Broken Hearts

 

As the final preparations to escort Shiri, Ariel, and Kfir Bibas, hy’d, to their eternal rest began, I sat in the Kotel Tunnels sobbing. As if their murders weren’t enough to make me weep, I remembered my Kotel visit fourteen years ago. Then I also cried my heart out thinking about my grandson's nursery school buddy, Elad Fogel. He, his parents, brother, and infant sister, hy’d, were stabbed to death by Arab terrorists while he was sleeping in his bed. The whole country grieved and my three-year-old grandson had to deal with death and hate. There were nightmares and questions, but time moves on, and so did he.

A bereaved father once told his wife that HaShem will comfort us if we let Him. There’s the trick. We need to let Him.  

My children have lost so many of their friends- sickness, war, car accidents, and terror. With each of their losses, another piece of my heart breaks. It's amazing there's any of it left. But there is, and I'm able to see the many miracles HaShem makes for us.

Please, HaShem, don't stop with the miracles. Bring my children’s friend, Avinatan, and all of the hostages home safe and whole. Please!!!

Elad shortly before he was murdered. 

Grief

 Twenty-four years ago, five-month-old Yehuda Shoham was critically injured when the car he was travelling in was attacked by a heavy stone thrown by an Arab terrorist. We - the whole nation- prayed morning, afternoon, evening, and in-between for a miracle to save his life. After eight days Yehuda returned his soul to his Maker and our hearts were broken. What happened to all those prayers? At Yehuda’s shiva his parents insisted they had not been wasted. They told us, the ones trying to comfort them, that all the others in the pediatric ICU where Yehuda had been, were released from the hospital, able to have a healthy life. Their conviction that the prayers said for Yehuda helped those babies and children comforted us. I have not forgotten their words.

Now, after 500 days of praying for Kfir ben Shiri, Ariel ben Shiri, and Shiri bat Marget, I hold on to their words with all my broken heart. May HaShem use our prayers to bring comfort to the Bibas and Lifshitz families and all those who have been bereaved in this horrible war.

Cheap Blood

 On October 15th 2023, nine days into the war then Israeli Energy Minister, Israel Katz, said not a single electricity switch will be flipped on, not a single faucet will be turned on, and not a single fuel truck will enter ( Gaza) until the Israeli hostages are returned home. Obviously, he didn’t follow through with his declaration. Why not? The world tied our hands, maintaining that we had to supply humanitarian aid to the very people who murdered, raped, burned, and kidnapped us. What is the result? Tomorrow, 491 days later, Hamas is releasing dead hostages. Why is Jewish blood so cheap?

Communication

Last week, there was a post on Facebook with the comment: Anyone who dares to disagree with me will be blocked and unfriended. I was horrified. What has happened to dialogue? Do we no longer look for points we can agree on?

Recently, someone I cared about passed away. She was never terribly fond of the religious community. However, as I told her sons, she always treated me with respect. And she could always find something that we both had in common. We could have concentrated on our differences but did not, and now I am left with good memories of a dynamic woman who tried to make the world a better place her way.

Hope

 

Ever since Ohad Ben Ami, Eli Sharabi, and Or Levy were released gaunt and emaciated this past Shabbat many are saying the remaining hostages must be in worse shape and we have to be realistic. I DO NOT WANT TO BE REALISTIC! Last night I heard Ditza Or, Avinatan’s mother, speak at Hostage Square. With yearning she described her vision of her son’s return. She has not given up hope and she is my role model. So I will continue to beg, plead, pray, and hope that Avinatan, along with all the others, will return home already this week and be able to rebuild their lives.    

 

 

Terrorists

 

Friday my husband and I traveled to the Golan. On the way we passed through Beit Shean and remembered the terror attack from November 19, 1974. At that time, we were spending our “honeymoon” as volunteers on a nearby kibbutz. Since we were close to the then hostile Jordanian border security was tight. No one was allowed to approach the kibbutz’s fence by foot after dark. Guard duty was taken very seriously. I still remember the men dressed in prayer shawls holding their guns as they stood in the back of the synagogue and prayed. On that November day, fifty years ago, three terrorists infiltrated the border and made their way to an apartment building in Beit Shean. They murdered four Israelis before the security forces arrived and were able to eliminate them. More than twenty residents were injured, most of them by jumping to safety from second and third floor apartments. Before the army could stop the enraged crowd, they hurled the terrorists’ dead bodies out of the windows, poured petrol on them, and set them ablaze. Dead terrorists do not need our sympathy. Neither do living ones. They do not deserve good treatment in prison. They should not be able to complete their college education while incarcerated. It’s a disgrace that their families receive slay-for-pay benefits. Although not a not a politically correct statement, I believe the only good terrorist is a dead one.  Once dead their terror organizations have no reason to kidnap innocent children, women, and men in order to barter for the release of murderous criminals.

 

 

 

 

 

Hostage Deal

 An excerpt from an article I wrote on Aish,com 24 years ago. Sara Leisha's murderer is slated to be released in the hostage deal.

NOVEMBER 13, 2000

It is our turn to take food to the soldiers again. This time our youngest daughter wants to come, too. We see an Egged bus traveling off its regular route. That can only mean one thing -- the main road is closed. I find myself hoping, in my heart, that it is closed because of an accident, not something more serious.

We turn on the news and learn that there was a shooting halfway between Shilo and Ofra. Three people are hurt. Immediately, I do a mental inventory. My children are all accounted for. What about my friends and neighbors? I want to hear the names and at the same time I am dreading hearing them. By the time we finish giving out the food at the third hilltop, the news reports that three Jews have been murdered.

Our oldest son is waiting for us when we arrive home. He has more details. Two of the murdered were soldiers. The third was Sara Leisha. Sara is, I guess I should say was, the girls' sports teacher here. Sara was a favorite teacher, beloved by students, parents and teachers for her special smile and her way of always greeting us with something positive and friendly.

Before I can put my thoughts together and deal with the shock and grief, the phone rings. It is my 14-year-old daughter calling from her high school. It was just the beginning of September that we took her to The Ulpana, a girl's high school two hours from Shilo. She was so eager to be meeting girls from all over Israel. Now she is crying. She has already heard the news about her former teacher. My heart aches that I cannot comfort her. I calm her as much as I am able, but I know that she and the other girls from Shilo are probably going to make each other more hysterical.

I must get a hold of someone from the staff of the high school, but the switchboard is closed. Finally I reach the rabbi. I stress that the girls need a mother to put her arms around them and tell them that everything will be alright -- even though nothing will ever be the same for them again, now that their lives have been touched by murder.

Everything feels so heavy and overbearing. My husband and I try to relax by going for a walk together. We hear gunshots and learn that Arabs are shooting at cars coming into Shilo. In one of these cars is Sara Leisha's brother.

In spite of my terror, I remind myself that for every car getting shot at there are dozens more that leave and come into Shilo daily without any problems. Statistics tell us that are chances of being killed in a car accident are far greater than in a terrorist attack.

Relatives from America tell us we should move. Our rabbis tell us we should keep on with our normal lives.

I can't imagine leaving Shilo. My father ran from Nazi Germany. I ran from American assimilation. If we run from Shilo today, where will we run from tomorrow? Where is it safe for Jews if not in the Land of Israel?