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Michael Levin: An Israeli Hero for Our time
by Yocheved Miriam Russo
Friends of Michael Levin, 21, mourn his death and remember his inspiring life..

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Michael Levin was always smiling.

"You never saw Michael without a smile," said Rachel Tova Rott, a member of Michael's circle of Jerusalem friends. "We were all so close. Most of us are here in Israel alone, we live in Nachloat, and we bonded, became family for each other. When this whole mess in Lebanon began, I worried about Michael because he was on active duty in the IDF. Then someone said he'd gone to visit his family in Pennsylvania, and I was so relieved -- at least I didn't have to worry about him. Next thing we knew, he'd cut his vacation short and rejoined his unit. It was something he had to do, he said. 'If I didn't come back to fight with my unit, I wouldn't have any life anyway.'"

On Tuesday, August 1, the day before Tisha B'Av, First Sgt. Michael Levin, 21, died a hero's death. His unit, Battalion 101, had been clearing a building in Aita al-Shaab, a southern Lebanese town, when Hezbollah scored a direct hit with an anti-tank missile. The human toll was horrific - 11 wounded and three killed. Michael's comrade Shanir Turjeman told Ynet what happened: "I heard on the two-way radio that Michael was wounded, and I remembered the night before, when we'd been talking about girlfriends, family, and life," Turjeman said. "I'd lost eye contact with him during the heavy sniper fire and the antitank attack, and then during the evacuation I spotted him lying there, badly injured."

Another comrade, Shlomi Singer -- another Anglo immigrant -- carried his dying friend most of the way back into Israel before they were found and picked up by rescue vehicles, but it was too late. "It was very difficult," Singer said. "We were under heavy fire, and all around us our friends were wounded."

On Tisha B'Av, Levin was laid to rest in Mount Hertzl Cemetery. His family - mother, father, sister Alisa and his twin sister Dara -- flew in from Pennsylvania. They were joined by hundreds of people from all over Israel who came to pay tribute to the young hero.

"There's a huge hole in our group," said Yael Ariel, another friend. "We're already so lonesome for him -- he's the one we need right now. If Michael were here, he'd have some funny little comment, some little quip. He'd say something to bring us out of it, to relieve the pressure."

To speak of Michael's courage and strength of character seems almost superfluous. At age 18, he deliberately chose the hard, dirty, dangerous work of the IDF by coming to Israel to enlist in the IDF as a 'lone soldier'. Officially, 'lone soldiers' serve in the MAHAL unit, a Hebrew acronym for "overseas volunteers". Native Israeli's give the acronym a different twist: they say the letters stand for "Meshuga'im M'Hutz L'Aretz" -- the 'crazy guys from outside Israel' who voluntarily enlist.

Levin's 'crazy' passion for Israel was ignited during his years at Camp Ramah. While many campers became enthusiastic Zionists, Michael was unique - he never let go of passion for Israel. His determination to not only live here, but to serve in the IDF, never wavered. Eytan Peer was Michael's Shaliach, the Israeli immigration agent, who processed Michael's application for aliyah. "Michael just showed up at my office in New York unannounced," Peer said. "He'd charmed his way in. In my entire career, I've only seen one other person so determined."

Upon arrival in Israel, Michael wasn't about to tolerate the built-in delay that allows most new immigrants several months to settle in and adjust to the Israeli way of life before starting IDF training. Michael fought for -- and received -- special permission to join the IDF almost right away. Once in, he fought again to get into the elite Paratroopers Brigade, becoming one of the few former Americans ever to do so. He had to fight against another disadvantage: he was so slightly built, so thin, that the first time he parachuted, he drifted off course. After that, they attached weights to his parachute.

Michael was an overachiever in everything he did. Not only was he an A+ student during his 2001 term at the Alexander Muss High School in Israel, but everyone who knew him came away with a greater love for Israel themselves. "Michael always ran ahead of everyone else," Yael Ariel recalled. "No matter what it was, he volunteered to do it. When he come back to rejoin his unit, they tried to send him to Hevron, but again he fought -- he wanted to serve in Lebanon.

Michael was more than brave. Courage was part of his character.

"Was that brave?" Ariel asked. "That word doesn't really fit Michael - he was more than brave. Michael wasn't a person who did brave things. Instead, courage was part of his character. Like his coming alone to Israel to enlist in the IDF - that wasn't 'brave', so much as it was a reflection of who he was."

