Orthodox Jews study Torah in a public shelter in northern Israel during alarms and rocket and missile fire from Iran, June 15, 2025. Photo by David Cohen/Flash90.
By Rav HAYIM LEITER
JNS
I often feel like the “A-team” of rabbis: “If you have a problem and you can find me, maybe I can help.” I don’t operate out of a synagogue; I’m a spiritual freelancer in Israel—officiating weddings, guiding conversions, and most often performing brit milah (Jewish ritual circumcision). That freedom allows me to bypass politics and focus on what truly matters: helping people.
The week began with a wedding in central Israel, followed by five circumcisions. Then Israel went to war with Iran.
Ritual Can’t Wait
On the eve of the strike, I was called up north to perform a brit. As I arrived at the event hall, I noticed that many of the men, including the baby’s father, had the same buzz cut, though I didn’t think much of it. Just before the prayer for Israel’s soldiers was recited, a fighter jet roared overhead. I later learned the baby’s father was a pilot, living with his family on the base just down the hill. At 3 a.m., sirens rang out. My family and I ran to the bomb shelter. Israel had begun striking Iran’s nuclear sites.
As I roused a few hours later for the day’s events, we were all waiting for Iran’s retaliation. All citizens were required to stay near a bomb shelter. Israel had successfully incapacitated the facilities and eliminated most senior officials of the Iranian National Guard Air Force. There’s no way this would go unanswered, but Jewish circumcisions must be carried out on the eighth day, war or not.
Life Goes On
The first was in Jerusalem. As I raced through the city, I passed an elderly man—easily in his 80s—standing calmly on a street corner. No panic, no shelter in sight. He had clearly seen worse.
Only the immediate family gathered in the small apartment. As I prepared the baby in the grandfather’s lap, the father choked up as he recited the prayer for the safety of our soldiers, “God, bless and protect our soldiers […] on land, air, or sea.” Moments later the baby’s great-uncle updated us: 100 drones were en route. I packed my things and headed to the next brit milah in Modi’in.
The second family was grateful I made the trip in spite of the situation. In Israel, life goes on, even if it feels like the sky might fall. The parents named their new son Shalev, a prayer for tranquility or peace. And for a moment, it seemed that the prayer might be answered. As the ceremony ended, I was tempted to stay for some food, but then my phone lit up: “Drones arriving within the hour.” My drive was 50 minutes. Once again, I ran out the door.
I raced home to be with my family and reach shelter in time. As I turned the last corner, the alert came: “End of stay next to a protected space.”
Could it really be over?
The Mossad had set up a drone base in Iran and struck down all of the surface-to-surface missile-launchers while the Israeli Airforce intercepted the Iranian drones before they entered our airspace.
We live in miraculous times.
Shabbat Lull?
This initial success only lasted until Shabbat began. Just after we sat down for dinner, the sirens began again. For the first time since Oct. 7, we slept in our bomb shelter. It seems like this could be our reality for some time. While there, we, too, prayed for our soldiers and for all the citizens of Israel.
The second night of barrages was even more intense. It was declared a mass-casualty event, with at least 11 dead and 200 injured.
These are both miraculous and trying times. Most people who reach out to our family from around the world apologize for the situation. It’s true that none of this is easy. Half of our family was preparing to travel—my wife and son for a family wedding in the States, and I was meant to officiate at one in Spain. As much as we are sad to miss these happy occasions, we understand that neutralizing the threat from Iran is of paramount importance. We only pray that the cost of achieving this goal has already been paid.
Baby Ok, But Dad?
At some point along the way, I checked in with the mother from northern Israel to see how the baby was doing. The base was evacuated as the strikes began on Iran. “My husband left just after the brit milah,” she said, “and we haven’t heard from him since.”
After a circumcision, most parents are concerned with their newborn’s recovery. Israelis don’t always have that luxury. While most of the population was huddled in shelters, this baby’s father was in the skies protecting not just his own family, not just the Jewish nation, but the entire free world.
