When my cousin’s daughter asked me to officiate her wedding in Israel the week after Sukkos, how could I say no? Her mother, my beloved first cousin, passed away at a young age from cancer. She loved Israel and at several points in her too-short life wanted to live there but never had the chance to realize that dream. Her daughter, passionate about Torah, the Jewish people, and Eretz Yisroel, moved to Israel shortly after getting up from shiva. She enlisted, rose to be an officer in the IDF, and proudly wore her olive green IDF skirt throughout. She met her husband, an amazing young man who, like her and like Avraham Avinu before them, got up, left his family to answer the call of Lech Lecha, and went to settle in Hashem’s land. After learning in Yeshiva he too served in the IDF. These two beautiful souls finding each other and committing to building the Jewish people in the Jewish homeland was truly a special occasion not to be missed.
And now, at a magnificent chuppa with the hills of Yerushalayim as the backdrop, I had the tremendous honor and privilege to marry them. But there was something I needed to do first.
In Koheles (7:2), Shlomo HaMelech, the wisest of all men, taught, טוֹב לָלֶכֶת אֶל בֵּית אֵבֶל מִלֶּכֶת אֶל בֵּית מִשְׁתֶּה בַּאֲשֶׁר הוּא סוֹף כָּל הָאָדָם וְהַחַי יִתֵּן אֶל לִבּוֹ, “It is better to go to a house of mourning than to a house of celebration; for that is the end of every man, and a living one should take it to heart.”
As Israel’s longest war in its history continues to rage on across multiple fronts, we tragically, regularly continue to see and hear the most dreaded words: “Released for publication.” Heroic, seemingly ordinary but truly extraordinary soldiers continue to make the ultimate sacrifice, their families paying the ultimate price to protect, defend and fight for the Jewish people. Indeed, as our rabbis taught two thousand years ago (Berachos 5a), Eretz Yisroel nikneis b’yesurin, the land of Israel is acquired and held with sacrifice and struggle.
I paid a shiva call to the family of Rav Avi Goldberg Hy”d. A tent was set up to accommodate the countless visitors who came from all over: friends, family, political leaders, and “strangers” like me who came to comfort, share in the pain and pay tribute to this incredibly special man. It was heartbreaking to see his children clutch framed pictures of him. It was moving to hear his wife Rachel talk about him and offer a heartfelt plea for all segments of Am Yisroel to share in the burden of this war. R’ Avi loved and excelled at music, using it to arouse the souls of many, and so the family requested music be part of the shiva. Accompanied by a guitar and a violin, the many packed in the tent joined in a slow, stirring niggun. At that moment, eyes closed and swaying in unison, all those gathered were singing the song of the Jewish people, the song of pain and of joy, a song of eternity.
That day, I was scheduled to meet with R’ Avi’s brother Eliezer about another matter. We indeed met, but instead of at a coffee shop or in an office, it was with him sitting in a low chair and my desperately trying to find words that would be meaningful. He shared about his brother’s special character and impact and I communicated that I represented not only myself, my family and our community, but I was there on behalf of all Am Yisrael around the world sharing in their pain and expressing our boundless gratitude.
I shared the same message at the second shiva call, to the family of Sammy Harari Hy”d. Sammy came to yeshiva for his gap year and decided to stay and serve in the IDF and build his life in Israel. His dedication to our people and to our country was unwavering. He was 35 years old and lived in Tzefat with his wife, Anna, and their three children.
“It is better to go to a house of mourning than to a house of celebration.” Commentators explain that Shlomo HaMelech encouraged going to a shiva home over a simcha because a simcha is prospective. We share our hope, dreams and ambitions for the future of this new couple, this Bar Mitzvah boy or Bat Mitzvah girl, this new baby. A shiva home is retrospective, reflective of the legacy, influence and impact the person made. Each of these precious soldiers, our kedoshim who are now sitting next to the Kisei HaKavod, directly adjacent to Hashem’s throne, leave the highest legacy of having been moseir nefesh for the Jewish people.
On this short trip, I also visited Hadassah Hospital to spend time with injured soldiers. Unlike previous trips in which the injured were young soldiers in the middle of their mandatory service, each of those I visited this time was a reservist, these were people who had left their family multiple times to fight, often on different fronts.
