by Charles Samuel

Early in the sixth century BCE, Nebuchadnezzar's army invaded Israel, destroyed the Holy Temple in Jerusalem and pillaged the holy sites. The Jews were taken captive and exiled to Babylon, along with their treasures and precious artifacts. By the rivers of Babylon, the Children of Israel wept and remembered Zion. (Psalms 137:1)

The stolen wealth from his conquered neighbors supported Nebuchadnezzar's army and helped him build monuments to his glory.

In his capital city, Nebuchadnezzar built the legendary Hanging Gardens of Babylon. In testimony to his grandeur, each and every brick was inscribed with Nebuchadnezzar's name.

Several years ago, Saddam Hussein commissioned archaeologists to restore the city and its Hanging Gardens. Each and every new brick was inscribed with Saddam's name.

Believing he was the reincarnation of the great Nebuchadnezzar, he dreamt of restoring the Baby-lonian empire to its former size and glory.

During the dig, archaeologists uncovered a plaque on the right-hand side of the ancient city gate proclaiming Nebuchadnezzar's greatness. Saddam ordered stonemasons to place another plaque on the left-hand side of the gate, glorifying Hussein's greatness.

His national symbol now in place, Saddam then embarked on a campaign of terror in 1990-91, first in Iran, and then in Kuwait, and ultimately dreaming of recapturing Jerusalem.

The miracles experienced in Israel during that war were too numerous to mention. The newspapers were filled with images of people who were buried in rubble, yet walked away without a scratch. In all, 29 missiles fell - many in heavily populated areas - causing only one death. By contrast, one single scud missile fell on a U.S. barrack in Saudi Arabia, killing tens of soldiers.

"When the siren sounded at two a.m., Meir and his brothers from the building next door came and asked me not to stay at home alone. They figured an old lady like me couldn't take care of herself in the middle of the night, and asked me to return with them to their house to wait out the attack. I agreed.

A few seconds later, just as we left my house, and just before we reached theirs, the missile fell in the alley right between my house and theirs, totally destroying both houses."

When one person manages to escape death, we might say they just happened to be lucky. But when a few people are involved, we are amazed how they cheated fate. When dozens and even hundreds of people walk away from the devastating horror of a missile attack, they have defied all laws of chance and probability.

The Gulf War was particularly difficult for new Russian immigrants. Coming down the ramp from the plane, many kissed Israel's holy ground. Sadly, the first gift they received upon arrival was a gas mask. Many went to visit friends and relatives already settled in their own homes. Most chose to live in the center of the country, some in Ramat Gan.

One Russian woman tells her story:

"We were in a neighborhood in southern Tel Aviv during the first missile attack, visiting with other Russian immigrants living in the area. People in the poorer houses had not bothered to prepare a sealed room, so when the siren went off we all rushed to the nearby bomb shelter inside a large public building made of concrete and metal.

About 200 people gathered to seek shelter inside the formidable building. Some of us moved to the wall on the eastern side of the shelter, which served as a synagogue and the wall was filled with prayer books, Bibles and Torah books.

People were reciting Psalms over the sound of crying babies. Then came the explosion. Everything came crashing down around us. The shelter had taken a direct hit by a missile with 550 pounds of explosives. There was a smell of burning sulfur, and a thick cloud of dust filled the room.

Some people were thrown into the air. Others threw themselves to the ground and screamed wildly. When the noise stopped and the dust began to clear, the people frozen in shock began to get up and look around. Not one of the 200 people was hurt."

The next morning, Prime Minister Yitzhak Shamir visited the area with the Mayor of Tel Aviv. Shamir asked in astonishment if there really were people in the shelter during the attack. Mayor Lahat answered that indeed, there were two hundred, and all were saved by a miracle.

 

The streets of Tel Aviv are filled with children and adults wearing masks. This time they are not gas masks, but the traditional costumes celebrating the festival of Purim. People are walking to synagogue, carrying their gas masks in boxes slung over their shoulders.

It is the morning of February 28, 1991. Inside the synagogues, the Book of Esther, the epic story of a great turn of events, is read aloud. The wicked viceroy of Persia, Haman, plotted to murder all Jews in the kingdom. A sequence of events turned the tables, and the Jews were saved through the efforts of Mordechai and Esther. Purim celebrates the triumph of good over evil.

 

"When I returned from synagogue that morning, my children greeted me with singing and laughing. While we had been reading about the destruction of Haman, George Bush had announced that the Allied forces called a ceasefire. My six-year-old asked if they would write a book about Saddam Hussein that would be read in synagogue next year! I smiled.

Later that morning, at 10 a.m., Israeli Brigadier General Nachman Shai announced that we could remove the plastic sheeting from the windows and put away the gas masks. The threat of Scud missiles was over. We could start getting back to normal.

I rushed to the bedroom and ripped the brown plastic tape off the door and window frames. In my mind's eye, I again saw my family huddled together in our sealed room only a few days before. A thought occurred that gave me hope for the future. My daughter's comment about Saddam recalled our people's history of 2,000 years of exile. We've been scattered to the four corners of the earth, and plagued by persecution, pogroms and the Holocaust.

Ironically, while our enemies eventually disappeared, we Jews survived.

The "all clear" was sounded for the last time in foreign languages for those who had not yet learned Hebrew. For five minutes, the room was filled with a stream of voices in French, English, Russian, Rumanian and Ethiopian. These were just some of the languages we had learned in our long exile. I was witnessing the biggest miracle of all. The Jewish people were starting to return home. "