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| courtesy of inn.co.il |
I was saddened by the headline that appeared Thursday
knowing that the soldier was someone’s son, probably a brother, perhaps a
husband, sweetheart, or father, certainly a friend. Somewhere in Israel there
were people in pain, hoping and praying for his recovery. Those were my
thoughts and then I went on with my day.
Later in the afternoon, though, I received an
email on the Shilo list urging all of us to pray for this soldier, Ronen Ben
Elna. The tragedy was coming a little closer. One of my neighbors had some
connection to the young man.
Then in the evening I understood the
connection somewhat better. My daughter asked to borrow our car. Her car was
with one of her husband’s close friends, Moshe, who, it seemed, was in turn a close
friend of the soldier. Moshe used my children’s car in his rush to get to the
hospital. It was Moshe’s mother, Bella, who’d sent out the email. Now I
understood why.
Only I hadn’t truly understood. The next day
my daughter set me straight. The injured soldier wasn’t a friend. He was a
cousin, Bella’s nephew. Bella and her husband came to Shilo two dozen years
ago. Originally immigrants from Russia they quickly became the unofficial
liaisons for the elderly Russians who settled in our village.
I like Bella. She’s pragmatic and generous.
Eight years ago my husband was stranded in England for ten days following the
volcano in Iceland. I was alone for Shabbat, the Shabbat of Bella’s third son’s
Bar Mitzvah. She discovered my situation following Friday night services and
without hesitation invited me to join her family for their meals.
Thankfully, I’d already received invitations
but I appreciated her willingness to include me in her happiness. Had I
accepted her invitation I probably would have met Ronen, hy”d. As it is, I’m
sure I’d seen him at the various happy occasions his aunt and uncle celebrated
in Shilo. Knowing him or not, the tragedy felt more personal.
As I lit candles Friday night I said a prayer
for Ronen. An optimistic person I reminded myself of the soldier who’d had a
boulder dropped on his head years ago. After seven months in the hospital he
returned to a normal life. I remained hopeful throughout Shabbat but once it
ended I received the bitter news. Ronen Lubarsky had died.
The funeral was scheduled for two in the
morning. The following day as I looked at the news pictures it pained me to see
Bella and her family at the cemetery.
There was a clip of Ronen’s brother eulogizing him and Sivan Rahav Meir
translated his touching words.
My dear brother,
you always fought. They say that free choice is the strongest point in a human
being, and you chose - you did it all your life. Through all the closed doors -
you entered. Wherever they told you 'no', you said 'yes'. At school, in soccer,
in Krav Maga, in the academic realm at school where you experienced challenges
but in the end excelled. You were always stubborn, always fighting with
everything you had.
"To my
deep sorrow, the IDF soldiers deal with the threats you experienced every day,
every night. Wild beasts await them on the roofs. The Duvdevan soldiers and the
entire IDF have to face washing machines thrown down at them, as well as
bricks, like the one you got. I pray to G-d that our leaders, whom I love, will
do something about it.
"I turn
to the People of Israel: More than these beasts should find their deaths, it is
important that you all should live your lives with joy, love and faith. Build
glorious families with many children. Take upon yourselves something good to
do, something small. And slowly, in the merit of our good deeds, there will be
less and less funerals. Even in these painful days I am happy, because the
People of Israel have given my family a huge hug, which I never believed could
exist. Our big victory is to live a full life.
"Ronik, I love you".
With his few words Arik gave me hope, hope
that we as a people can truly make a change. Hope that we can end the cruel and
senseless hate. Hope that we can indeed make a better world.
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