Torah and the Trumpet Call of War: Be’haloscha and Israel’s Fight for Survival

By: Fern Sidman

As Israel stands at the precipice of a fateful confrontation with the Islamic Republic of Iran—its most implacable and ideologically driven enemy in generations—the ancient words of this week’s Torah portion, Be’haloscha, echo with uncanny urgency and eternal clarity. As reported and analyzed in countless rabbinic commentaries and in the stirring moral consciousness of the Jewish people, this parsha offers not only spiritual guidance but an unmistakable message about how a nation must respond when war is not sought, but brought into its land.

The Torah tells us: “When you come into war in your land against an oppressor who oppresses you, you shall sound teru’os with trumpets, and you shall be remembered before Hashem your G-d, and you shall be saved from your enemies.” (Bamidbar 10:9)

Unlike more familiar phrases that speak of going out to battle—where combat is initiated far from home—this pasuk speaks of a different kind of war: one that arrives uninvited, unprovoked, and unforgiving. It uses the phrase “ki tavo’u milchama”—“when you come into war”—because the battle has arrived at your doorstep, in your land, against an oppressor (tzar ha’tzorer), who seeks your obliteration, not negotiation.

This is not abstract theology. This is the present reality.

Israel did not choose war with Iran. The Jewish state has never desired war. But as Israel National News and others have documented in recent days, the Islamic Republic has long pursued not merely regional hegemony but the destruction of Israel itself. From its funding of terrorist proxies such as Hamas and Hezbollah, to its explicit nuclear ambitions, to the direct missile attacks now launched at Israeli cities, Iran is the embodiment of the tzar ha’tzorer, the oppressor who oppresses—a term so grave that the Torah repeats it for emphasis.

The IDF’s Operation Rising Lion is not an act of conquest. It is the nation’s desperate response to a looming existential threat. As Prime Minister Netanyahu has stated, Iran is “taking steps to weaponize enriched uranium.” The Natanz facility—one of the key targets of the recent Israeli airstrikes—was not enriching sugar; it was enriching uranium for a bomb that would rain radioactive death upon Tel Aviv and Jerusalem. If ever a war matched the Torah’s language of a struggle in your land against an oppressor, this is it.

The Torah’s response to such a war is not primarily tactical but spiritual. “You shall sound teru’os with trumpets… and you shall be remembered before Hashem your G-d.” The trumpet is not a mere horn—it is a cry from the soul of a people. It is prayer without words, anguish without form, a sound that pierces the heavens when even speech falls short.

But the Torah is precise: it does not say, “You will be saved.” It says, “you shall be remembered.” And only then, “and you shall be saved.” The implication, as many commentaries point out, is that a chasm has formed between Hashem and His people. In times of calamity, our first plea is not for victory, but for closeness—for Hashem to remember us, to turn His face toward us once more.

And yet, this remembrance is not passive. It is accompanied by teruah, a staccato of trembling blasts—an urgent call to action. It is a declaration that though we cry out for divine mercy, we are also prepared to move, to fight, to defend the land that was promised to us and sanctified by thousands of years of Jewish blood, prayer, and hope.

The blasts of the trumpet in parshas Be’haloscha mirror the shofarot of Rosh Hashanah. But here, they are sounded not in personal introspection but in national mobilization. The tekiah—a long, solid note—begins the call. It is a cry for divine connection. The teruah—a trembling, broken blast—represents our plea for intervention. And the closing tekiah—firm and unbroken—expresses the hope that once Hashem “remembers” us, His closeness will remain a permanent reality.

In this sense, Israel’s response to Iran is not only military. It is theological. By striking the head of the snake, Israel is proclaiming that it will not allow an enemy to desecrate Hashem’s name, to threaten the lives of His people, or to desecrate the land over which His eyes rest “from the beginning of the year to the end.”

Iran has vowed repeatedly to wipe Israel from the map. It funds terrorism, incites global antisemitism, and marches with banners proclaiming “Death to Israel.” But the Jewish response has never been nihilism. It has been remembrance. Just as Hashem is urged to remember us, so too do we remember our sacred mission—to be a light unto the nations, to protect life, and to defend the sanctity of the land entrusted to us.

In this war, Israel fights with weapons, yes—but also with faith. The sounds of tekiah and teruah still resonate. They call for unity, for resilience, and for the spiritual strength to withstand the tzar ha’tzorer. As the IDF’s operations unfold and the nation braces for Iranian retaliation, Israel’s moral compass remains oriented by the Torah.

For the battle may be modern, but its meaning is eternal.

We pray, as US Ambassador to Israel Mike Huckabee recently posted from the U.S. Embassy in Jerusalem, for the peace of Jerusalem. And we know that peace must be defended with more than words—it must be sounded with trumpets, shouted from the ramparts, and sealed with the resolve of a people who will never again be led to slaughter in silence.

“When you come into war in your land against an oppressor… you shall sound teru’os with trumpets, and you shall be remembered before Hashem your G-d, and you shall be saved from your enemies.” May it be so, speedily and in our days.