July 3, 2014  / 5 Tammuz,  5774

Monday, June 30, 2014 was one of the saddest days of my adult life.

We, a united community of Jews, had invested our hopes, our prayers, all in the spirit of support for three families whose precious sons did not make it home from Yeshiva 18 days earlier.  In the absence of any earthly power that might force their safe return, we turned to spirituality.  Even the “non-believers” among us signed on to the strategy of Jewish solidarity in response to a cruel act of anti-Semitism.

And, in consequence, our worst fears came true, beginning with the discovery of their bodies and continuing with the hypothesis that they had been gone from this world after a mere hour (or less) of their being kidnapped.  Our persistence in holding out for signs of life was answered with death.  The letdown was unbearable, mostly because technology and social media enabled us to feel close to Naftali, Gilad and Eyal, to view them as one of our own family, and to arrive at a kinship with their respective loved ones.

I have pored through dozens of thoughtful (and some not so thoughtful) responses to the tragic deaths of, in the hopes of finding some note of consolation, some shred of sensibility.  And while many arguments have been compelling, I continue to be hardened in my conclusion that this is the new reality:  those who value and sanctify life find themselves in a constant battle with those for whom blood is cheap.

My one consolation is that, in the throes of our waiting for closure, we came together.  If only we could perpetuate that sense of wholeness, in the other endeavors of our mission as Jews.  Can we rise above the divide between extreme positions to maintain openness to each other's importance?  Are we able to hold in our minds the snapshots of how we made peace within when a broader peace had failed?  And, do we care enough about what is happening outside of our comfort zones to stretch ourselves in advocacy of all those living in Israel's vicinity who share our sanctification of life?

May we live to see not only happier days, but prouder times for all of God's children.