When I was a kid, I found a book at my grandparents’ house about the Holocaust. In fact, I found many books. I found myself quietly going into my grandfather’s study and reading those books, even though I knew that what I would find there would give me terrible nightmares. I read the horrific accounts, unable to believe that human beings could actually commit such barbaric atrocities.
Never did I believe that such a thing could happen in our era, but of course, what a childish attitude. The Jews who lived in 1939 also considered themselves to be a part of the modern era. But the way my childish mind dealt with these accounts, that I read with one eye squished shut, as though to block out the enormity of the horror, was to tell myself that these were stories of the past. Never did I believe these would become the stories of our present.
Never did I imagine holding my precious grandson and trying to understand how anyone could harm a beautiful innocent baby. Never before have I looked at the faces of sweet 13-year-old girls, now hostages of an evil empire, and think it could be my own beautiful daughter. Never did I think so deeply about 20-year-olds going into combat and consider my own sensitive, intelligent 20-year-old daughter. Never did I look at pictures of 23-year-old hostages, abducted from a music festival, and think of my own 23-year-old music-loving boy with his curly hair and ready smile.
Never have I spent so many nights crying myself to sleep. Never have I leaned so heavily on the magnificent words of King David, in the Book of Psalms, expressing his personal and national angst through the prism of a rock solid faith and an unshakable, confident belief that God would restore justice and joy to the world.
Never have I felt so proud to be Jewish; never have I felt so connected to my fellow Jews all over the world. Never, never have I spent so much time thinking about Jewish pride, never have I felt so anxious, never have I felt so grateful to have the corpus of Jewish scholarship and inspiration as my birthright. And never have I felt so empowered to share that magnificence with others.
Never have I wondered so viscerally what I would do if that were me, trapped in my home with my children, surrounded by terrorists. Never have I prayed so hard. Never have I prayed with so many tears. Never have I felt such comfort and solidarity, surrounded by my Jewish friends and community. Never have I pined so deeply to be in Israel, in my Land, in my home, my spiritual core. Never have I felt God so tangibly, and never have I wondered so forlornly when He will make this all stop.
Never again will I lazily rely on complacency to comfort me. Never again will I look at King David’s words the same. Never again will I feel shy about sharing my faith with others. Never again will I ever be the same. Never.
“Though I may walk in the valley of the shadow of death, I will not fear, because You are with me.” (King David, Psalms 23)
As always Ruchie you are spot on. Amazing article and all so true. I felt your heart beating as I read this and heard your voice quivering.
Thank you 🙏 very meaningful.
Never did I think that here in Yerushalayim we would have to calculate as we walk around the neighborhood where would we dash to if there were a Tzeva Adom (missile alert).
Never did I think that some Rabbanim would say we should modify the “tein tal u’matar” prayer for rain (which we in Israel began reciting on 7 Heshvan) because rain falling on and near Gaza might interfere with the war effort. (Most rabbanim say to leave the text as is, because it does contain the word “livracha”, i.e., for a blessing.)
Wishing us all shalom v’shalva.