by David M. Weinberg
So it turns out that
the families of Naftali Frenkel, Gil-ad Shaer and Eyal Yifrach knew
almost from the beginning of this ordeal that one or two of the three
boys were likely to have been killed in the course of the kidnapping on
June 12.
There were gunshots on
the recording of the SOS call made by Gil-ad, which was played for the
families. There were bullet casings and blood found in the burnt shell
of the getaway car, and the families were told this too.
They were told that the lack of demands from the kidnappers was a sign that the boys might no longer be alive.
And yet all three
families exuded optimism, faith and positive energy for 18 long days.
They went before camera and after camera, reporter after reporter,
concert after concert, and prayer assembly after prayer assembly, and
asserted their confidence that just a bit more effort could bring a
positive result. They met every youth group, every foreign diplomat,
every U.N. assembly, every IDF commander they could, thanking everybody
for their efforts, in their upbeat, affirming and unassuming way.
What amazing people!
What noble people! How they raised the spirits of an entire nation;
united an entire nation; comforted an entire nation!
They taught us how to
harness all our temporal powers to drive towards a national goal in
unison. They taught us all what it means to believe in powers greater
than our own.
Perhaps the most
profound thought uttered over the past three weeks was expressed by
Racheli Frenkel at the Western Wall last week. In a clip shown on
Israeli television, and seen I think by just about every person in this
country, Mrs. Frenkel is approached at the Wall by a group of very young
girls who want to wish her well.
Instead, Mrs. Frenkel
bends down to them and offers theological reassurance and warm wisdom.
"I want you to promise me," she softly says, "that no matter what
happens, you won't be crushed or broken. That you won't lose faith.
After all, we must remember that G-d isn't our 'employee.' He doesn't
always do as we wish."
With these crushingly
humble words, Racheli Frenkel captured the hearts of an entire nation.
Her words resounded through every living room and every workplace.
People repeated them, reflected upon them, debated them. Agree or
disagree, nobody could deny her strength of spirit. Nobody could avoid
being awestruck at her clear-sightedness; at her breathtaking display of
faith within realism.
As I stood at midnight
last night outside the Frenkel home (down the street from my home in Nof
Ayalon), Naftali's uncle Yishai Frenkel shared with me that behind the
mask of embarrassed smiles and sunny demeanor we saw on our television
screens, Racheli Frenkel was being torn apart. "Inside the house, she
doesn't smile. Inside the house, inside her soul, she is dealing with a
great personal burden of pain. And of course, she must simultaneously be
mother to her other children. She may be a superwoman, but she has no
supernatural powers. She says that she draws strength from the people of
Israel; from the outpouring of care and prayer that has come from all
corners of the Jewish world."
Such modesty aside, I
feel that Mrs. Frenkel and the other five now-bereaved parents modeled
for us not just indomitable personal character. They modeled for us
spiritual strength; a healthy blend of religious devotion and
rationality. Of this-worldness and other-worldness. Of pragmatism and
values. Of self-interest and selflessness. Of coolly calculated tactics
and naturally-flowing love.
They gave Israelis a
model for religious commitment, national unity and brotherly love not
only in times of crisis but also in everyday life; throughout all
regular seasons of our rough-and-tumble spiritual-social-political life.
For this, we are in their debt.
David M. Weinberg
Source: http://www.israelhayom.com/site/newsletter_opinion.php?id=8937
Copyright - Original materials copyright (c) by the authors.
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