The television images showed a chilling drama: reporters in Tel Aviv pulling gas masks over their faces and speaking with barely-supressed anxiety about two missile attacks on Israel`s largest city in two days.
Early Saturday, preliminary reports indicated that casualities and property damage by the Iraqi missiles in both attacks was relatively light.
There had been many more deadly attacks in Israel`s history than these.
Nevertheless, for many Chicago-area Jews the assaults were a special nightmare, one that recalled memories of the Holocaust and brought forth feelings of anger, sadness, fear-and helplessness.
And it also dramatized the emotional ties that still so strongly bind American Jews with Israel.
”It was like a brick hit you. I thought, `Here we go again. Another dictator using gas on the largest Jewish population in the world,` ” said Theodore Weiss of Wilmette, a survivor of three concentration camps and president of the Holocaust Education Foundation.
”It exposed a new level of vulnerability that for most of my life I haven`t felt as a Jew in this country,” said Jerry Kaye of Wilmette, director of youth activities for the Union of Hebrew Congregations.
For those with relatives in Israel the feeling of helplessness was especially intense.
Jody Hamisha was on Elmhurst Road, driving to her northwest suburban home Thursday night when she heard about the first missile attack from the radio. The second attack occurred at 11:20 p.m. Friday.
More than 6,000 miles away, in a suburb of Tel Aviv, Hamisha`s parents and brother were wearing gas masks.
”Physically, I`m here, but, emotionally, I`m over there,” Hamisha said later. ”My family is there, and my friends are there. I spent half my life in Israel. I`d be a lot calmer now if I was there with them.”
After the first missiles fell on Israel, Chicagoans jammed the phone lines trying to get in touch with loved ones. Eventually, after long waits, most did.
Hamisha, who moved to the Chicago area in June with her Israeli husband after living in Israel for 15 years, finally reached her relatives after 10 hours of dialing.
Her mother, Clair Gillette, said just after another air alert early Friday night, ”I know they must be very scared that we`re here, especially after seeing the television reporters in their masks.” The all-clear had sounded, but Gillett and her husband, Harold, remained in their sealed room, watching the television news with their gas masks at their sides.
”I can remember,” Gillett said, ”when things were the other way around. During the Six Day War, we were in the States, and (Hamisha and her husband) were living through war. I can tell you, it was more nerve-wracking watching from the States than it was living through it.”
Reuven Bogoff, a West Rogers Park resident who lived in Israel for six years, was heading home after picking up some school supplies for his daughter when he heard of the first attack on Israel. When he got home, he didn`t go in, but walked a half block to his temple to alert the 15 people gathered there for evening prayer.
”I was worried,” he said, ”about my friends and relatives. I had chills from it. When they tell you a missile hits near the Wolfson Hotel, and you know where that is, it give you the chills.”
One of Bogoff`s best friends in Israel was Mike Landau of Kalamazoo, Mich.
”Right now, I wonder if Mike`s OK. You can put names to the places, and that`s what makes it bad,” Bogoff said. ”You start crying inside. When you see the children in gas masks, it takes your breath away. It`s pretty intense.”
The attacks also fed the anxieties of Jewish children in the Chicago area, such as the seven sons of Rabbi Yossi Birnbaum, ages 16 months to 8 years.
”They have been to Israel. They know their grandparents. They know their cousins. They write letters to each other. They send pictures back and forth. They understand that a war`s going on right now,” said Birnbaum.
”They have a fearful mind right now. I see it on their faces. They are exposed to the horrors of war getting close to home.”
Birnbaum, who was born in Israel and lived there until emigrating to Chicago 10 years ago, said he tried unsuccessfully the previous week to find a way to take his family back there indefinitely.
Israel, he said, ”is not an easy place to live in, and it`s not pleasant to live under fear,” but he wanted to return as a show of solidarity with the Jewish nation.
Jews here are dealing with the changing realities of the Middle East in different ways. Some say they are stepping up security at their synagogues to discourage possible terrorist attacks.
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Even before the outbreak of war, Jewish leaders said, they were on guard for anti-Semitic violence. But the war has dramatically increased their fears that violent acts might be taken against American Jews.
”When you hear the threats from (Saddam) Hussein on television and you see how the airports and others are being cautious, you don`t need a direct threat before you do something about security,” said Rabbi Fred Schwartz of Temple Sholom on Chicago`s North Side.
At the Joliet Jewish Congregation, the congregants took security into their own hands, forming a committee to stand guard at the temple every night, said Rabbi Morris Hershman.
Other Jews prayed.
In Long Grove on Friday night, about 500 people-three times the normal attendance-gathered for Sabbath worship at Temple Chai, the largest reform congregation in the Northwest suburbs.
”Many of us are here tonight for many different reasons,” Rabbi Harold Caminker said in opening the service. ”One of those reasons is the welfare of many of our brothers and sisters in the State of Israel.”
The recent events in the Gulf War, ”touch us in an intense and personal way,” Caminker said. ”We need this time together.”
Part of the service was dedicated to Capt. Steven Feldman, a U.S. Air Force pilot stationed in Saudi Arabia.
At the end of the service, congregants sang ”The Star-Spangled Banner,” followed by ”Hatikvah,” the Israeli national anthem.
Louise Stein of Flossmoor, who was attending services at Temple B`nai Yehuda in Homewood, expressed concern for Soviet Jews now arriving in Israel. ”The Soviets are coming from a terrible situation hoping for a better life and they walk into this,” she said.
During his sermon Rabbi Leo Wolkow, referring to Kristallnacht, said
”January 17, 1991, 50 plus years later, will also be recalled as a dastardly night.”
”We came because we were very distraught and found it hard to stay at home,” said Phyllis Tinsley of Chicago`s Near North Side, a worshiper at Temple Anshe Emet on Friday night. ”It`s a double responsibility being an American and a Jew.”
At the Jewish Reconstructionist Congregation in Evanston, Rabbi Arnold Rachlis opened the pulpit to his congregation after delivering a personal and reflective sermon about Jewish rememberances of war.
”There`s something twisted about hearing of gas,” Rachlis said of worries that Hussein`s missiles may contain poisonous gas. ”The gas chambers of Germany, and the gas of today. There is something vile and obscene, and twisted and sick,” he said of parallels to Nazi Germany.
”Most Jews are holding their breaths,” Rachlis said. ”It`s a minute to minute thing.”