If anyone needs a jolt of caffeine, as well as a liberal dose of bonhomie – assuming one is within hailing distance of Jerusalem – what better place to be than Power Coffeeworks? Especially during these, shall we say, troubling times. When I arrived last week, Brandon was glowing with a sense of accomplishment as things seemed to be going his way. The municipality FINALLY, after a year and a half of half-hearted effort, finished the construction in front of the alleyway where he’s located. My concern was that he wouldn’t be able to keep roasting his beans at his borrowed roastery in the Gush, effectively putting him out of business, but he has found a way to make it work. (We don’t need to go into details; mum’s the word.) Also, it seems that he will, after all, be able to get the business loan he needs to build his own roasting facility near where they live. But the first thing out of his mouth was, I’ve been accepted into miluim.

Brandon arrived in The Land way too old to be drafted into the IDF, but with his background in Security, they could use his skill and knowledge. NO, he won’t be heading down to the southern border, but there’s lots to do protecting sensitive facilities in and around Efrat.

When I arrived this Thurs., there was Brandon, weary from his shift guarding something important, but on the job. There wasn’t much foot traffic to keep the store busy, and he had two young people taking care of anyone who did show up. So we had time to sit and chat. Let me share with you his analysis of the debacle on Oct.7, which I think makes a lot of sense. It’s obvious, he said, that the Hamas plan was well thought out, planned long in advance, which was to take over a large swath of southern Israel and hold it as long as they could. What stopped them was their savagery, their unbridled lust for Jewish blood. Imagine if the terrorists had crossed the border, simply evacuated the communities along the way, and just kept going. They could easily have gone as far as Petach Tikvah with little opposition; they would have been seen as heroes, ‘liberators’ of Arab land, daring us to take back the land. Instead they wreaked havoc, spending hours trying to break into safe rooms with maybe a dozen Jews hiding inside, but not accomplishing their mission. That’s probably not the whole story, but it’s worth considering…

We shared some thoughts about the psychic damage throughout the nation, and what lies ahead. I decided to share with him a conversation that I got sucked into at our shul, as a cautionary tale about getting carried away with oneself. Because of a mix-up in the scheduling, both I and another fellow showed up fifteen minutes early for a minyan – something that is unlikely to happen again. We chatted for a few minutes, and then the other guy asked me what I thought about ‘the situation.’ I started to reply, but before I could utter a coherent sentence, he asked me, Do you think you’re smarter than God? I could see the eyes rolling on Brandon’s face when I related this to him, as he also considered the absolute pointlessness of such a question. Then, the other fellow asked, Do you think the (Israeli) government is smarter than God?

Now that we have conclusively established that God is smarter than anybody else who ever lived, what next?, I wondered. My interlocutor raced to his shtender and whipped out an Artscroll Humash. He started rifling through the pages, until he came to the passage in Parshat Masei: “But if you do not drive out the inhabitants of the Land before you,” etc., etc.

Brandon’s response was immediate: That never happened; we never conquered all the Land, which is exactly what I had said my interlocutor. The other point, which I refrained from mentioning at the time, is that today’s Arabs, whatever you want to say about them, are not idol-worshippers, so there’s no Biblical mandate to expel them – as if we could.

One skill that I have developed over the years is the ability to extract myself from a useless conversation. We’ll have to disagree; you’re obviously a Kahanist, and I’m not. To which he responded, No I’m not (a Kahanist). You all know about something walking like a duck, but rather than contest the point, I graciously conceded. This guy, I told Brandon, is an Oleh hadash, with an emphasis on the hadash part, but he has all the answers before he even knows his way to the Knesset.

There were other matters to consider. Despite my fervent plea, Brandon had been unable to fax me an Iced Latte with oat milk, which is one of the reasons I had arrived in person to his place of business. Now the rule of thumb I stress to whichever impressionable barista is behind the counter is that if I appear in a short-sleeved shirt, I want a cold coffee; otherwise, a hot beverage. There I was with my elbows uncovered, although the weather had turned slightly chilly. It was not an existential crisis – all things considered – but it was a dilemma: should I countermand my long-standing instructions and make things confusing for the staff? After a minute or two of indecision, I threw caution to the wind, choosing to opt for a latte piping hot, the way it emerges from the espresso machine, and if that causes a problem, so be it.

There was one more matter to consider. A few days before, Stephanie (the other Treger) had posted on Facebook that they were arranging to send coffee to the troops throughout the country. As far as I am concerned, sharing is caring; if I get to drink the finest coffee known to mankind, then that privilege should be made available to the young people preparing to risk their lives. No one, I reasoned, could keep me from this mitzvah. This mission was not going to be canceled at the last minute for reasons of security. No one was ahead of me on line buying all of Brandon’s supply, getting all the mitzvah points for himself. Nobody could stop me from completing my mission.

Well, maybe slow me down. While Brandon was off roasting and miluim-ing, Stephanie and Meira, their super-nice staff person, had devised and organized this activity. Brandon wasn’t sure about the logistics, and the two youngsters behind the counter had even less of an idea. (Hello, right hand, this is your counterpart on the other side. It seems that the network has been down the last few days, so you didn’t get the emails I sent you. When you do get them, take a minute and read them; they’re kind of important.) What I’m going to do, I said, is have you charge 123NIS on my credit card for a kilo of coffee for the troops. You guys figure it out. I’ve done my part.

It shouldn’t be so difficult to perform a mitzvah, but a lot of things shouldn’t be so hard. Natania was telling me of her efforts to coordinate Shabbat hospitality for people stuck in hotels. She went on Googledocs and created two lists in two languages: one for people who could host others, and the second for people who needed a place to go. That seems easy enough, but never underestimate people’s ability to make the simple complicated. All that has to happen is for everyone to sign up on the wrong sheet, so no one can figure out who’s who. As our daughter said in exasperation, there’s a reason she works with mice.

Undeterred by this SNAFU, she sent Barbara a notice from Yad Sara. They are looking for volunteers to come to the HQ to fix things with and without tools, something that is right up my wife’s alley. Natania had only one caveat: better leave daddy home. Some of use a screwdriver; others use a keyboard. Let’s all do what we can.