“Do American Jews really care?” This is a question that has haunted us over the past two months. No one questioned American Jewry’s commitment and concern for our brothers and sisters in Israel after October 7th. We rallied, marched, packed bags, went on missions, and sent more money than ever to causes big and small; the Israeli slogan “b’yachad nenatzei’ach, together we will overcome,” resonated fiercely across the Atlantic. But on February 28th, when the war with Iran resumed, the call for unity was barely heard. While we ran around delivering Mishloach Manot, our brothers and sisters ran into their safe rooms. While we scrambled to get our teenage children to safety outside of Israel, our brothers and sisters were sending their teenage children into war. While we made Pesach plans around proximity to kosher food, our brothers and sisters made Pesach plans around proximity to bomb shelters. When the OU launched a pre-Pesach campaign to support those who were affected by the war, the response was not the same as it was after October 7th. Yes, we resumed our recital of Tehillim, but if I am being honest with myself, my kavannah was lacking. I don’t think it was just me. More embarrassingly, this question is not just in my head, it’s been posed to me by my friends in Israel. They too have noticed the muted response on social media, they too have observed how distracted we seem to be. They are starting to wonder if we really are our brother’s keeper. In Orot, Rav Kook invokes the famous tale of King Shlomo and the baby fought over by two mothers. One wholeheartedly agrees with his suggestion to split the child and the other loudly protests, willing to give up her motherhood to save the child. Rav Kook sees in this story a long-standing debate within the Jewish world. There is one view that is comfortable with splitting the nation. Be it on ideological grounds or geographic, they feel that there are differences that cannot be bridged and in order to survive, we may sometimes have to go our own way. The other view does not resolve the tension, it acknowledges that there are insurmountable differences, and yet is willing to forego those differences, even with grave results, for the sake of keeping the nation together. “She is the true mother!”, proclaimed Shlomo Hamelech. The one who recognizes that the essence of our nation is found in the unity of our nation, and our togetherness must be maintained at all costs, she can rightfully lay claim on Am Yisrael. On Yom Ha’atzmaut tomorrow evening, the people of Israel will celebrate how this small plot of land has turned into a flourishing country, housing the majority of Jews, with a thriving economy and military dominance, and the source of unprecedented Talmud Torah. Naturally, we will join them in celebration. But this evening on Yom Hazikaron, the State of Israel will come to a grinding halt. Every man, woman, and child, will pause to remember loved ones who gave up their lives for this dream of peoplehood. We may not have sirens, but the blood of our brother calls out to us. Can we pause and reflect on these heroes? Can we carve a moment out of our very different American reality to acknowledge the sacrifice of these brave men and women? It is not just this week of ‘Yoms’ that demands our attention. When was the last time I reached out to friends and family letting them know that I was thinking of them? One friend downloaded the app that lets him know when there is a siren alerting an incoming missile attack. Another friend told me how he sent a short text check-in message to everyone he knew in Israel over Pesach - including a WhatsApp to his last taxi driver. These small gestures made a deep impact. We all feel that sense of unity, but it behooves us to express it in actions, demonstrating our nesiat ol with our brothers and sisters.