Dear Friends,
I confess, I don’t cry often. But this past week I did. A lot.
It was a whirlwind of a visit to Israel. We experienced the highs and the lows. The powerful faith and solidarity, and the heart-shredding pain and anguish. We saw the friendship, love, and heroism, and the wounds, tears, and missing limbs.
In the Re’im forest, at the site of the Nova Festival massacre, we felt the pain of our people. In Chevron, at the Cave of our Patriarchs, and in nearby Beit Lechem at the graveside of Rachel the Matriarch, we remembered why we’re here—the deep roots of the Jewish nation, and our unbreakable tie to the Holy Land.
Sunday was the most difficult day. When I tell you I don’t usually cry—I mean that this time I couldn’t hold it back. The floodgates opened. We stood together at the funeral of a young soldier who fell in battle just the night before. Ilai Zair was and elite commando soldier, only 20-years-old, young enough that he had his whole life ahead of him; old enough to have made a powerful impact on the lives of so many.
We listened to his mother, then brother, and younger sister each between choked tears talk about the gentle soul who they loved and lost, who always thought about his friends and family first, and knew when someone was in pain. He wasn’t one you’d expect to see in a war zone, but he was there because he had to defend his people, and anything he did, he did all the way.
After pouring her pain out before everyone in attendance, and with a quivering but determined voice, Ilai’s sister sang the words, “ani maamin,” “I believe in perfect faith that the redemption will come.”
Tears, heartbreak, and resilience.
This is what we witnessed in Israel, and this is what they asked us to bring back home; the message that while we stand together in pain, we also stand together in hope and faith in a strong future for the Jewish nation. That we will sing and dance and rebuild as we always have.
Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Fishel & Ettie Zaklos