05 Nov A HOUSE OF CELEBRATION AND HOUSES OF MOURNING

When my cousin’s
daughter asked me to
officiate her wedding in
Israel the week after
Sukkos, how could I say
no? Her mother, my
beloved first cousin,
passed away at a young
age from cancer. She loved Israel and at
several points in her too-short life wanted to
live there but never had the chance to realize
that dream. Her daughter, passionate about
Torah, the Jewish people, and Eretz Yisroel,
moved to Israel shortly after getting up from
shiva. She enlisted, rose to be an officer in
the IDF, and proudly wore her olive green
IDF skirt throughout. She met her husband,
an amazing young man who, like her and like
Avraham Avinu before them, got up, left his
family to answer the call of Lech Lecha, and
went to settle in Hashem’s land. After
learning in Yeshiva he too served in the IDF.
These two beautiful souls finding each other
and committing to building the Jewish people
in the Jewish homeland was truly a special
occasion not to be missed.
And now, at a magnificent chuppa with the
hills of Yerushalayim as the backdrop, I had
the tremendous honor and privilege to marry
them. But there was something I needed to do
first.
In Koheles (7:2), Shlomo HaMelech, the
טֹוב ָָלֶלֶֶכֶת ֶא ּ ֶ ל ֵּבית ֵאֵ ֶבֶל ,taught ,men all of wisest
ִּמִ ֶּלֶכֶת ֶא ּ ֶ ל ֵּבית ִמִ ְׁשֶּׁתּה ַּבֲּא ׁ ֲֶׁשר הּוא ּ סֹוף ָּכל ָָהָאָ ָדָ ם ְוְ ַהַַחַי ִי ּ ִֵּתן
וֹבּלִִ ל ֶאֶ,” It is better to go to a house of
mourning than to a house of celebration; for
that is the end of every man, and a living one
should take it to heart.”
As Israel’s longest war in its history continues
to rage on across multiple fronts, we
tragically, regularly continue to see and hear
the most dreaded words: “Released for
publication.” Heroic, seemingly ordinary but
truly extraordinary soldiers continue to make
the ultimate sacrifice, their families paying
the ultimate price to protect, defend and fight
for the Jewish people. Indeed, as our rabbis
taught two thousand years ago (Berachos 5a),
Eretz Yisroel nikneis b’yesurin, the land of
Israel is acquired and held with sacrifice and
struggle.
I paid a shiva call to the family of Rav Avi
Goldberg Hy”d. A tent was set up to
accommodate the countless visitors who
came from all over: friends, family, political
leaders, and “strangers” like me who came to
comfort, share in the pain and pay tribute to
this incredibly special man. It was
heartbreaking to see his children clutch
framed pictures of him. It was moving to
hear his wife Rachel talk about him and offer
a heartfelt plea for all segments of Am Yisroel
to share in the burden of this war. R’ Avi
loved and excelled at music, using it to arouse

the souls of many, and so the family requested
music be part of the shiva. Accompanied by
a guitar and a violin, the many packed in the
tent joined in a slow, stirring niggun. At that
moment, eyes closed and swaying in unison,
all those gathered were singing the song of
the Jewish people, the song of pain and of
joy, a song of eternity.
That day, I was scheduled to meet with R’
Avi’s brother Eliezer about another matter.
We indeed met, but instead of at a coffee shop
or in an office, it was with him sitting in a low
chair and my desperately trying to find words
that would be meaningful. He shared about
his brother’s special character and impact
and I communicated that I represented not
only myself, my family and our community,
but I was there on behalf of all Am Yisrael
around the world sharing in their pain and
expressing our boundless gratitude.
I shared the same message at the second
shiva call, to the family of Sammy Harari
Hy”d. Sammy came to yeshiva for his gap
year and decided to stay and serve in the IDF
and build his life in Israel. His dedication to
our people and to our country was
unwavering. He was 35 years old and lived
in Tzefat with his wife, Anna, and their three
children.
“It is better to go to a house of mourning than
to a house of celebration.” Commentators
explain that Shlomo HaMelech encouraged
going to a shiva home over a simcha because
a simcha is prospective. We share our hope,
dreams and ambitions for the future of this
new couple, this Bar Mitzvah boy or Bat
Mitzvah girl, this new baby. A shiva home is
retrospective, reflective of the legacy,
influence and impact the person made. Each
of these precious soldiers, our kedoshim who
are now sitting next to the Kisei HaKavod,
directly adjacent to Hashem’s throne, leave
the highest legacy of having been moseir
nefesh for the Jewish people.
On this short trip, I also visited Hadassah
Hospital to spend time with injured soldiers.
Unlike previous trips in which the injured
were young soldiers in the middle of their
mandatory service, each of those I visited this
time was a reservist, these were people who
had left their family multiple times to fight,
often on different fronts.
In one room were three men who had been
injured less than a week before in Lebanon.
Hezbollah fighters saw them coming and
released gas in the house they were entering.
In many countries, gas companies add a
chemical with a distinctive smell to alert
people to a gas leak but natural gas has no
odor and so these soldiers had no idea they
were entering a home filled with gas.
Protocol calls for opening fire when entering
an area with terrorists. When these soldiers
entered the home and the first one opened