In one room were three men who had been injured less than a week before in Lebanon. Hezbollah fighters saw them coming and released gas in the house they were entering. In many countries, gas companies add a chemical with a distinctive smell to alert people to a gas leak but natural gas has no odor and so these soldiers had no idea they were entering a home filled with gas. Protocol calls for opening fire when entering an area with terrorists. When these soldiers entered the home and the first one opened fire, it ignited the gas, causing an explosion. The terrorists were positioned nearby and opened fire after the explosion. One of the soldier’s legs was literally on fire while he continued to shoot back and fight the terrorists.
Hanging next to his hospital bed are the remnants of the uniform, a testament to the miracle of his being alive. These soldiers had bandages on their legs, fingers and one had burns on his face. One of them has four children, the youngest two months old, born during his service. Another got married in between serving his reserve duties. They all spoke with faith, determination, gratitude, positivity and a message to Jews everywhere that it is time to come home and be part of this destiny.
In another room was a soldier who was injured on Yom Kippur night in Lebanon. His father shared that he was so badly compromised, losing so much blood, that at one point they felt he wouldn’t survive and no more resources or time should be spent on him. Nevertheless, they continued and there he was recovering and improving, eager to return home to his wife and children. The soldier mentioned that in his life he had donated a lot of blood, never knowing that he was actually making a deposit for one day needing to take a withdrawal to save his life. As hashgacha had it, his uncle is a friend of mine, someone I went to Yeshiva with.
In a third room was a soldier injured on the border with Syria. He was the quietist, and seemed to be struggling the most physically and emotionally, but after spending a few minutes, showering him with love, as we were leaving his room, he perked up to call to us and say, “Am Yisrael Chai.”
On this trip, I spent time with my heroic friend who fought in Gaza, saw and experienced horrific things, and has been suffering with diagnosed PTSD. Despite support, medication, and therapy, he continues to have panic attacks, and it isn’t unusual for him to wake up in the middle of the night from a nightmare, drenched in sweat and with a racing heart.
He shared with me that he had recently been in the park with his children when they saw a young boy on the playground crying. He approached the boy asking what is wrong, is he hurt. The boy responded, no I am angry and there is nothing you can do about it. He asked the boy what happened and the young boy explained that his father is back in milu’im, reserve duty, and his uncle picked him up from school instead of his father and he is very upset about it. My friend said, are you hungry, let’s go buy a treat and the boy said, no I am not eating. He asked, why not and the boy said, I don’t want to eat until my father comes home and we can eat together. After spending some time showing some love and support, the boy calmed down and went home to get something to eat. There are literally thousands of children in Israel like this young boy, some expressing their feelings, many not, and we cannot lose sight of how many families continue to feel the impact of this war on a daily basis.
This past year I have been fortunate to have gone to Israel for numerous missions, visiting army bases, hospitals, hostage families, displaced families, and doing all kinds of volunteering. As Yom Tov here ended and I prepared for this trip, I thought, perhaps naively, that I was going for a wedding and to see my family. I thought that the chamals, cheder milchamah, the wartime volunteer command centers were closed, the volunteer opportunities had grinded to a halt, but I was terribly wrong. There is still so much to do, so much love to show and share, so much support, financial, emotional to provide, so many people to spend time with.
The director of Hadassah hospital told me that visits have slowed down but there are still so many soldiers recovering and in rehab who cherish the chance to tell their story, to receive some love and to connect with Jews, particularly from outside of Israel.
It has now been more than a year. Fatigue may have set in for many, but it can’t for our soldiers. They are still fighting on multiple fronts, their families continue to have to experience and navigate their absence while they serve. For the new orphans and widows there is nothing old about this war.
They are doing their part. We must continue to do ours. A member of our community visited an army rest area outside Gaza over Sukkos. One of the tables still holds a letter a child wrote that we delivered back in March.
Continue to write letters to soldiers. Continue to learn and daven for those serving and all those injured physically and emotionally. When planning winter vacation or your next trip, consider going to Israel to visit hospitals, those still displaced from the north, or army bases.
We daven and long for the day we go to Israel only to attend simchas and happy occasions.
{Reposted from the Rabbi’s site}
