A Most Important Protest in Jerusalem
Auschwitz was not meant to forge alliances between its survivors. Then came October 7th, perhaps the first time in Jewish history when people en masse risked their lives to save other Jews.
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This is a guest essay written by Linda Hirschel, a writer who moved to Israel 30 years ago, of Certified Jewish Mother.
You can also listen to the podcast version of this essay on Apple Podcasts, YouTube Music, YouTube, and Spotify.
This week there was a small group of people whom no one noticed, walking, protesting in Jerusalem.
I am not talking about the usual Saturday night protests of the frustrated and angry demonstrators who receive so much attention.
I am speaking about a group of 200 people, Nova Music Festival survivors and the families of hostages, who immersed themselves in music for the soul, then, as One People, walked to the Kotel, the Western Wall — the stone wall that has absorbed oceans of salt water. They cried and they protested to Hashem.
Rabbi Yisrael Goldwasser has gotten to know many hostage families and Nova Music Festival survivors. They have been together for a number of Shabbats at hotels. These people cannot depend on anyone — not on the generals, not on the government. Not on Bibi or Biden. The Smart Fence on the border was dumb. There is nothing and no one to lean on. Rabbi Goldwasser found out that people who have despaired of everyone and everything, ultimately begin to depend on God.
Although the story of Israeli-American hostage Hersh Goldberg-Polin ultimately came to a tragic denouement, I still quote his mother Rachel Goldberg-Polin, from when I heard her on the 128th day of the war:
“…the answer is from HaKadosh Baruch Hu—God. Period! … It’s simply that I don’t know what the vessel will be. So we run to the ends of the earth as if it will be … the actions. But I know, and you know, that it will come from Hashem, from God. So yes, I go and I meet with presidents, and I go and I speak at the UN, and I go and I meet with the Pope … But I know that it comes from Hashem.”
Meirav Berger speaks about her daughter Agam. Omer’s mother, Sheli Shem Tov, also speaks. To me, this is the big story that is happening in Israel.
Agam Berger told her Arab captor, for whom she was forced to cook: “I’m a Jewish girl. I don’t light fires on the Jewish Sabbath.” This was reported to her family from Agam Goldstein, who was with Agam Berger and released in the hostages-for-ceasefire deal last November. Agam Berger studied in secular schools. Where did she get this superpower from?
Agam has a unique aura to her, as friends and family have described. If Agam Berger is praying and saying blessings over food, and risking her life to observe Shabbat in the bowels of Gaza, well, her family said, we can do that as well (although her mother had begun keeping Shabbat some months before October 7th). And thousands have followed suit, according to Rabbi Goldwasser.
Omer’s mother has kept Shabbat in all of its details for the last five months, since she heard about Omer. Omer and Itay Regev, who subsequently was released, received a bottle of grape juice from their captors. Omer saved the bottle for Friday night and would make the blessing on grape juice for the Sabbath, using the cap as a cup. If Omer is trying his best to keep Jewish law in Gaza, in captivity, then surely, his mother says, she can keep Shabbat in freedom.
Four million women are lighting candles for the Sabbath, since October 7th.
The history of the Jewish Nation is replete with self-sacrifice. In the time of the ancient Greeks, we know that the Jews were not allowed to observe the Sabbath, announce the new month, perform brit mila — circumcision — and a host of other practices which Jews literally gave their lives to keep.
During the Roman period, Jews were forbidden to learn Torah, wear tefillin (phylacteries), and practice other commandments. During the Crusades, Jews chose to die rather than convert. In the time of the Inquisition, Jews were tortured or burnt at the stake for keeping Jewish practices.
Across the ghettos and the concentration camps, there are stories of Jews learning Torah secretly and smuggling in a shofar to hear on Rosh Hashanah. There are stories of Jews in Auschwitz who had a part of a tefillin set: Jews would stand in line, hurriedly put on the tefillin, say the Shema Yisrael prayer, and give the tefillin to the next person in line. In the Soviet Union, Jews who sat in a sukkah during the holiday of Sukkot were sent to Siberia. There were Jews who kept the Sabbath, figuring out a way to keep their children home on Saturday.
Throughout the ages, Jews have literally given their lives to keep Jewish practices. In all of these time periods there was one thing in common: These practices mainly involved the commandments between God and the individual. There was never a time when Jews together, in large numbers, have sacrificed their lives to save other Jews (although I am sure there have always been individuals).
One person said to Rabbi Goldwasser: “When we came out of Auschwitz, we should have been best friends because we all were in the same boat.” The Nazis actually caused division between Jews. They arranged it so that some Jews had to steal from each other to survive; they put Jewish kapos over other Jews, Polish over Hungarians, secular over ultra-Orthodox.
