On April 22, 1979, terrorists from the Palestine Liberation Front landed by boat in Nahariya, northern Israel, and went looking for Jews to kill.
They broke into the home of Danny Haran, took him and his four year old daughter Einat Haran to the beach, shot Danny, and then murdered Einat by crushing her skull with a rifle butt, while inside the apartment Smadar Haran hid with her 2-year-old toddler and, trying to keep her silent from the men searching for them, accidentally suffocated her.
One of the attackers, Samir Qantar, would later be celebrated as a national hero in Lebanon and was ultimately released in a prisoner exchange for the bodies of 2 Israeli soldiers who were abducted and killed by Hezbollah.
This is exactly what they mean when they chant about "resistance."
Pictured below is Danny Haran and his two daughters.HY"D
Amid all the nonsense on X, we sometimes forget that Israel, a tiny country of 10 million people, now controls the airspace over Tehran, a city nearly 1,000 miles away.
To get there, Israeli planes fly hundreds of times over enemy countries, hit their targets & return-without a single casualty.
It's remarkable that this has become unremarkable.
43 points for Zevi in his final college game. Incredible.
I’ve loved watching you play basketball, Zevi. More importantly I’m amazed at the man you are. You give me hope the world can and will be better.
Always your fan…bigger than basketball.
https://t.co/aFwrpWM92V
#d3hoops #whyd3
Our next door neighbor’s daughter was married tonight. The wedding was supposed to be an hour and forty-five minute drive from here near the Gaza border. Hundreds of people were supposed to attend. Instead, the wedding was moved to Mitzpe Yericho (where we live) and according to Israeli law during war, less than a hundred people attended.
I have heard of many weddings that have taken place since the start of the war a week and a half ago. None of these weddings looked like the weddings the bride, groom, or their families imagined as they were planning them. Yet the resilience of the Jewish people directs them to go forward with the wedding and not push it off.
Life goes on and it grows here in Israel. You can try to kill us, but it won’t even change a wedding date!
The Tigers should wear an alternate jersey based on Thomas Magnum's shirt at least once a season. I’m going to keep saying this every year until someone in that organization finally listens to me.
When the terrorists came to the home of 83-year-old Shlomo Ron in Kibbutz Nachal Oz, they found him waiting for them, on a couch near the window.
An 83-year-old man with a cup of coffee in his hands. He wasn't armed; he was just waiting.
Hamas barbarians shot dead the man they thought was a lonely old man at point-blank range, murdered him, and moved on to the next house.
That was why he sat that way.
Inside the house's safe room were Shlomo's beloved wife, Chana, his daughter, and his grandson.
Shlomo left the safe room so Hamas thinks he was the only one in the house and saved the lives of his wife, daughter, and grandson. He succeeded. Yesterday, his wife Chana passed away.
May their memories be a blessing.
There’s something about Israel that makes people uncomfortable, and it’s not what they say it is.
They’ll point to politics, settlements, borders, and wars. But scratch beneath the outrage, and you’ll find something deeper. A discomfort not with what Israel does, but with what Israel is.
A nation this small should not be this strong. Period.
Israel has no oil. No special natural resources. A population barely the size of a mid-sized American city. They are surrounded by enemies. Hated in the United Nations. Targeted by terror. Condemned by celebrities. Boycotted, slandered, and attacked.
And still, they thrive like there’s no tomorrow.
In military. In medicine. In security. In technology. In agriculture. In intelligence. In morality. In sheer, unbreakable will.
They turn desert into farmland.
They make water from air.
They intercept rockets in mid-air.
They rescue hostages under the nose of the world’s worst regimes.
They survive wars that were supposed to wipe them out, and win.
The world watches this and can’t make sense of it.
So they do what people do when they witness strength they can’t understand.
They assume it must be cheating.
It must be American aid.
It must be foreign lobbying.
It must be oppression.
It must be theft.
It must be some dark trick that gave the Jews this kind of power.
It must be blackmail.
Because heaven forbid it’s something else.
Heaven forbid it’s real.
Heaven forbid it’s earned.
Or worse, destined.
The Jewish people were supposed to disappear a long, long time ago. That’s how the story of exiled, enslaved, hated minorities is supposed to end. But the Jews didn’t disappear. They actually came home, rebuilt their land, revived their language, and brought their dead back to life — in memory, in identity, and in strength.
That’s not normal.
It’s not political.
It’s biblical.
There’s no cheat code that explains how a group of people return to their homeland after 2,000 years.
There is no rational path from gas chambers to global influence.
And there is no historical precedent for surviving the Babylonians, the Romans, the Crusaders, the Inquisition, the pogroms, and the Holocaust, and still showing up to work on Monday in Tel Aviv.
Israel doesn’t make sense.
Unless you believe in something beyond the math.
This is what drives the world crazy. Because if Israel is real, if this improbable, ancient, hated nation is somehow still chosen, protected, and thriving, then maybe God isn’t a myth after all.
Maybe He’s still in the story.
Maybe history isn’t random.
Maybe evil doesn’t get the last word.
Maybe the Jews are not just a people… but a testimony.
That’s what they can’t stand.
Because once you admit that Israel’s survival isn’t just impressive, but divine, everything changes. Your moral compass has to reset. Your assumptions about history, power, and justice collapse. You realize you’re not watching the end of an empire. You’re witnessing the beginning of something eternal.
So they deny it.
They smear it.
And rage against it.
Because it’s easier to call a miracle “cheating” than to face the possibility that God keeps His promises.
And He’s keeping them still.
WARRIORS OF THE SKY: From the Chuppah (wedding canopy) to the Skies Over Iran.
Last Thursday night, a young man a student at the Sderot Yeshiva and a combat pilot in the Israeli Air Force stood under the chuppah, moments away from marrying the love of his life.
Just before the ceremony began, he received an urgent message from his commander:
“We have a mission tonight. Prepare to deploy.”
He asked if he should come right away.
The response was calm but serious:
“Get married, dance, bring your bride to her parents’ home. Then call us. We need every combat pilot we have tonight we’re striking Iran’s nuclear facilities.”
The wedding went on. But the guest list was suddenly missing a few key faces.
His fellow pilots close friends who had planned to dance with him on his wedding night had all been called back to base. One by one, they canceled.
The skies were calling.
There was no honeymoon. No time for celebration.
Just a quiet goodbye, a uniform replacing a suit, and a mission that couldn’t wait.
The Torah writes that in times of grave danger, even a groom may leave his chuppah to go to war.
Rarely is that played out in real life. But this week, it was.
The mesirut nefesh shown by both the groom, who left for a combat mission on his wedding night, and the bride, who supported him with strength and faith, is a testament to the quiet heroism that sustains Am Yisrael.
Thank you to Rabbi David Fendel, Rosh Yeshiva of Sderot, for sharing this story.
May this couple be blessed with a lifetime of peace and joy
And may our soldiers always return home safely and merit great success in their missions.
Am Yisrael Chai!
Credit: Naftali Berezin
THIS. IS. ISRAEL.
A bakery in central Israel.
The siren rings close to closing time.
The workers run to find safety.
When the siren is over they simply go home.
They thought they had locked up and it was already after closing time.
The next day they decided not to open.
Time to catch their breaths.
But they were “open.”
They had mistakenly not locked the door when they ran to the bunker.
People from the neighborhood came by the next day for food.
They found the door open.
But there were no workers.
They needed food but wanted to pay.
So, one after another people wrote down their name, phone number, and what they took on a napkin.
The owners and workers were stunned to come the next day and what they found on the napkins matched exactly what was now missing from the bakery.
I love my country!!!!