Thursday: July 27, 2006
News that more than 24 soldiers were injured in yesterday’s terrible battle in Bint Jbail that cost 8 Israeli lives, compelled us to return to Haifa’s Rambam Hospital this morning.
On the way, Rabbi David Fendel, head of the hesder yeshiva in Sderot called to tell us that four of his students were amongst the injured. He arranged that the father of Ohad, one of the wounded soldiers would meet us in the lobby. As had now become his custom, Dr. Jesse Lachter also greeted us and stayed with us throughout our visit.
Someone remarked that the hospital resembled Givati brigade headquarters. So many of these elite unit soldiers were there to visit their wounded comrades. Amongst those we met was Tsachi, who didn’t respond when I spoke to him. Someone sitting nearby told me he had (hopefully temporarily) lost his hearing as a result of the battle. We encountered many Ethiopian soldiers like Avraham and Lior. It was a powerful moment. Throughout the 1970s and 1980s we had been out there in the streets protesting for the freedom of Ethiopian Jews and now we had the privilege of seeing these young Ethiopian soldiers defending Israel and all of the Jewish people.
Aside from the injured soldiers, there were many, many ordinary citizens lying in the wards who had been hurt from Katyusha shrapnel. Amongst them was Yuri, who together with his wife had emigrated from Chechnya. His eyes were sad as he explained how the Katyusha had landed leaving its deadly fragments cut into his skin. At that moment, with tears in his eyes, Yuri told me he wasn’t sure he would live, and he asked for God’s protection, offering the deepest prayer that God watch over him.
The Intensive Care Unit cares for those most seriously injured. We spent some time just outside the doors of the unit speaking to families of soldiers being treated. Amongst them was Moshe and Penina, whose son, a helicopter pilot was injured a few days ago in an incident that killed his co-pilot. According to his parents, B (the IDF does not allow pilots to be identified) had every bone in his body broken. They pointed to several young men sitting nearby. “These are other pilots who between bombing runs come running to the hospital to inquire about our son’s welfare.”
Everywhere we saw the support from the activists of Vaad L’maan Hachayal (Committee for the Welfare of Soldiers) and many other volunteer organizations who came with gifts and flowers for the wounded.
From Rambam we traveled to Eli in the Shomron to attend the funeral of Amichai Merchavia, 24. The crying and wailing pierced our hearts. Rabbi Eli Sadan who heads B’nai David, an extraordinary yeshiva in Eli where Amichai studied, spoke about the name Amichai—my people lives. Rav Sadan told the hundreds of mourners that this young man lived and died so that his people live. Still another rabbi quoted the sentence from Psalms: “From the straits I call upon you, O Lord, answer me by giving us relief.” The Hebrew verb to give relief is Amichai’s last name, Merchav ka. Although Amichai’s death is so painful, his legacy and his family will in the end transform the darkness to light.
There were other more political expressions of grief. One speaker recalled that Amichai had written the army chief of staff last year expressing understanding for the motives of soldiers who refused to take part in the Gaza pullout. Halutz responded by suspending Amichai for a year, but Amichai was resinstated after he begged to be allowed back into the army so he could fight the present war.
Still another of those who eulogized Amichai proclaimed a phrase used often by the right in recent years: “The eternal nation is not afraid of a long war.” Finally, on a more personal level, a friend sobbed uncontrollably as he cried aloud, “Amichai, you won’t be at the wedding of your sister that takes place in two weeks.”
What struck me is that at this funeral the vast majority of mourners were from the political right. And yet those on the left, like Jesse Lachter and so many others I’d met up north who did not share the same political views, expressed the same fears and the same sorrow at the many losses.
As Amichai’s body was taken to the cemetery from the simple central synagogue in Eli where the funeral took place, he was followed by his parents Moshe and Tova. Such an unnatural sight, when parents accompany their child to his burial place. His body was placed into an open army vehicle, draped with an Israeli flag. Three soldiers sat on each side, motionless, with great dignity and tremendous respect. When Amichai’s father learned that I’m a rabbi from New York representing Jews who stand with him, he fell on my shoulders as we both cried.
Hundreds of mourners walked behind Moshe and Tova and their remaining nine children to the cemetery. Moshe was the last one to give a eulogy for Amichai. “The hurt is so deep,” he said. “ I’ve lost my son but this is the price of our love of the land.”
All over Israel there’s consensus that this war is a fight for Israel’s survival. There’s across the board agreement that this war must be fought and won. With Israel on the front line we must do all we can in our own way to do our share to see to it that our people live and live in the spirit of Amichai.
Over the past seven days, Yonah Berman and I have tried to do our small share to help. Yonah’s presence and assistance have been invaluable. Here’s a young man who will graduate and receive smicha next year from Yeshivat Chovevei Torah. I saw from his work here under extremely difficult conditions, that Yonah combines pastoral sensitivity with an empathetic ability.
The first stop on our mission was the funeral of Benjy Hillman, we had no idea that one week later our last stop would be at the funeral of another young Israeli hero, Amichai Merchavia. The name Amichai was mentioned today scores of times at the funeral. Each time, I could only think of our youngest grandson, Amichai, born just a few weeks ago in Jerusalem as well as another grandson in New Jersey named Yair Amichai. Amichai Merchavia gave his life so our grandson and all of our grandchildren and children may live.
I find it so hard to leave Israel; I so much want to stay, to be with my people. As I walk through the airport lounge it’s as if there’s a magnet pulling me back. Israel is our land, and Am Yisrael our people. The destiny of the Jewish people is unfolding here in the Jewish state where we are sovereign.
We are physically, psychologically and emotionally exhausted after this week of sharing some of the experiences of war weary Israelis in the north and south. We’ll need time to process it all. From these feelings we have a tiny, tiny glimpse of the extraordinary pressure and difficulties the soldiers and those living in the bunkers and the wounded and their families are going through.
In one week we saw so much pain, so much death, suffering and anguish, yet there is also so much resolve and so much life.
Amichai. My People Lives.
Introduction: Diary Of Rabbi Avi Weiss' Week Long Trip In Israel
Day 1: Arrival in Tsfat
Day 2: Shabbat in Tsfat
Day 3: Haifa
Day 4: Tiberias and Nahariya
Day 5: Tsfat and Raanana
Day 6: Sderot, Kiryat Gat and Jerusalem
Day 7: Haifa and The Shomron
Diary of Rabbi Avi Weiss' Return Trip To Israel--Following the Ceasefire
Technorati Tag: Israel.
No comments:
Post a Comment