weren’t going to get “called up” as reservists. So, they asked each other, what should we do? Nobody had an answer right then, they studied Torah and they collectively prayed for an answer before next week’s session.
Later that day, S-H told her husband that she wanted to find a way to support the troops and that her group was ready, willing and able. S-H’s husband called his closest connection, a cousin in his 30s active as a reservist. Without knowing his cousin’s role in the IDF, he asked if there was something the group could do to help. As fate would have it, his cousin travels to bases and camps identifying the supplies and needs of each and sources the necessary requests. “Have your wife call me,” he insisted.
The next phone call was the spark the Saftot needed, the proverbial answer to their prayers. The cousin explained to S-H that there was a unit of 14 soldiers stationed at the border of southern Gaza. It was an important stronghold so they would not be able to leave their position for an indefinite amount of time. The soldiers were pining for a kosher home-cooked meal. He encouraged S-H to WhatsApp the commander of the brigade and see if they could coordinate to have a home-cooked meal delivered to the unit.
The first meal the Saftot organized was for the next Shabbat. They set the menu and all six cooked individually at their respective apartments. Sweet and sour meatballs, kugels, rice, potatoes, salads, cakes, cookies and challah. A Shabbat feast (sans the wine, they were not allowed to provide alcohol to the soldiers). As an added touch, they wrapped up all the food containers in blue and white ribbons and inserted handwritten notes from children in the neighborhood.
S-H coordinated with the commander for the drop-off point. He told her to go to a particular army base not far from her apartment and a truck would come at 1 p.m. Friday before Shabbat. S-H had to go through a checkpoint, show her ID and explain to the guards they were dropping off the food. They were directed into the base and a truck showed up with two soldiers ready to accept the packages. There were hugs and support and she told them, “We think about you every day, every minute. We are all with you. But please, let us know if you liked the food or if you want anything different.”
That’s how they learned the soldiers in the unit don’t like sweet meats and kugels. They learned a lot during these past two months of now providing two meals a week, a dairy meal on Tuesdays and a Shabbat meal. For example, they needed to understand if the unit had a refrigerator to keep the meals from spoiling. They did not, but somebody donated one soon thereafter. They also learned that if the soldiers wanted the cholent they requested they would need a crockpot to keep it warm and fresh. So, the Saftot donated a crockpot, and they now deliver the cholent in a convenient bag that the soldiers can transfer into the donated hot pot.
They also got more efficient in their communication. They now have a WhatsApp group to coordinate multiple drop offs and discuss the menus for that week. This was especially helpful when the original commander was relocated and the new one could easily step in on the WhatsApp Group.
The Saftot discuss the menu before their weekly study, but another lesson they learned is that if they meet on Tuesday, it is already too late to prepare and cook for Wednesday and Shabbat. So, they moved their sessions to Sundays accordingly.
And now its Sunday and before the weekly Torah parsha you hear, “Who is making the chicken this week, and don’t forget, take it easy on the salt!”
This is a true story and written both with and for my mom, also known in the article as S-H. We protected the Saftot and others in the story by not using their real names. I live in the USA and my mom in Beer Sheva, Israel. We talk every Sunday but are now usually interrupted by rocket sirens, and my mom has to go to her shelter. I was terrified on Oct 7 when I was unable to talk to my mom until after sundown. We cried in joy and shared sadness when we finally spoke. We pray for the safety of the IDF soldiers and for all the people Israel.
Asher Kahn lives in Philadelphia.
