A son came home today.

It’s October 18th today.  This day doesn’t seem special for any reason. For kids it’s simply a reminder that Halloween is less than two weeks away, for adults it’s a reminder that the leaves are turning brown and the sun will go on vacation for a short while.

But this day carries a much heavier weight on it’s shoulders.  On this day a son, who has been held in captivity for well over 5 years is returned to his parents, his country and most of all his people.

Gilad Shalit is a name known amongst all Jews across the world.  To us he’s a scrawny little Israeli soldier who was kidnapped by a terrorist orginazation HAMAS roughly 5 years ago. To the world he is simply a pawn in an ongoing chess game between Israel and it’s counterparts. 

I stayed up monday night with the hopes of catching a glimpse of this enigma I had read about so much.  I expected to see a young dashing Israeli man to run to his parents once he was released, you know, kind of like in the movies?

But first, after staying up well past 2 am, the TV stations focused on the criminals released to secure the release of an innocent young POW soldier.  As I watched this ” show” of murderers being praised and hailed as freedom fighters and heroes I thought to myself ” I feel so sorry for the Palestinian public, they can only celebrate death, life for them is well frankly not as important”.

Through the Microcosm of seeing the arab jubliance of killers being released I realized this is the exact reason that Israel is so special and holds the highest moral ground in the world.  Because even when a person kills another in Israeli society we do not give them the death penalty, we never stoop to their level.

after dozing off for a few minutes on my computer it was time, the helicopter was landing, the passenger door was to open and here comes our hero, our soldier, our son…

but wait, he’s not big, he’s not resilient, he looks thin, pale, and very weak…

Shalit had stood up and faced the prime minister of Israel, raised his arm ever so slowly and saluted Bibi.  The hairs on my neck stood.  To think that after all this time in captivity he still had the respect and honor to salute his prime minister was proof to me that although Gilad wasn’t 6’6 250 pounds; his Neshama ( spirit ) was a giant.

I won’t forget this day on October 18th, not because of the weather or anything else for that matter.

I won’t forget that on this one day, one young son, one young soldier, one young Jew proved to the world that a man is measured by his spirit and love.  Not by his body frame or ” hero” status.