"In anything he did, we worked harder than anyone else," Rachel Tova Rott added. "When he was training, he weighed about 125 pounds, but part of the regimen was to run carrying a 120-pound pack. The pack weighted almost as much as he did, but he did it anyway."

Many of Michael's friends and family believe he had some premonition of his fate. "It upset me at the time," Rott says. "He'd say things like, 'if I come back', and 'if I get out of this'. I begged him to stop, not say that, but it wasn't as though he was depressed -- exactly the opposite. It was as though he knew what his job was, what he was supposed to do in this world. And -- just as he did with everything else -- he ran ahead to do it with enthusiasm, happy to be able to serve Israel. He was just the most remarkably upbeat, positive, kind and caring person I've ever met."

"Mike was a very spiritual guy," said Yitzhak Meir, another Jerusalem friend. "Shabbat will never be the same without him. Michael loved to sing zemirot, Shabbat songs. No matter how many we sang, he always wanted to sing one more. One time there was someone at the Shabbat table that wasn't really getting into it, and Mike was encouraging him, 'You gotta sing!' he said. 'You can't feel Shabbat unless you sing!' Then he'd start another song."

"Michael had a unique way of relating to everyone as their best friend," Meir said. "No matter who he was talking to, he made them feel special. In everything he did, he gave his all, whether it was listening to a friend, cheering at a football game, singing on Shabbat, or serving in the IDF."

There are no doubt hundreds of people all over the world who thought of Michael as his or her best friend. "I always knew that if there was ever a time when I needed help, for anything, I could call Michael and he'd come," Yael Ariel said. "If he was anywhere in the area, not on a mission, he'd be there, right away. It would never occur to him that it was too late, that it was a long way, or that he was exhausted himself. If someone needed him, he was there.

"The one thing that comforts me now is that Michael knew we loved him," Ariel said. "Sometimes when people pass away, you feel you should have told them more how much they meant to you, how much you loved them. But with Michael, he knew. He knew how much we all loved him, trusted him and appreciated him. That helps -- to know that he died understanding how much he meant to all of us."

Our Sages tell us that when a righteous person leaves this world, his presence can be felt more strongly in all the worlds than it was during his lifetime. Freed from his physical body, his influence will be even greater.

Michael himself may have understood that. About a month ago, he and a friend from a kibbutz were talking, lamenting the many losses Israel has suffered.. 'Why is it that all the good ones, the stong ones, die first?' the friend asked. Michael thought a moment, then said, "Maybe the real war is up there, and G-d needs them there."

Rest in peace, Michael Levin. You fought the good fight, you gave your best, every time. The True Judge, Blessed be He, has called you home to continue your work from another plane. May all of us who knew you, and all who met you only through your story, be blessed by your courage, your love of life, and your passion for Israel and the Jewish people. We love you, Michael. We'll never forget your smile, and with your help, we'll continue working to accomplish all the things you wanted for your beloved homeland.


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(19) Anonymous, 10/8/2006
Somebody Else's Job? MUST READ By Jonathan S. Tobin
Michael Levin’s sacrifice is a stark contrast to contemporary American Jewish culture

This week, a family in suburban Bucks County, Pennsylvania is facing the ultimate tragedy. The Levins have lost their son, Michael, a 22-year-old graduate of a public high school in this suburb of Philadelphia, who was killed in Lebanon on Aug. 1 while serving with the Israel Defense Force.

The Levins are not alone in their grief. Dozens of Israeli families have also been faced with the same horrifying task of burying children cut down long before their time. The casualties from the fighting in Lebanon with Hezbollah terrorists have been heavy and may grow in the weeks to come.

Each such death — as well as the many casualties from the Hezbollah rocket attacks — are heartrending. So many precious lives have been lost that each individual story of the soldiers who have been fighting to preserve the life of the Jewish state and the Israeli civilians murdered by Hezbollah are lost amid the flood of wartime grief.

But not so Michael Levin.

Though Levin was just one of many Israeli soldiers who were prepared to risk their lives, his particular sacrifice is bound to stand out. That’s because unlike the many Israeli kids who took the normal route of going straight from high school into the army, Levin’s path was anything but typical for an American teenager.

Unlike in Israel, the notion of serving in the military — any military — is simply unimaginable for many of us. Indeed, for many, if not most American Jews the mere idea of even visiting Israel, be it in times of trouble like now or even when things are a bit more peaceful, is more than they can manage.

