For five days, over 500 riders rode through the north of Israel gradually making our way towards the hospital in Jerusalem. Every time we thought the hardest part was over, we rounded the corner into even greater challenges. We would climb into the sun and then descend at incredible speeds over rocky footpaths. We rode on pavement, gravel, rocks, and mud. When the terrain flattened out, we shifted to the big gears and rode like the wind. When we finished for the day, we were covered in dust and sweat. At night, we would shower, eat three or four dinners, and crawl into bed. The next day we woke at 5:00 A.M., ready to do it again.

So now that I am home and starting to feel my legs and other parts of my body, I try to figure out just why the heck I loved it so much. I could say that it is all for the hospital, but you know what? I have seen many institutions that run on donations and nothing is as moving as this place. You see kids struggling to walk again. You see parents who receive a short phone call about a car accident and now practically live in the waiting room. You see doctors, therapists, and even medical clowns trying to get kids who thought their lives were over to smile again. We all should donate and raise money to help these kids, even if we don’t know how to ride a bike.

2007-11-08bThere is an old midrash that says “Without pain, there is no gain.” (O.K., if it’s not from a midrash then it’s from a Nike commercial, but you get the point.) All of us take on things that are challenging because of some vague hope that the result of our effort will be worth far more than the struggle we put ourselves through. It’s part of our nature as human beings to want to see just what we are capable of.

One day as we were resting our aching bodies and wolfing down chicken, one of the representatives from Alyn showed us pictures of some of the kids who were in the hospital. They had been injured in road accidents, terrorism, or suffered from muscular disease. For many of them, the challenge of learning how to walk is an even greater challenge than the one we all faced riding.

I was born forty years ago. For a while it has been difficult for me to admit that age was gaining on me. But you know what? I was faster than many riders younger than me and slower than some who were older. A guy who I rode with most of the way has a daughter who is forty. “You just can’t ride a bike at forty as fast as you can at eighteen.” Who says that?

We can do whatever we set our minds on. Every day we can find a new challenge. And we shouldn’t be turned away because the task appears too difficult. Because whatever hill you decide to climb, the harder the effort to get to the top, the more spectacular the view.

Will I do the ride again next year?

It’s not even a question. The only question is… will you ride with me?

Shabbat Shalom from our blessed nation.

Wheel of Love

I am writing on Friday right before Shabbat. Tomorrow night I leave for Tiberia to join the Alyn Charity Bike ride. About 500 men and women will be riding bikes from the North of Israel to Jerusalem. One week with nothing to do but ride. Talk about the ultimate vacation.

As much fun as these rides are, I have to remind myself why we are doing it. After all, the fact that 500 people get a break from work, family, and e-mail is nice, but it is only really significant for those of us who are riding. Of far greater significance are the kids at the Alyn hospital who are the beneficiaries of about $3,000,000 that we will raise from this ride.

Let’s face it, life is really, really hard if your child needs to stay in a hospital. The kids there are not ones with little scratches, these are kids who need attention around the clock. They will never be the same as before they came.

Most hospitals send family home at night. Not Alyn. Not only can parents stay there (in beds – not cots – round the clock, the waiting room has a refrigerator and showers. They even have a neat play area for the brothers and sisters of the patients who might be a bit nervous to visit a hospital.

As amazing as the facility is, the kids there are even more so. I met someone who has a severe muscular condition. He has no control over almost his entire body. He has a computer which he operates by using a stick manipulated by his mouth. Despite this challenge, he apparently set up a computer supply business on the Internet and is running it out of his room at Alyn. The guy who lives next door to him paints pictures. He paints by using a brush held in his mouth. Despite their serious conditions, they are not forced to wear the standard issue hospital robes which have that lovely habit of flapping open in the back. They can dress like anyone else. Yes, their rooms have medical equipment in them, but they also have posters and paintings and whatever personal touches they want.

