Day: November 1, 2023

Stepping onto the war-torn soil of Israel, we continually confront the profound sorrow and palpable loss. Every stop tells a story of devastation, as countless individuals bear the scars of conflict, nursing their injuries and mourning the irreplaceable loss of relatives, friends, and homes. Our mission is clear – amidst the rubble and the tears, we endeavor to be a source of comfort and support, a testament to the resilience of the human spirit.

Our interactions with the wounded and grieving paint a vivid picture of the impact of our presence. Grieving parents, with eyes filled with an indescribable blend of pain and gratitude, express how our company strengthens their spirits. Wounded soldiers, carrying the physical and emotional scars of battle, find in our visits a momentary reprieve, a connection to a world outside their pain. The recurring message is clear: our presence matters.

Yet, in quiet moments of reflection, doubt inevitably creeps in. The scale of suffering is overwhelming, with tens of thousands bearing the brunt of the Hamas’ fury. Can our individual acts of kindness truly make a dent in this vast expanse of grief? Is our effort akin to a drop in an ocean, too insignificant to be felt? It is here that the timeless story of the starfish seems particularly poignant.

There was once an old man who used to go to the ocean to do his writing. He had a habit of walking on the beach every morning before he began his work. Early one morning, he was walking along the shore after a big storm had passed and found the vast beach littered with starfish as far as the eye could see, stretching in both directions.

Off in the distance, the old man noticed a small boy approaching. As the boy walked, he paused every so often and as he grew closer, the man could see that he was occasionally bending down to pick up an object and throw it into the sea. The boy came closer still and the man called out, ‘Good morning! May I ask what it is that you are doing?’

The young boy paused, looked up, and replied ‘Throwing starfish into the ocean. The tide has washed them up onto the beach and they can’t return to the sea by themselves,’ the youth replied. ‘When the sun gets high, they will die, unless I throw them back into the water.’

The old man replied, ‘But there must be tens of thousands of starfish on this beach. I’m afraid you won’t really be able to make much of a difference.’

The boy bent down, picked up yet another starfish and threw it as far as he could into the ocean. Then he turned, smiled and said, “It made a difference to that one!”

This timeless narrative serves as a powerful reminder that the magnitude of our impact should not be measured in the vastness of the challenge, but in the connection we forge and the meaning we bring to individual lives. We may not be able to change the reality of the entirety of the people of Israel, but to each grieving parent and wounded soldier we encounter, we are a testament to the power of human connection and compassion. In the midst of overwhelming sorrow, our efforts affirm that they are not alone, and indeed, it made a difference to that one.

Is it possible for a grieving mother to welcome strangers into her home, greet them warmly and patiently, only to then offer them words of comfort and inspiration?

Is it possible for a 19-year-old soldier, freshly recovered from injuries, to insist on returning to the battlefield, forgoing additional time to recover?

Is it possible for a mother of seven children, managing a bustling and lively household, to maintain a joyful spirit while her husband has been away at war for over three weeks?

Is it possible for countless families, displaced from their homes, to display joy and an acceptance while confined to small hotel rooms, with an uncertain future ahead?

Is it possible for individuals, fully engaged in the grueling task of identifying the mutilated remains of hundreds of men, women and children, to maintain grace, composure, warmth, love, optimism, and hope?

Is it possible for hundreds of soldiers, bearing the weight of war-related stress, to spontaneously burst into song, expressing praise and gratitude to Hashem?

Is it possible for parents whose children are being held in captivity to focus their spoken thoughts on their love for the land and the people of Israel?

Is it possible for injured civilians and soldiers to receive hundreds of cards, visits, gifts and calls from people they’ve never met?

Is it possible for a Holocaust survivor, who endured the unspeakable atrocities of the concentration camps, to maintain hope and optimism while having to relive unspeakable traumatic memories?

Is it possible for a community, struck by a catastrophic raid of terror, to come together, support each other, and vow to rebuild with resilience and strength?

Yes, it is possible. I’ve seen it with my own eyes.

ה’ עז לעמו יתן ה’ יברך את עמו בשלום

The sun had barely set, casting a soft golden hue over the city, as a somber silence filled the air. A young visitor, with a heavy heart and words stuck in his throat, walked hesitantly towards a mourning family. They had just lost a brave son, a relentless fighter against the terrors of Hamas. In this moment of unspeakable grief, the young visitor searched deep within for the right words of consolation, the words that could bring even a sliver of comfort to the shattered hearts before him.

It was in this delicate moment of shared sorrow and solidarity that he found the strength to whisper, “המקום ינחם אתכם – May Hashem (lit. “The Place”) comfort you.” These ancient words, passed down through generations, carry with them a profound and unique consolation. Referring to God as “The Place” is an uncommon choice, yet it holds special resonance. “המקום” signifies stability, an unchanging sanctuary, and a source of eternal comfort. It is a reminder that even in the darkest times, there is a refuge, a constant presence that embraces the grieving and offers solace. This choice of words conveys the deep-seated belief that Hashem is not distant or detached, but an ever-present sanctuary, providing unwavering support in times of sorrow.

In the land of Israel, this connection takes on even greater meaning. The land itself is seen as a source of comfort and strength, embodying the resilience and fortitude of its people. Those who dedicate their lives to this land, fighting against the threats and terrors that seek to undermine its peace, do so with a purpose greater than themselves. They find solace in their deep connection to the place, becoming part of its story, its struggle, and its enduring spirit.

The land of Israel, steadfast and unyielding, provides an unwavering foundation in a world fraught with uncertainty. It’s more than a mere geographical entity; it’s a living testament to the power of perseverance and strength. The land has absorbed the scars of time and adversity, and yet, it remains resolute and sturdy. The people of Israel derive strength from The Place, finding solace in the land’s relentless spirit and its capacity to weather the harshest storms.

המקום ינחם אתכם

As the visitor steps away, having shared words of consolation, he leaves behind a flicker of comfort, revealing the resilience inherent in the land and its people. The land of Israel, “The Place,” reveals itself as a profound anchor in this moment of grief. It extends its ancient arms of stability, enveloping the mourning family in a sanctuary of comfort. Here, in their time of deepest sorrow, they are gently reminded that they are not alone; they are held by a land rich in history and strength, a place that stands unwavering, offering them a steadfast foundation and a connection to something greater.

המקום ינחם אתכם בתוך שאר אבלי ציון וירושלים