Dear Friends,
I hope this note finds you well and managing these complex times.
Yoske Shapira was an exceptional person, a lifelong educator, restless activist, and one-time Israeli government minister whose love for Eretz Yisrael was deep. He came by that honestly as he was a son of Rav Yeshayahu Shapira, brother of the famed Piazeczner Rebbe, the Aish Kodesh hy”d, who chose to leave his anticipated role as a Chasidic Rebbe in Poland and instead play a part in the religious resettlement of Eretz Yisrael. One day during the early days of the Second Intifada, I was sitting with Yoske when news came of yet another horrific terror attack claiming several lives in Israel. We both paused to absorb the terrible news, but moments later – way sooner than I could handle – Yoske drew himself up straight and said: “These are terribly difficult losses, but they must not derail our hopes and plans. They are the price we must be prepared to pay to have Eretz Yisrael.”
To those who did not know him, his words sound cold, but they were anything but. The man’s warm heart filled any room he happened to be in, and his genuine love for people – especially those who dedicated themselves to Eretz Yisrael – was palpable. He was reminding himself to see beyond the horrible pain of the moment and recognize it as one of the birth pangs of a stunning Jewish present and future.
This critical and mature perspective that Yoske shared at that moment derived from what Yaakov gave his own son for life.
Rachel wanted children more than anything, saying to her husband Yaakov (Bereishit 30:1), “hava li banim v’im ayin meita anochi, give me children or let me die.” Fatefully, her words were fulfilled to the letter. She was given two sons, and as the second was entering the world, she was leaving it (Bereishit 35:18): “With her last breath, she named him Ben Oni (son of my pain), but his father called him Binyamin (son of my strength).” While the name chosen by Rachel focused on the indescribably painful grief of that moment of her separation from life and from her newborn, the name her son would carry would positively eternalize her investment of every bit of her life and strength into bringing that son to life. It was Yaakov’s responsibility as the surviving parent to transform the tragedy of Rachel’s pain at birth into the powerful determination that he would carry throughout his life. “Do not be afraid; you have been given another son!”
This morning, one of my sisters in Israel shared with me a mass text sent by the Rav of her community, Nof Ayalon, suggesting public songs of thanks to Hashem this Shabbat:
“The Talmud (Sanhedrin 94a) notes that while God had sought to make King Chizkiyahu the Moshiach, He ultimately did not because of Chizkiyahu’s failure to thank God in full voice for all the remarkable miracles they had experienced.
In recent months, we have experienced incredible miracles, “crazy stuff” that our fathers and grandfathers never merited to experience. We were spared damage from missiles, drones, and all forms of harm.
While we must continue praying for the defeat of the enemy, healing of the injured, return of the hostages, and comfort for the bereaved families, we must not allow ourselves to repeat Chizkiyahu’s mistake. We must express gratitude for all God’s miracles.”
There has been and there continues to be so much loss and so much pain. In the spirit of Yaakov Avinu and the words of Yoske, we must not allow this to derail our determination, hopes, and plans, or our recognition of the promise that is visibly emerging from all this pain.
We will continue to pray, to express gratitude, and to hope.
Have a wonderful Shabbos, and may we be blessed with besorot tovot, wonderful news.
Moshe Hauer