This past Tuesday, we marked the yahrzeit of the six beautiful souls who were murdered by Hamas terrorists after they had survived nearly a year of horrific conditions in captivity: Or Danino, Carmel Gat, Hersh Goldberg-Polin, Alex Lubanov, Almog Sarusi, and Eden Yerushalmi. The loss of these precious souls is felt deeply across Israel and the Jewish world.
Reflecting on how they are responding to their grief, Hersh’s family invited others to do something in honor of this first yahrtzeit: “to make our complicated world better… It can be something big or small, quiet or loud, private or public. Do it in memory of the Beautiful Six, including our Hersh. May his memory be a revolution… for goodness.”
I’m sure many of us remember exactly where we were when we heard about their deaths. I was at a bar mitzvah celebration, rejoicing in the simcha of a young man and his family whom I’d known since he was a small child, when the news of the murders, which had occurred two days earlier, were officially “released for publication” by Israeli authorities. My middle daughter, Ariela, came to me with tears in her eyes and said, “Hersh is dead.”
We drove home in silence. Heartbroken. Shattered.
A year has passed but the nightmare of this terrible war continues. We pray every day for the return of our sisters and brothers, for the end of the war, for our deepest wish—and one that I have to believe is shared by all decent people of good will throughout the world—a time evoked by the Hebrew expression one hears so often today in Israel, “b’sorot tovot,” good tidings.
In the midst of our mourning, this week’s haftarah from Isaiah offers words of consolation. The prophet reminds us that even in some distant time when the mountains depart and the hills are removed, our relationship with God endures: “my steadfast love shall not depart from you, and my covenant of peace shall not be removed” (Isaiah 54:10).
So it is with those we love who are here no more. Years may pass but our love endures. Their bodies return to the earth but their memories can be blessings forever—if we make them so in the way we live our lives.
May their memories be for blessings. May their lives inspire us to act with compassion, to work tirelessly for peace, and to hold fast to hope. And may the words of Isaiah strengthen us to believe in God’s enduring love, in a future where life and dignity are cherished for and by all, and in the day when b’sorot tovot, good tidings, are all we hear.
Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Yoshi