Baltimore, MD - Oct. 10, 2023  - “Hineni he’ani mi’maas nirash ve’nifchad — Here I am, impoverished of deeds, trembling and frightened…”

These words, stated by the sheliach tzibur preceding Mussaf on the Yamim Noraim a mere few weeks ago, aptly describe our situation today.

We are truly nirash ve’nifchad, trembling and frightened, like never before.

I have a daughter in seminary in Eretz Yisrael, as well as a son, daughter-in-law, and two grandchildren there, and I can hear the fear and trembling in their voices. Like the rest of Klal Yisrael, they are trying to be strong, trying to be mechazek one another, trying to be optimistic, trying not to cry, trying not to feel paralyzed. Like the rest of us, they are trying their best to be nosei be’ol with the thousand korbanos and their families, as well as the hostages.

And it is very, very difficult.

But perhaps a few thoughts will enable us to approach these next few days and weeks with more emunah, more strength, more optimism.

When I first began to digest the awful news, I found myself saying this type of tragedy is unprecedented. In our lifetime, we never faced anything like this; since the Holocaust, this is the most Yidden ever killed in one day.

But then my words began to sound familiar to my ears. Because I remembered making the same declaration not long ago, upon hearing of the tragedy in Meron. Though not as many Yidden died on that day, that type of calamity was unprecedented in its own way.

And then I remembered the word unprecedented as one of the code words of the COVID-19 lockdown, when we lost so many.

Perhaps this word keeps rearing its head because as we get closer and closer to the arrival of Mashiach, the chevlei Mashiach grow stronger and stronger. As the birth is more imminent, the contractions grow closer and closer together, each one more intense and more difficult than the one preceding it. As Mashiach comes closer, and the days are darker, we have to hold onto this thought and believe.

In Parashas Bereishis, Rashi (1:16) reveals how the moon approached the Ribbono shel Olam and said, “Two kings cannot share one crown.”  Hashem responded, “Okay, you will be made smaller.” As a result, the moon’s light was diminished. The sefer Nefesh Dovid adds that the Ribbono shel Olam instituted within creation that whenever something or someone is punished and diminished, the one punished is compensated. For this reason, He provided the moon with billions of stars, to make up for the loss of light.

This is a tried-and-true test.

Churban Bayis Rishon and Churban Bayis Sheini yielded Torah She’be’al Peh.

The period of the Crusades coincided with the era of Rashi and Tosafos.

The Spanish Inquisition was followed by the appearance of such greats as the Ramchal, the Arizal, the Ramak, Rav Chaim Vital, and the chachmei Kabbalah.

Following the Gezeiros Tach ve’Tat, we merited the Vilna Gaon and his talmidim, as well as the Baal Shem Tov and his talmidim.

After the Holocaust, we were zocheh to the greatest explosion of ruchniyus and gashmiyus since the beginning of time.

 When Hashem executes middas hadin, it brings in its wake billions of stars, an explosion and a brilliance and a radiance of light so great that it is impossible to predict beforehand. 

Yes, right now, the world of Klal Yisrael has gone dark. But even now, there are flames that flicker proudly and strongly.

You see it in the hundreds and thousands of Yidden who are going to protect us: in the battlefields in Gaza and in the battlefields of the beis midrash, where people have run back to learn Torah.

You see it on the couches, where mothers and daughters wipe away tears so they can say another perek and yet another perek of Tehillim, finishing the sefer again and again.

You see it in the chesed done throughout the world, the tzedakah generated.

You see it in the way that suddenly no machlokes matters, how Klal Yisrael indeed is growing and becoming better.

You see it in the strengthening of emunah.

 Michal Mor, a young woman in her twenties, had three babies, ages one through four. She taught kindergarten in Maayan Yosef, a school in Afula. One day in 2001, Michal left her home to deliver some treats, a cake and some cookies, to an orphaned student.

She would not return. 

Two terrorists opened fire and gunned her down in broad daylight near the Central Bus Station. 

Her husband and her children were inconsolable, her students and coworkers devastated, all who knew her shattered. 

At the sheloshim gathering, the Israeli speaker Rav Emanuel Tehillah was asked to deliver words of nechamah, and he shared a personal story.

Years ago, when I was still a young man in yeshivah, I spent an enjoyable evening with my mother. The next day, I received a shocking phone call: My mother, who was still in her prime, was no longer among the living. I traveled to Yerushalayim and went straight to the funeral home in Sanhedria. I walked in and saw my mother on a stretcher, covered with a white sheet.  (This is not the way it’s done in other countries.) Though normally not one given to crying, I couldn’t hold back my tears and I cried bitterly.

Then at the cemetery, at the kever of Rav Aryeh Levin, the tzaddik of Yerushalayim, I noticed something beautiful, something that helped me come to terms with my grief. Rav Levin had written in his will that his headstone should read:

 אני מאמין באמונה שלמה שתהיה תחית המתים בעת שיעלה רצון מאת הבורא יתברך שמו, ויתעלה זכרו לעד ולנצח נצחים — I believe with complete faith that there will be a resurrection of the dead whenever the wish emanates from the Creator, Blessed is His Name, and exalted is His mention forever and all eternity.

At first, I wondered: Why did Rav Levin do that? Then I understood that he wanted to let us all know that death is nothing more than taking off one’s coat when it is no longer necessary. We remove our body, but the neshamah always remains. And it will return to its body one day. In fact, these words used to be embroidered on the veils of the deceased.

When I saw this, I realized that this — the petirah of my mother — is only a temporary separation. For now, her guf is leaving us. But that which is inside, the neshamah, is what really matters. And one day, we will be reunited.

“This gave me enormous nechamah,” Rav Tehillah concluded.

As it must have given all those affected by Michal Mor’s tragic petirah.

We believe there will be techiyas hameisim, as we believe in the rest of the Ani Maamins, including the coming of Mashiach and that Hashem runs the world.

Yet we are inundated with pictures and videos and clips, all of which are aimed to make us lose our belief.

Our emunah tells us: Close your eyes in order to believe. For as you look at these images, you try to make sense of what you see. But it doesn’t make sense — and it never will, ad biyas hagoel.

On the other hand, if we strengthen our emunah, our tefillah, our Tehillim, our chesed, our limud Torah, our tzedakah, our redifas shalom, our ahavas Yisrael, then we can bring an end to all the tzaros, and herald the geulah and, eventually, the era of techiyas hameisim.

Yidden, chazak ve’ematz! Be strong!

The Ribbono shel Olam is with us.

Hinei lo yanum ve’lo yishan Shomer Yisrael.