fire, it ignited the gas, causing an explosion.
The terrorists were positioned nearby and
opened fire after the explosion. One of the
soldier’s legs was literally on fire while he
continued to shoot back and fight the
terrorists.
Hanging next to his hospital bed are the
remnants of the uniform, a testament to the
miracle of his being alive. These soldiers had
bandages on their legs, fingers and one had
burns on his face. One of them has four
children, the youngest two months old, born
during his service. Another got married in
between serving his reserve duties. They all
spoke with faith, determination, gratitude,
positivity and a message to Jews everywhere
that it is time to come home and be part of
this destiny.
In another room was a soldier who was
injured on Yom Kippur night in Lebanon.
His father shared that he was so badly
compromised, losing so much blood, that at
one point they felt he wouldn’t survive and
no more resources or time should be spent on
him. Nevertheless, they continued and there
he was recovering and improving, eager to
return home to his wife and children. The
soldier mentioned that in his life he had
donated a lot of blood, never knowing that he
was actually making a deposit for one day
needing to take a withdrawal to save his life.
As hashgacha had it, his uncle is a friend of
mine, someone I went to Yeshiva with.
In a third room was a soldier injured on the
border with Syria. He was the quietist, and
seemed to be struggling the most physically
and emotionally, but after spending a few
minutes, showering him with love, as we
were leaving his room, he perked up to call to
us and say, “Am Yisrael Chai.”
On this trip, I spent time with my heroic
friend who fought in Gaza, saw and
experienced horrific things, and has been
suffering with diagnosed PTSD. Despite
support, medication, and therapy, he
continues to have panic attacks, and it isn’t
unusual for him to wake up in the middle of
the night from a nightmare, drenched in
sweat and with a racing heart.
He shared with me that he had recently been
in the park with his children when they saw a
young boy on the playground crying. He
approached the boy asking what is wrong, is
he hurt. The boy responded, no I am angry
and there is nothing you can do about it. He
asked the boy what happened and the young
boy explained that his father is back in
milu’im, reserve duty, and his uncle picked
him up from school instead of his father and
he is very upset about it. My friend said, are
you hungry, let’s go buy a treat and the boy
said, no I am not eating. He asked, why not
and the boy said, I don’t want to eat until my
father comes home and we can eat together.

After spending some time showing some
love and support, the boy calmed down and
went home to get something to eat. There are
literally thousands of children in Israel like
this young boy, some expressing their
feelings, many not, and we cannot lose sight
of how many families continue to feel the
impact of this war on a daily basis.
This past year I have been fortunate to have
gone to Israel for numerous missions, visiting
army bases, hospitals, hostage families,
displaced families, and doing all kinds of
volunteering. As Yom Tov here ended and I
prepared for this trip, I thought, perhaps
naively, that I was going for a wedding and to
see my family. I thought that the chamals,
cheder milchamah, the wartime volunteer
command centers were closed, the volunteer
opportunities had grinded to a halt, but I was
terribly wrong. There is still so much to do,
so much love to show and share, so much
support, financial, emotional to provide, so
many people to spend time with.
The director of Hadassah hospital told me
that visits have slowed down but there are
still so many soldiers recovering and in rehab
who cherish the chance to tell their story, to
receive some love and to connect with Jews,
particularly from outside of Israel.
It has now been more than a year. Fatigue
may have set in for many, but it can’t for our
soldiers. They are still fighting on multiple
fronts, their families continue to have to
experience and navigate their absence while
they serve. For the new orphans and widows
there is nothing old about this war.
They are doing their part. We must continue
to do ours. A member of our community
visited an army rest area outside Gaza over
Sukkos. One of the tables still holds a letter a
child wrote that we delivered back in March.
Continue to write letters to soldiers.
Continue to learn and daven for those serving
and all those injured physically and
emotionally. When planning winter vacation
or your next trip, consider going to Israel to
visit hospitals, those still displaced from the
north, or army bases.
We daven and long for the day that we go to
Israel only to attend simchas and happy
occasions.