The news this week was shattering...I'm sure you saw the footage of the tragedy in Toulouse....a young Rabbi and his two sons gunned down outside a Jewish school along with the daughter of the school's principal. It is hard to make sense of deaths caused by baseless hatred; it is difficult to try to find comfort in the face of such darkness. Yet, oddly enough, it is often at our darkest times that we strive to embrace the light.
Today is Rosh Hodesh. If you look outside when its night, there is no moon, yet we know that in just 14 days, a great light will fill the night sky. The moon will be full and we will celebrate, Pesach, the holiday that celebrates our redemption from bondage in Egypt. When we celebrate Rosh Hodesh, each month, we recite the Hallel service, thanking G-d for sustaining us even through our most troubling of times. We proclaim that we "called to G-d from the straits and He answered us with expansiveness." We pronounce that "G-d is with us so we can face our foes." At a time when we are surrounded by darkness, we proclaim our understanding that there is light to be found, by remaining faithful to G-d and maintaining our hope for a future redemption.
How can we talk about the light that follows our darkest periods...about promised redemption? Isn't it more natural to talk about alleviating our despair by inflicting pain upon those who choose to kill Jewish children for no reason other than the mere fact that they are Jewish? As you know, this is not the Jewish response to tragedy and darkness. Our tendency is to bring increased light to the world. I want to share "A Heartfelt Plea for Increased Light by Mrs. Chava (Eva) Sandler of Toulouse." She wrote:
"My heart is broken. I am unable to speak. There are no ways for me to be able to express the great and all-consuming pain resulting from the murder of my dear husband Rabbi Jonathan and our sons, Aryeh and Gavriel, and of Miriam Monsonego, daughter of the dedicated principal of Ozar Hatorah and his wife, Rabbi Yaakov and Mrs. Monsonego.
May no one ever have to endure such pain and suffering.
Because so many of you, my cherished brothers and sisters in France and around the world, are asking what you can do on my behalf, on behalf of my daughter Liora and on behalf of the souls of my dear husband and children, I feel that, difficult though it may be, it is incumbent upon me to answer your entreaties.
My husband’s life was dedicated to teaching Torah. We moved back to the country of his birth to help young people learn about the beauty of Torah. He was truly a good man, loving, giving, and selfless. He was sensitive to all of G-d’s creatures, always searching for ways to reveal the goodness in others.
He and I raised Aryeh and Gavriel to live the ways of Torah. Who would have known how short would be their time on this Earth, how short would be the time I would be with them as their mother?
I don’t know how I and my husband’s parents and sister will find the consolation and strength to carry on, but I know that the ways of G-d are good, and He will reveal the path and give us the strength to continue. I know that their holy souls will remain with us forever, and I know that very soon the time will come when we will be together again with the coming of Moshiach.
I wholeheartedly believe in the words of the verse: “The L-ord has given, and the L-ord has taken away; blessed be the Name of the L-ord.” I thank the Almighty for the privilege, short though it was, of raising my children together with my husband. Now the Almighty wants them back with Him.
To all those who wish to bring consolation to our family and contentment to the souls of the departed: Let’s continue their lives on this Earth.
Parents, please kiss your children. Tell them how much you love them, and how dear it is to your heart that they be living examples of our Torah, imbued with the fear of Heaven and with love of their fellow man.
Please increase your study of Torah, whether on your own or with your family and friends. Help others who may find study difficult to achieve alone.
Please bring more light into the world by kindling the Sabbath candles this and every Friday night. (Please do so a bit earlier than the published times as a way to add holiness to our world.)
The holiday of Passover is approaching. Please invite another person into your homes so that all have a place at a Seder to celebrate the holiday of our freedom.
Along with our tearful remembrance of our trials in Egypt so many years ago, we still tell over how “in each and every generation, they have stood against us to destroy us.” We all will announce in a loud and clear voice: “G-d saves us from their hands.”
The spirit of the Jewish people can never be extinguished; its connection with Torah and its commandments can never be destroyed.
May it be G-d’s will that from this moment on, we will all only know happiness.
I send my heartfelt condolences to the Monsonego family for the loss of their daughter Miriam, and I pray for the speedy recovery of Aharon ben Leah, who was injured in the attack.
Thank you for your support and love."
These are the words of a woman whose righteous acts and world view are based on her devotion to G-d and a life of Torah. Even in the midst of her own loss, she understands the true impact and meaning of the words, "I am Jewish."
There is a song that Peter Yarrow wrote in 1983 called Light One Candle. Although it was written as a song for Chanukah, I feel it's message is one that applies to our understanding of what it means to be a Jew. The words are as follows:
Light one candle for the Maccabee children
With thanks that their light didn't die
Light one candle for the pain they endured
When their right to exist was denied
Light one candle for the terrible sacrifice
Justice and freedom demand
But light one candle for the wisdom to know
When the peacemaker's time is at hand
Don't let the light go out!
It's lasted for so many years!
Don't let the light go out!
Let it shine through our love and our tears.
....
What is the memory that's valued so highly
That we keep it alive in that flame?
What's the commitment to those who have died
When we cry out, "They've not died in vain!"
We have come this far always believing
That justice would somehow prevail
This is the burden, this is the promise
This is why we will not fail!
Don't let the light go out!
Don't let the light go out!
Don't let the light go out!
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