Hey world, how about this story. While Israel was going after Islamic Jihad terrorists, a family was in the wrong place at the wrong time. An Israeli missile that killed an arch-terrorist also killed all the members of a Gazan family except for a father, son, and daughter. Go ahead and blame us if you want, but we all know that if the Jihadists stopped their Jihad, there would be fewer tragedies like this. Knowing that the terrorists’ goal is to kill Israeli children like my own, I can’t really say that we made a mistake. Yet the suffering of this innocent family is still a tragedy.

Anyway, this little girl, whose name is Maria, was so badly injured that she was taken from Gaza to Alyn. Her father, Hamdi, accompanied her, and he has never left her side. The government of Israel paid for her treatment for a year and then told the hospital to send her back. The only hitch is that in Gaza she would be dead within twenty-four hours. You see, our “peace partners” tend to spend all their cash on bullets and rockets instead of healthcare. So the director of the hospital told the government to stuff it, and Maria continues to receive treatment at Alyn. I wish her father could wheel Maria to Annapolis and ask the “peace conference” delegates to again explain how Israel is an Apartheid state. How much does the Palestinian Authority pay for the treatment of Jews injured by acts of terrorism?

I have found many special places in Israel. Some are special because of their spiritual importance. Some have a fascinating history. Still others are unbelievably beautiful. But some places here are special because of what we accomplish. The Alyn Children’s Hospital is just such a place.

And that’s why I am on vacation next week.

Shabbat Shalom from our blessed nation.

Some have told us that making Aliyah, or living in the “West Bank” is an act of courage. But no, while there are many positive ways to describe life here, I am reserving the word “courage.”

If you read the quotations from virtually any Palestinian leader, you will hear them use the word “courage” over and over again to describe valiant warriors who shoot rockets and bullets at children. But their use of the term is obscene.

In the packets of materials that Alyn gives out to the riders is a letter from a young boy named Raz. He writes:

“On May 10th 2002, my family and I were in a terrible road crash. My older sister, Eden, was killed. The doctors said that if I lived, I would be a ‘vegetable.’ When I regained consciousness, mummy told me what had happened and said ‘If you want to go on living, you will have to work very hard.’ The next day I moved a finger….” That’s courage.

Tzur was a ten year old boy talented in math, flute and gymnastics. One day he was out with his father and some friends when he was shot in the head by terrorists from a passing car. He has received all kinds of treatments at Alyn including “animal” therapy and even “humor” therapy with Alyn’s resident magician. On my tour, they told me that sometimes kids are so terrified after trauma, that they simply will not respond to any type of traditional stimulus. Alyn does everything possible to find some way of bringing these children back. Now Tzur is making great progress. In fact, the headline in the story about Tzur from Alyn was “Terror Victim Smiles Again.” That’s courage.

Alyn also gives you a picture of a child being treated at the hospital that all riders are asked to affix to their bikes. These pictures were put together by a girl named Sara. Sara was also severely injured in a car accident. She was brought to Alyn, unable to walk or speak. It was not easy for Sara to help put 485 pictures together, but she wanted to thank Alyn for helping her. That’s courage.

Remember how much of the world’s press blamed Israel for a “disproportionate” reaction to the Hizbollah rocket attacks? They implied that these rockets were really not that dangerous. Well, along with hundreds of thousands of Israelis who had to stay in bomb shelters for a month was a certain severely handicapped child. He needs daily therapy as well as special equipment. Needless to say, while bomb shelters generally provide protection, this boy was in great danger in the shelter. Alyn took him in where he stayed until the cease-fire.

You want courage? I give you the children of Alyn. Every day. And even more, it is the staff at Alyn that show courage. How can anyone face day after day, young kids who instead of being outside playing ball are trying to relearn how to hold a fork and knife by themselves? Every day, these miracle workers greet the children with big smiles and then sit down and try to figure out how they can help patch them back together so that these children regain some part of their childhood.

Now that, my friends, is courage.

If you would like to make a donation to Alyn, please go to the website http://www.alynride.org/alyn/onlineDonations.php.

Shabbat Shalom from our blessed nation.