Guest Post by Rabbi Dovid Landesman
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| Eyal Yifrach, Naftali Frenkel, and Gilad Shaar |
For many of the crowd gathered in front of Tel Aviv’s city hall, Tehillim and rabbanim
would have colored the event as a representation of something with which they
find difficulty identifying. Instead, they listened as many of Israel’s leading
musicians and performers expressed their solidarity with the families and,
believe it or not, raised their voices in supplication to the Ribbono shel Olam
in a form with which everyone could identify.
At the end of the rally, the master of ceremonies revealed
that the costs of the rally had been met by the donation of a single
philanthropist, Shlomo Rechnitz of Los Angeles, who requested that a song that
he had composed to the words of Shomer Yisrael from tachanun be performed.
Rechnitz is most likely the single most
generous ba’al tzedakah in the chareidi world; few are aware of the help he
extends to other causes. How inspiring to learn that he was anxious to publicly
support an evening where Klal Yisrael in all of its myriad colors had gathered
to share its common burden.
The only speaker addressing the crowd was the president
elect, Rubi Rivlin, a direct descendent
of the talmidei ha-Gra who came to settle Eretz Yisrael in the early part of
the nineteenth century. Rivlin is not an observant Jew – at least not in his
public appearance – but from his eloquent but simple words one can discern the
depth of his connection to his people and his land. אל תשלח
ידך אל הנער– do not set your
hand against the young man – he said, quoting the malach that interceded to
save Yitzchak at the akeida.
Rivlin took the verse out of context, interpreting
it as a challenge to Hashem even though it was an instruction to Avraham. But from
the tone of his words one could clearly understand that he was beseeching God
to demonstrate His mercy, a message that he repeated when he concluded with a tefillah
that this be a time of mercy and Divine grace.
Completely missing from the rally were any bombastic threats
of retaliation, any gestures of we are strong and mighty. Rather, there was a
message of hope that we are one people, united in a shared destiny despite our
trivial – and sometimes serious – differences. Netziv, in his commentary to Shir
ha-Shirim 8:1, interprets the verse that
states: מי יתנך כאח לי - wouldst
that You were like a brother to me. Why does Israel ask God to act like her
brother? Because brothers may fight, brothers may disagree but the connection
between them can never be broken. We in Israel fight, we disagree, we mistreat
each other – but when there is trouble and misfortune, we are united as
brothers.
Yesterday, the families of the three boys went to the area
where thousands of soldiers have spent countless hours searching under every
rock and in every cave for the young men. They stopped to express their
gratitude to the clearly exhausted soldiers for their efforts and were told
repeatedly, why do you thank us, we are searching for our siblings. The gevurat
ha-nefesh – spiritual strength – that these families have demonstrated in the
days since the kidnapping is incredible and, to my mind, demonstrates the
epitome of emunah and bitachon.
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| Rachel Frenkel - mother of kidnapped teen Naftali Frenkel |
In an interview she quoted Natan
Sharansky telling her that in the years that he sat in confinement in the
gulag, completely cut off from the outside world, he was able to remain sane
and be strong because he knew that the entire nation of Israel was praying for
him.
I once heard R. Itiel Goldvicht relate the following story.
A group of soldiers – officer candidates at the IDF’s military academy – had
come to Yerushalayim for Shabbat. After davening at the Kotel, they ate the seudat
Shabbat at Aish ha-Torah. At the end of the seudah, Rav Goldvicht asked the
group if anyone would like to comment about their experiences; for many of them
it was the first time that they had ever experienced a kabbalat Shabbat.
A
number spoke, expressing their thanks and even commenting that it had been an
uplifting experience. Then a soldier got up and asked for permission to add a
few words. He introduced himself as a Druze from a village in Northern Israel.
“I’ve often wondered,” he began, “how it is possible that Israel can survive
and flourish in such a rough and antagonistic neighborhood. When I watched you
all dancing and singing tonight, without embarrassment and sharing a link to
your traditions, I realized what the answer is. When you are together, united,
there is no force in the world that can defeat you.”
Many of us are familiar with the midrash that recounts Mama
Rachel successfully beseeching the Ribbono shel Olam on behalf of her children.
Rachel’s life was a demonstration that she accepted that all that transpired
was to be accepted as the will of God. This is the reason, as it were, that God
listens specifically to her; she did not complain about her fate or misfortune.
In our generation we have been allowed to hear another Mama Rachel, Racheli
Frankel, teach us what emunah and bitachon are all about. לא נביא אני ולא בן נביא– I am not a prophet nor the son of a prophet – but I have an
instinctive feeling that we are being given a clear message from God; despite all that divides us, we are still one
people.
Whether we say tehillim in Kikar Shabbat, or listen to performers in
Kikar Rabin, the tears of Mama Rachel have the power to nurture us back to our
manifest destiny. The Ribbono shel Olam has promised the Rachels of our people
– ושבו
מארץ אויב – they will return from
the land of the enemy.
Thank you Racheli Frankel for sharing your strength with us.