The “University of Auschwitz” was not meant to forge alliances between its “graduates.”
Then came October 7th, perhaps the first time in Jewish history when people en masse risked their lives to save other Jews.
There are stories upon stories of individuals who risked their lives: people who fought on the kibbutzim, sometimes to the death, ambulance drivers, the nurse in the clinic, Anar Shapiro in the “safe room” who caught six grenades and threw them back outside towards the terrorists, until the seventh one…
Out of the more than 1,200 who were murdered that day, at least 300 lost their lives saving other people. Ten of the hostages (out of the original 250) are there because they risked their lives saving others.
And at the Nova Music Festival itself, Eitan Mor could be having dinner with his family today. But he was at the festival and stuffed his Jeep with eight-to-10 people, saving them. Then he went in again. And again, each time saving eight or 10 people. The fourth time that Eitan went in to save more people, he was taken hostage.
Rom Boslovsky was a security guard. He could have run away. Instead, he stayed to help others. He was taken hostage.
One girl reports that someone came and bandaged her and told her to play dead. She saw that he was immediately shot and captured.
Bar is a medic. His father is also a medic. While bullets were flying and atrocities were taking place around him, Bar called his father to ask for instructions on how to take care of various wounds on victims. He was taken hostage.
They should all come back, healthy in body and in mind.
Rabbi Goldwasser related this story: Shosh and her boyfriend lived together. (Rabbi Goldwasser did not happen to mention the name of her partner. I will call him Yehudi.) Shosh had begun observing Shabbat awhile before. Her partner wanted to go to the party. He begged her to come.
“You go ahead and have fun, but I’m staying home.”
(Shosh cried while Yehudi told the story to Rabbi Goldwasser.)
The missiles start flying at 6:30 on that horrific morning. Yehudi crawled under a car to hide, but the car drove away. He then hid in the grass until he realized that terrorists were lighting the grass on fire. He began to run amongst the bullets, until he realized that he was running toward Gaza. No alternative. He climbed a tree (and said that he came back weeks later but was unable to climb the same tree).
Yehudi told Rabbi Goldwasser, “Look at this miracle: At 6:25 I was a little cold so I put on a light jacket. A green jacket…” — green, the exact color of the tree he was hiding in. Yehudi had one problem, though: He was wearing white shoes. If he threw the shoes down, the terrorists would look up to see who had thrown them down. He had to hide the white shoes, so he folded his legs so that his shoes could not be seen. He stayed that way for eight hours.
He sent his location on his phone, and his friends begged the army personnel to go in and save him. They could not because it was a total war zone.
Meanwhile, in the Israeli city of Kfar Saba (about 40 kilometers northeast of Tel Aviv), Shosh heard what was happening. She ran to Meir Hospital, into the synagogue, and began to recite Psalms. She stayed there from 10:00 in the morning until 1:00 in the afternoon, finishing the Book of Psalms. She went outside. Yehudi was still there, still sending his location. She went back inside to say more Psalms, praying desperately. There was nothing else she can do.
Finally, one of Yehudi’s friends said to the soldiers: “I don’t care, I’m going in.” Two soldiers agreed to go with him, all of them risking their lives. Yehudi sent one more message from the tree, and then his phone battery died. It was 4:30 in the afternoon.
Shosh finished another Book of Psalms and then went outside. It was 4:30 in the afternoon.
The car with Yehudi’s friend and the soldiers drove under his tree at 4:31. He had no way of alerting them because his phone was dead. As they started driving away, Yehudi jumped out of the tree. They saw him running towards them, but did not quite recognize him.
“Say Shema Yisrael!” they shouted from a distance.
“Shema Yisrael Hashem Elokeinu Hashem Echad!” he shouted — and then jumped into the car.
From out of the bushes they heard: “Shema Yisrael Hashem Elokeinu Hashem Echad.” Four more people ran out of the bushes to be saved.
While Yehudi was perched in the tree, he witnessed terrorists coming back and forth from Gaza, capturing hostages and committing other atrocities. He thought to himself: “If I die, there will be nothing left of me.” He took it upon himself to get married to Shosh and raise a Jewish family. And he took it upon himself to observe the Sabbath.
These people, our People, survivors and those who lost their lives, have shown us in real-time what true unity is. They risked their lives for it.
So that is what the protest was all about that night, at the Western Wall, in the holy city of Jerusalem.
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No words, just tears. Shabbat Shalom
Such sadness! I’m moved to tears. Never were there a people that have been so persecuted. I have to say Fight on!!!