By Leah Garber
All of us who have children, grandchildren, younger siblings, or nephews and nieces are familiar with the excitement that accompanies birthdays. For the grownups, these special days are landmarks—seeing the children grow right before our eyes and watching these wonders of life turn into independent thinkers with opinions and desires. With every passing year, we can sense the future that is emerging, predict how these beautiful flowers that we water daily and nurture with love and devotion will bloom.
For the children themselves, the excitement is much more prosaic—the anticipation of the chocolate cake, candy, gifts, being kings and queens for a day, wrapped in treats. A day of pure joy.
But there are sad birthdays too—and those we mark rather than celebrate. These are birthdays where the day’s guest of honor is missing and cannot celebrate as queen or king for the day. Today Ariel Bibas turns 5 years old. Four and a bit of those years were blessed with endless bliss and joy, and the balance, 10 months, have been an enduring hell. This little boy, for a fifth of his life, has been held captive by the cruelest terrorists, while his fate and the fate of his family are unknown. Are they alive? Dead? Does his hair still shine like the sun, filling his parents’ hearts with a beautiful orange, or has the light faded away? Orange took on a new meaning this year as the lovely hair color of the Bibas children, Ariel and his little brother, Kfir—and now symbolizes the struggle for their release.
For 303 days, the iconic Chords Bridge in Jerusalem has been illuminated in blue and white, representing the Israeli flag. Last night it was lit up in orange in honor of Ariel’s birthday. It is a great light, but it cannot penetrate the wall of despair that separates us from Gaza nor the dark walls of the terror tunnels that cover the members of the Bibas family and the other 111 hostages who have been buried alive for almost 10 months.
Ariel, like many children, loved Batman, an almighty hero and the ultimate redeemer from evil. Where is Batman when we need him most?!
Ariel’s aunt, Fifi, wrote to him today:
Luli, you are a hero, like Batman [whom] you love so much. And my wish for you—that you get to celebrate your next birthday. That we will get to hug you again, see you play with your cousins—dance with Toam, go wild with Negev, and that you get to know our new baby Afik, that you get to be a big brother to Kfir, that you hug Abba Jordan again, Ima Shiri will then plan your sixth birthday, as it should be. We have not given up on you, I love you very much, Aunt Fifi.
What wrong did these children do? Ariel, Kfir, and too many others who were kidnapped from their beds, barefoot and in pajamas on a holiday morning? Did so many babies and toddlers deserve to be murdered with indescribable cruelty that morning, to face evil with their last breath?
A few days ago, two of our grandchildren asked their parents to go to the Kotel, the Western Wall in Jerusalem, to pray. Six-year-old Tal and 8-year-old Shaked stuck a note with two requests between the Kotel’s stones: “That the hostages will return and that they—my grandchildren—will receive an electric Lego.” Although I’m all in favor of electric Lego, my prayer is that their first wish will come true—fast—and that all the hostages will return long before Tal and Shaked get a new Lego.
The Western Wall in the Old City of Jerusalem is one of the four retaining walls that surrounded the Temple Mount, and it has endured for about 2,000 years, from the end of the Second Temple period to the present day. The stones of the Wall have seen many tears in that time. Layers of sadness are embedded in them, the sorrow and suffering of generations of Jews. But it seems that for the last 304 days, a quota of grief is weighing especially heavily on these seemingly human, attentive stones.
Today the Jewish world marks the beginning of the Hebrew month of Av. According to tradition, during the month of Av various calamities and catastrophes occurred in the Jewish world throughout the ages, including the destruction of the two Temples in Jerusalem, the last in 70 A.D. Given the sequence of historical events that befell our nation over the years, it is customary to attach the word “Menachem,” which means “comfort” to the name of the month: Menachem Av.
These days, while our entire country is under terrible tension in the face of threats from the north and the east and we are enduring the exhausting and frightening uncertainty of what’s to come, all we ask is that this month of calamity will, indeed, give way to comfort.
The pain and sorrow are not limited to the walls of Jerusalem or the borders of Israel. They are carried over stormy waters and are deeply felt across the Jewish world. That is where, for the last 10 months, JCCs have been sensitively weaving solidarity with us and our suffering into their daily programs and activities.
This week, following an incredibly successful set of JCC Maccabi® Games in Detroit, the Games began in Houston, Texas. At last night’s opening ceremony, Ziv Shalit, the JCC Maccabi® Games shaliach (emissary) sang “Coming Home” in this incredibly moving performance. I watched it again and again, crying and praying that Ariel, Kfir, and all the other hostages will be coming home soon and that there will be enough rain to wash away all the pain of yesterday.
Little Ariel, we are so sorry you had to be a victim of hate. Please forgive us that you are forced to pay the price that evil exacts. Wherever you are, Ariel, know that we are all redheads today. An entire nation remembers your special day. We can’t wait to celebrate your birthday with you when you come back home. We are saving all the chocolate cake just for you. We asked Batman to fly over and save you, all of you, and to carry you back to Israel where children will never again be massacred, burned alive, ripped from their parents’ arms, or kidnapped to the darkness of hell.
Come back home, sweet Ariel, to celebrate your birthday with Abba and Ima and baby brother Kfir. Come back to where you belong. Come home, because only then can we together, united, overcome.
Leah Garber is a senior vice president of JCC Association of North America and director of its Center for Israel Engagement in Jerusalem.
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