Days turn into weeks and the ominous news continues. Our precious sons are in harm’s way and we hear the horrific news that some of them will never come home. One boy was about to get married; another’s wife just had a baby; and still another left behind a wife who was in her ninth month. I realize you are all aware of this. I am not telling you anything new but still I have a compulsion to share and speak and write.
I listen to the news day and night. People have suggested that I stop, that it’s too depressing. But even if I were to shut out the media, in my mind I would still see and hear bereaved parents, and young wives who in the blink of an eye have become widows, and little orphans who are crying for their daddies.
Perhaps one of the reasons for this is that I am a survivor. I saw this all before and everything is coming back to me from those days in Europe before Hitler occupied Hungary. My revered father, HaRav HaGaon Avraham HaLevi Jungreis, zt”l, was the chief Orthodox rabbi of our city Szeged, the second largest city in Hungary (not to be confused with Sziget).
Our home became a gathering place not only for Jews from our city but for community leaders from the provinces. The discussions went on late into the night. “What to do?” everyone asked. And the answer to that question, the conclusion to all such discussions, was always the same: “Surely the civilized world will never countenance such beastly evil. People will protest and Germany will find itself a pariah among the family of nations.”
I have often thought about those conversations. Why were we so blind to our horrific reality? Simply put, there was nothing much we could do. We had no weapons. We had no friends. There was no place to run. No place to hide. Hitler was determined to annihilate every Jew and he kept meticulous records of the Jewish populations in the countries he conquered.
Some years ago I was invited to speak at Fort Hood to over 40,000 U.S. military personnel. After one of my presentations some officers asked if they could invite their families to listen to me. They wanted their wives and children to know about the Holocaust. When I concluded my address, an adorable little girl stood up.
“Rebbetzin, Ma’am,” she said in her innocent sweet voice, “why didn’t you call the police?”
For a moment I was astounded by the question. What an American question! And then I explained to the little girl that there were no police we could call. The police were equally as cruel as the Nazis. Jewish blood was cheap and could be shed with impunity. The question from the little girl continues to echo in the wind.
When the sinister darkness of the Holocaust had finally lifted, I heard the cry “never again” – “never again will we allow such satanic evil to take place. Never again.” Those words have become a clarion call. Tourists visit the sites where the death camps operated and nations build Holocaust museums to ensure that people learn from the past.
Under such circumstances, who could be a Holocaust denier? It’s there for all to see. And yet, incredibly, the Holocaust denial movement is alive and well.
But the problem extends well beyond out-and-out Holocaust deniers. Let a Jew raise his hand to defend himself and suddenly otherwise placid people become seething cauldrons of Jew hatred.
It has been my privilege to speak throughout the world. Recently I’ve been receiving calls from many friends in the countries I’ve visited. Be it Paris, London, Johannesburg, or any of a couple dozen other locations, anti-Semitic demonstrations are taking place. Not that we have to cross the ocean to hear this message –it’s happening right here in our own back yard.
How can it be that those who now protest Israel’s defensive actions remained silent while thousands of missiles were being launched at Israeli cities and villages? My great-grandchildren in Israel mimic the warning sirens. It’s terrifying. I was there in Sderot. I saw the homes and buildings that were damaged and the terrible scars left on the hearts of the young and the elderly in particular.
Finally Israel decided it wouldn’t be terrorized like this any longer. Our soldiers went forth to destroy the missiles, the launching pads, and the tunnels where the killers were hiding with their weapons and from where they crossed into Israel to murder our people. And then suddenly the nations of world found their voices.
Those of us who refuse to learn from our past can’t understand it. It’s not because we’re so naïve but rather because most Jews are liberals who want to believe in a higher civilization –one that shuns cruelty and barbaric savagery.
So what is the solution? My recent columns have centered on the passage in our Torah that tells us we are “a nation destined to dwell alone…and not considered among the nations of the world.” But it’s in that very loneliness that we find our strength. It’s in that very loneliness that we turn to our G-d, for He is the only One who can help us – and the sooner we realize that the faster and the mightier our salvation will be.
My granddaughter shared with me a letter she found online from an Israeli soldier in Gaza to his Jewish brethren. It speaks to so much of what ails us a people. Let us take it to heart and act upon it. The following are excerpts from that letter:
Today our hearts are pounding in fear. Who of us will die? And who will return safely?…. We are fighting so you and all our people can live peacefully….. We are your protection. Will you be ours?
We are going on our dangerous mission knowing some of us will not come back…. We are going with dedication and devotion. We are asking you to be our protection with your prayers. Protect us by going above and beyond yourselves in Torah and mitzvot….
Pray for us. Pray that you won’t see another mother burying her son. Pray that you won’t see our wives as widows raising our children in tears. Pray that our children will grow up knowing who their fathers are. Pray that we will eliminate the terrorists who aim to destroy us, and that we will not injure innocent women and children.
Please, we are begging you, as you are reading this…. [s]ay a chapter of Tehillim…. Take upon yourselves another good deed. And please pass this on. I’m certain that your prayer will make a difference.
Remember, we are in it together. We are on the front lines carrying the weapons and you are fighting along with us in your prayers. Each word of your prayer gives us strength, protection and success.
Powerful words indeed. I will have more to say on this subject in my next column.
