Shaarei Shamayim
1600 Mount Mariah
Atlanta, GA 30329
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PESACH 7th DAY 5785 Rejoice With Trembling Today is the 7th day of Passover when we commemorate the miraculous event that concludes the Exodus. So long as the Egyptian army was still intact, even though the Jewish people left Egypt, they still felt the threat of the Egyptian army and Pharaoh. The splitting of the sea and seeing the subsequent drowning of the Egyptian army brought that to a culmination. That’s why the Jewish people broke out in song at the Red Sea and Not when they left Egypt. So, today we must rejoice! However, we are now more than 560 days in a seemingly endless war with Hamas, and by proxy, with Iran. 59 hostages are still being held—at least 24 presumed alive. We are gripped with anxiety, fear and worry for our fellow Jews. And with all that sadness, it’s still Passover and with it the mitzvah: V’samachta b’chagecha (You shall rejoice on your festival). How do we deal with this contradiction of on the one hand, our sadness since October 7th, and on the other hand, Gd commanding us to be joyous? King David tells us in Psalm 2:11: Gilu bir’ada (Rejoice while there is trembling). King David was saying that we Jews know how to laugh simultaneously. It’s been a part of our journey throughout Jewish history. In my 1st congregation in Margate City, NJ, there was a barber whose name was Hirschel who cut my hair for the almost 10 years that I was there. You couldn’t help but notice the tattooed numbers on his arm, for he was a Holocaust survivor. He would often talk about what it was like in the concentration camps, how he saved his life by being a barber and what it what it felt like for him to be forced to cut the hair of the Gestapo and SS that murdered his mother, father, his brothers, sisters, cousins, uncles and aunts. Yet, that was the only way he could survive. Once I called for an appointment with no answer and no return call. I kept calling, but I began to worry. Eventually, after 3 weeks he picked up the phone. “Where were you,” I asked. It was right before Passover, and I knew the days I could cut my hair between Passover and Shavuot we limited. My hair was already looking like Samson. I made an appointment and once there I asked again, “Hirschel, where were you?” He said, “I finally went.” “Where did you go?” “I went to Eretz Yisrael for the 1st time in my life. You know, a strange emotion came over me. Wherever I went, I started crying. Whatever I saw, I started crying. I saw an Israeli soldier holding a gun defending our land, I started crying. [Can you imagine the flashbacks he had of Nazis with guns over Jews.] I saw the Kotel—the Western Wall—I started crying. Whatever I saw, I started crying.”
Try to think from his perspective what these tears represented. Were they tears of sadness … or tears of joy … or both? Gilu bir’ada (Rejoice while there is trembling). The emotion from what he experienced from the Nazis was there; the emotion of what he missed from his parents’ home was there. But at the same time, he’s laughing, rejoicing that the Jewish people now have their own land, and that Jews are the best soldiers in its defense. We Jews have this remarkable spiritual schizophrenia: we can cry, and we laugh at the same time. A number of years ago the Polish government held an event to commemorate the 85th anniversary of the Polish Air Force. No, this is NOT a Polish joke. It happened. Poland invited many countries to come with jets from their own air forces. The Israeli Air Force agreed to send some of their F-16s to join in the celebration on the condition that they be allowed to fly over the Auschwitz concentration camp. The curators of the Auschwitz museum refused, but the government overruled them. On that incredible day, this contingent of Israeli F-16s—proudly displaying the Star of David o their wings—each piloted by grandchildren and greatgrandchildren of Auschwitz survivors—took off towards the sacred and sorrowful resting place of their grandparents. In the cockpits, the crew members carried with them the names of all those recorded murdered in Auschwitz. The F-16s flew towards Auschwitz as slowly as possible, following the railroad tracks leading to the crematoriums. As soon as they made their way over the gas chambers, they peeled straight up with this loud and mighty roar to make a statement: “It’s a new day for the Jewish people. No more will we go like lambs to the slaughter!” I’m sure as they flew over the graves of their parents and grandparents they cried bitter tears. But amidst their tears, they laughed a roaring laugh: “You Nazis tried to destroy us, but Am Yisrael Chai, the people of Israel live. We have survived, we’re still here.” Last Passover, Hamas hostage Agam Berger marked Pesach in the small, dim room in Gaza where she was being held along with fellow hostage Liri Albag. They made a makeshift Haggadah and decorations from scraps of paper to recount the story of the Exodus from slavery in Egypt. Then they had a gift. On the night of the Seder their door was open and they caught a bit of TV their Arab captors were watching. It showed Israelis setting up a table in Hostage Square in Tel Aviv. Liri listened to her mother’s voice—one o the speakers—on the airwaves. They both cried, then sat down to eat their own “bread of affliction”—corn flour pita, technically not chametz. Hostage Yarden Bibas on last year’s Passover, meanwhile, reminisced from where he was being held captive about the joyful Seders he had with his family—clinging to hope that he would soon be reunited with his wife and children. All 3 were released during the recent ceasefire before Passover. But Bibas, however, returned to the devastating news that his wife and young sons were murdered in captivity. Also last Passover, activist hostage mother, Rachel Goldberg-Polin said: There’s something perverse about even going through the motions of celebrating Passover—our holiday of freedom from captivity—when our only son is not free and is in the worst form of captivity that any of us can imagine. Her son Hersh was killed in captivity last August. Recently Rachel remarked, I think this year there is one question and one question only, which is: Why are the hostages still there? Every Jew understands her pain. The tension in Israel over how many hundreds or thousands of terrorists does Israel need to release in order to get the remaining 24-still-alive hostages is palpable. Besides, as we saw yesterday when Hamas rejected the latest ceasefire/hostage proposal, Hamas is NOT really willing to deal anyway. In the meantime, there have been stunning, historic victories in Gaza that Israel has achieved in recent months. Can we rejoice in these victories while 59 of our people remain hostages? Daniel Rosen suggests in the Jerusalem Post: People often talk about their “values” and urge surrendering the objectives of the war in favor of returning the hostages… However, it is NOT an admirable value to trade the future of the 10 million Israelis living in the Jewish State for that of 59 people. It is in fact illogical. That kind of moral confusion is not compassion, it is chaos! No military, no country, no people has ever sacrificed collective victory for individual pain, not because the individuals don’t matter, but because the welfare of the whole trumps the welfare of the few. Our tradition teaches us to hold two truths at once. We must cry over suffering and celebrate over deliverance. This Passover, let us do both. My friends, today, the 7th day of Passover is a day that celebrates miracles. Let me leave you with a miracle story from October 7th as told by a woman I heard interviewed on Israeli TV this week. I recorded it and translated it, but didn’t catch her name. She said: I and my children were about to be massacred by the Hamas terrorists on the day of the Oct. 7 massacre…I looked through the peephole in the door and saw 6 Hamas terrorists with guns drawn heading for our house. At that moment I looked up to Hashem and said, “Borei Olam (Master of the world), this is not my time to die, I still have not fulfilled my Tikun on this world. “I promise you, that if you save me and my children, I will observe Shabbat fully until the day I leave this world”. The moment I made that promise, I saw with my own eyes how the terrorists just completely skipped over our house! On these last days of Passover, Gilu bir’ada, let us rejoice while trembling—rejoicing over the many miracles Gd has blessed the Jewish people with from the redemption in Egypt to our time … as we tremble with worry, fear and with a prayer for a lasting peace and the release of all the hostages. As Shabbat saved that young Israeli woman and her children from being massacred by Hamas terrorists, may our observance of Shabbat and Jewish life protect us. Amen!
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