Hakarat ha-tov

Today I did something I've meant to do for a while.

As I was taking the subway back from a meeting in the city, a uniformed National Guardsman got on the train. When we got to my stop, I walked over to him and said, "thank you for what you do." He seemed kinda surprised, but he managed to say "thank you" and I walked out.

I don't know if it's the heightened tension in Israel, the fact that my dad's decided to become a volunteer policeman, or the fact that I had just come from meeting a group of individuals who embody the concept of service, but it felt like the right thing to do.

Hakarat ha-tov is something I don't take lightly. I will always be indebted to this country for having served as a haven for my grandparents and great-grandparents, for having enabled my parents to pursue educations and careers and for having provided my family and me with rights and opportunities of which our ancestors would never have dared dream.

My synagogue has adopted the custom of reciting both the prayer for the government and armed forces of the United States and that for Israel aloud and in unison. I've always been irritated by those who stand idly during the former and choose only to recite the latter. The mere existence of a robust Jewish community worshipping openly and freely in a democratic society is reason enough to give thanks for America.

The fact that America's armed forces rely solely on volunteers -- and that those volunteers do indeed step up for service -- is a marvellous testament to the spirit that drives this great nation.

Whether or not it's reshit tzmihat ge'ulatenu is irrelevant; at the very least, it's some of the sunshine, water and soil that is enabling the ge'ulah to grow and we ought never to forget the role America has played in the development and continued sustainability of Israel and the Jewish people.