Why is this so?

The answer isn’t hard to figure out. Ours is a population raised in peace and security. It’s been over 30 years since any American was conscripted to serve in the military. And given the number of exemptions and evasions available even during the Vietnam War draft, the idea of universal military service is something that we really haven’t known here since World War II, a conflict that ended 61 years ago this month.

But the distance between us and that culture of national service which led so many to volunteer or to at least serve willingly when called is deeper than the mere passage of time. Contemporary American culture values personal autonomy and freedom above all else.

Baby boomers were reared on the notion that marching to Henry David Thoreau’s “different drummer” was the ideal, not service to the nation. Indeed, if there is any concept that is truly alien to our culture today, it is the very notion of seeing any cause as being larger than our own personal interests.

A nation that prizes individual freedom and the right to live pretty much as we like is one that must be considered fundamentally healthy in many respects. But deep down we understand that there is also something that has been lost as traditional notions of patriotism and the value of sacrificing for our country have been shoved aside.

That’s part of the reason so much has been made about the legacy of “the greatest generation,” as broadcaster Tom Brokaw put it. The men and women who survived the Great Depression and then helped defeat Germany and Japan — our parents and grandparents — faced the challenges that were forced upon them and persevered.

To baby boomers and their children, the idea of putting academic or business careers on hold and being thrust into a life and death conflict against the menace of Nazism is the stuff you watch on the History Channel or view in fading pictures in old family photo albums. It is not the life or the world we know even if the contemporary challenge from Islamism is no less grave.

And given the alienation from the military itself that was engendered in so many Americans by the debacle in Vietnam, participation in the armed services has become rare.

And it is in this context that Levin’s decision not only to go to Israel to live a fully Jewish life but to volunteer for a combat unit — Israel’s elite paratroopers — stands out so starkly.

Though by all accounts, he was a modest young man who eschewed the status of hero, his actions spoke to an acceptance of ideas that have had little resonance for his contemporaries.

For him, it was not enough to care about the Jewish people and to recognize that being Jewish was more than an after-school option. The threats Israel faces from Islamists like those of Hamas and Hezbollah wasn’t merely something for other people to face. Like so many Israelis, he was prepared to do his share.

That took not only courage, which he appears to have had in abundance, but the imagination to see beyond the spirit of his times and to understand that there are great causes, such as Zionism, that are bigger than our own personal advancement.

And so even as we mourn with the Levins, it is incumbent on the rest of us to think about Michael and what lessons we can draw from his life and death.

Many of us here love Israel and worry about the threats it faces, especially the ones from the Iranian sponsors of the Hezbollah terrorists who openly boast of their desire to eradicate Israel and to massacre its people in a nuclear holocaust. Yet defending Israel — or even showing solidarity by visiting it — is, many of us rationalize, somebody else’s job.

But Michael Levin felt it wasn’t somebody else’s job. Other Americans could change the television channel and pretend that the attacks on Israeli cities have nothing to do with us. He couldn’t.

We know in our hearts that for Israel to live, and for freedom to survive anywhere on this planet, some will have to choose, as Michael Levin did, to fight. As a consequence some parents will wind up burying their kids as the Levins did.

That is a thought that is too bitter for many of us to contemplate. Yet Levin’s sacrifice can, at the very least, remind us that the fate of Israel is something to which we cannot be mere spectators. American Jews may not all become Israeli paratroopers but they can start taking the danger Israel faces personally. They can speak out on Israel’s behalf, visit it and give as generously as they can to causes that are caring for the many Israelis displaced by the war, as well as for those wounded and maimed by the enemy.

Perhaps that is, in the end, what heroes really do. Their example points us in the direction of a higher duty than what we ordinarily think about.

The life and death of Michael Levin should remind us that the deeds of a new “greatest generation” are still well within our grasp.

May his memory be for a blessing.

(18) Anonymous, 6/8/2008
my hero
i never knew him but when i heard his story, i felt a connection to him.
he will always be my hero and an inspiration to me. as long as we have jews like him, we will always stand strong and stand as one.
he will always be in our hearts...

(17) JoshuaMann, 5/9/2006
Thank you
Michael-

Thank you. You are my inspiration and my hero.

As long as we have loving, kind and courageous Jewish soldiers, like Michael, we will never lose!

Am Yisrael Chai!!!!

Michael-

you will truly be missed.

(16) augustine e johnson, 14/8/2006
hero
he was a hero of israel





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