By Leah Garber
יְבָרֶכְךָ יְהוָה, וְיִשְׁמְרֶךָ
יָאֵר יְהוָה פָּנָיו אֵלֶיךָ, וִיחֻנֶּךָּ
יִשָּׂא יְהוָה פָּנָיו אֵלֶיךָ, וְיָשֵׂם לְךָ שָׁלוֹם
May the LORD bless thee and keep thee.
May the LORD shine his face toward thee and be gracious unto thee.
May the Lord lift his face toward thee and give thee peace.
Birkat Kohanim | The Priestly Blessing, Numbers 6:24-26
With broken hearts, sore throats, and hope mixed with despair, families of the hostages arrived three days ago at Israel’s border with Gaza and called out to their loved ones. Their shattered voices tried to penetrate Gaza’s iron walls of hatred and cruelty to instill a drop of hope in their loved ones’ hearts. Perhaps, they thought, hearing familiar, caring voices from home would provide the hostages with the strength to hold up.
Rachel Goldberg, Hersh’s mother, was standing with the others and offered her son the Birkat Kohanim, the Priestly Blessing. Her cry will forever remain engraved in the heart of this nation. “Hersh,” she said, “I love you; stay strong; survive!” These holy words, coming from a mother’s tormented heart, may have been the last words Hersh heard—and certainly the last words of comfort—before his murder. Likely on that same day, Hamas brutally murdered Hersh and five other hostages, whose bodies, in horrible physical condition from continuous neglect, were found last night. He and the others, Ori Danino, Alex Lobanov, Almog Sarusi, Eden Yerushalmi, and Carmel Gat survived for 330 days, until they were murdered.
Only three days ago, one after the other, their family members came to the podium, held a microphone, and called out to their loved ones. Their screams ripped through the sky and all our hearts. Were these desperate cries carried by winds across the border? Did birds, hearing children’s longing in those voices, carry their grief and sorrow on their wings, offering them to the hostages while they could still hear them? Or, were the cries lost in the thick air, so full of death, that they evaporated in the face of evil?
As if this terrible news isn’t enough, in a terrorist attack this morning near Jerusalem, three police officers were shot and killed by terrorists.
One of the three officers, First Sergeant Roni Shakuri, lost his daughter, Sergeant First Class Mor Shakuri, who was killed defending the Sderot police station during the October 7 attacks.
Roni did not succumb to the pain of bereavement nor to the forces of grief and sorrow. Following his daughter’s shivah, Roni returned to duty to continue the mission for which he—and his daughter—enlisted: to protect Israel and its people.
Israel is threatened on seven fronts, and our soldiers are fighting like lions, with bravery and dedication. We have never had such a fine, committed, loyal generation like this one. For 331 days, we have been fighting for our survival, and we are exhausted.
Given the magnitude of the day’s events, Israelis spontaneously decided that today would be a day of mourning. Restaurants and places of entertainment will remain closed tonight, and hundreds of thousands of us will fill the streets calling for a deal to release all the hostages now—before it is too late for the 101 of us still held captive in Gaza. In addition, Israel’s workers’ union announced a general economic strike on Monday, in the wake of the murder of the hostages and the need to promote a deal to release all the hostages. This unusual strike will include all sectors—Israel’s airports, education system, universities, and other entities and businesses. We have not seen rage like this among the Israeli public for a long time.
It is impossible to describe how we are feeling today. An entire country cries, mourns, embraces the families as they bury their loved ones. Since October 7, these families have not rested for a moment. For 330 days they reached every corner of the world, met with whomever was willing to listen and help. They stunned the hearts of world leaders with their supplication, but today their painful journey ends. Their loved ones did not survive.
An entire nation bows its head in front of the endless pain that surrounds the tormented families. President Isaac Herzog, in a special message to the nation earlier today, asked for forgiveness: We failed. We couldn’t bring their loved ones back home on time.
Three-hundred-and-thirty-one days ago, Roni, Hadas, Arik, Hersh, Ori, Eden, Alex, Carmel, and Almog still dreamed and planned for the future. Three-hundred-and-thirty-one days ago, they and nearly 2,000 others were alive.
Today they are buried in soil saturated with blood, tears, and endless sadness. Their absence cries out from the ground, and the void they left behind digs a huge hole in our hearts. Are we worthy of their sacrifice?
Together, united, we will 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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