The Shabbos Angels of Today

When my children were growing up, we would often go home to my parents for Shabbos. Friday night, after the seudah, all the cousins would change into their pajamas and wait excitedly for ‘Abba Zayda and Bubba’. My father would sing the Shema. And then the children would say “Bubba, can you tell us a story from when you were a little girl?”

My mother would laugh and gather the children round. These were not tales of despair, instead, they were moments of courage and hope. One of their favorite stories was Shabbos in Bergen Belsen.

My mother would describe how each day they would receive a measly portion of bread, if you could call it that. Everyone was famished and faint. But my mother’s Tattie, (my Zayda), instead of eating his potion, would hide it away. Each day he’d whisper to the children “lichtig kinderlach, count the days. Five more days…five more days till Shabbos. Four more days…three more days…two more days…” Finally, it was Friday night. Shabbos had arrived.

Zayda began to hum Shalom Aleichem. “Imagine that we are home, sweet children. The table is set. The Shabbos candles are dancing; Mama baked her delicious challah.” Now Zayda would take out his secreted pieces of bread. The words of Shalom Aleichem filled the darkness and desperation in the air.

One week my uncle who was just a little boy called out “But Tatty, where are the malachim? I don’t see any malachim here!”

Zayda began to cry. “De bist d’malachim zeesa kinderlach – you, my sweet children, you are the malachim of Shabbos.”

And so, my mother and her siblings became malachim of Shabbos in the Gehennom of Bergen Belsen. It was a message that was held onto. To be the angel of Shabbos infused my mother with a sacred light, and the power to be greater than her fears.

Miraculously, grandchildren and great-grandchildren were born. A new generation growing up with the understanding that no matter what the world says we are the holy angels of Shabbos.

Today we have discovered that our nation has once again been blessed with the angels of Shabbos, the children of our nation, who bring light to even the darkest times.

The hostages who have returned bring tales of courage and strength. In the deep tunnels of Gaza, they found sparks of light within their souls.

Eli Sharabi: “All week we set aside a piece of our daily pita for Shabbat. On Friday night I recited Eishet Chayil, thinking of my wife and family. I made Kiddush over water and blessed HaMotzi on the pita.”

How can this be, I wonder? Under the earth of Gaza with no air to breathe, we have once again discovered that we are malachim of Shabbos? Just like my Zayda whispered in the choshech of Bergen Belsen! There is no force in the world that can take our sacred mission away. Not then. Not now. A new generation is born. We are a nation of miracles.

Segev Kalfon: On Shabbat we made Friday night Kiddush together and shook the tunnels with Shabbat melodies.”

Bar Kuperstien: There’s a song based on the words of Rabbi Nachman ‘Even in the darkest places, when it seems He is hiding, He is still there with you. I would sing this over and over to myself – it gave me strength.”

The darkness may feel thick. Vile antisemitism surrounds us. The world is upside down. They march for those who have violated our women, burned our babies, murdered and massacred, stole lives, destroyed families, as they call for the final solution of our land and nation.

They scream darkness as we bring light.

Take a moment and see through the madness. We are the malachim of Shabbos. The angels of Shabbos live. Am Yisrael Chai.