A mother’s prayer
Perhaps it was the timing of coming together in these post-October 7 days.
Perhaps it was an escape from all the protests that seem to want to besmirch or obliterate our Jewish identities.
Perhaps it was the complicated vibe of Yom Hazikaron (Israel’s memorial day) and Yom Ha’atzmaut (Israel’s independence day) juxtapositioned back to back, and our desire to connect to that vibe from afar.
Perhaps it was that so many of us were without our mothers, either because of distance or loss, or without children.
Perhaps it was because a young Jewish mother was sitting in front of us on this Mother’s Day morning, having left three of her children overseas, singing to her husband who sat across from her and to us, needing to open her heart and share her music about parents and children and wanting to feel safe in a place she calls home and loving the land and all its problems and wanting no war and wanting her husband to return safely from reserves and believing in peace and needing to spread word about the power of love.
Whatever the reason, what started out in concept as an opportunity to acknowledge Israel’s two days of remembrance and gratitude during this uniquely complicated time was instantaneously transformed into a holy moment. We could not have anticipated the flood of emotion, the sense of hearts opening in our midst, the tear-streaked and smiling faces from the moment Yoni and Nina (“Yonina”) began to sing Al Kol Eleh (“For all these things, watch over me my good Lord, for the honey and the thorn, for the bitter and the sweet”). What might have been a forty-five minute singalong of Israel songs became a timeless ritual of holding our collective breath, inhaling deeply with a sense of wonder, awe and reverence for it all, and then exhaling the exhaustion, anxiety and sadness, only to repeat the exercise with each song.
Yoni and Nina came to us with Rabbi Hersh’s urging early in the spring of 2020. They performed via Zoom monthly on Friday morning to help us connect heading into Shabbat in a time when we could not yet gather physically. Their music, for many of us, has continued to feed us, uplift us, connect us. While we felt this personal appearance was a homecoming for them of sorts, I know they felt the conflict of being away from their one home, their parents, and their children.
For ninety perfect minutes, with the help of their music, lyrics and heartfelt stories, we ascended together out of the time and space that restricts us. We were all home with one another, all connected to our mothers and fathers, all feeling the love we give away coming back to us, all absorbing the resilience and hope shared by these two loving artists.
In their song Melaketet kochavim (“collecting stars”), Nina and Yoni sing to each other from afar, a mother caring for children and home, a father fighting a war, both hoping to reunite safely and soon, holding onto hope that their dreams will soon be realized:
So now I am gathering all of my strength
of kindness, and of faith
that good days are yet to come
that the songs of joy will return to us
and I hug the children tightly
to protect from the storms outside
and in all the craziness
under black skies
I gather stars
Inhale. Read the words and hear the song. Exhale. Repeat.
Happy 76th birthday, Israel. May this year be better than the last, one in which your children’s dreams come true, one in which your hope is realized.
Rabbi Craig Scheff
Remember to rejoice
Israel gives Memorial Day it’s due.
Yom Hazikaron, Israeli society’s day to remember it’s fallen soldiers and those lives lost to terrorist attacks, weighs heavily on Israel’s communal heart. As the sun goes down on the day, however, a switch is flipped, and an unbridled joy sweeps across the country. Riding a wave of relief, young and old take to the streets to sing and dance, that same communal heart racing to celebrate Yom Ha’atzmaut, Israel’s independence day.
In Israel, our six degrees of separation are reduced to two. Everyone knows someone who has experienced the personal loss of a family member, friend or acquaintance to war or terror. So while the community shifts into celebration mode, many individuals remain clenched in the pain and sadness of the national day of mourning. And those who are dancing know that some among their friends can’t bring themselves to do so. Still, the memorial day adds meaning and purpose to the independence day that follows. It is the broken glass at the wedding. The joy of the second is an informed joy, and the loss remembered is appreciated for what it has made possible. The losses have not been in vain; the sacrifices are not unnoticed or unappreciated. Sadly, Yom Hazikaron is the silver platter upon which Yom Haatzmaut is served, and the platter needs to gleam freshly polished if the main dish is to be enjoyed.
I wonder what these two days will look like when Israel is 340 years old. Will we still be reading names of fallen soldiers and victims of terrorism before celebrating Jewish sovereignty, or will Israel have achieved six degrees of separation from the suffering? And what might that look like? Could Israel’s national days become back to back days for barbecuing and hitting the malls for sales? Somehow, I don’t think so. I imagine that even, God willing, when there are no fresh names to read, and the thousands who have died in sacrifice are generations in the past, the proximity of these two days will carry the same impact as the moment “If I forget you, Jerusalem, let my right hand wither” is recited under the chuppah.
If you’ve ever come to our synagogue, you’ve passed by the Camp Shanks memorial, a site erected in honor of those soldiers who passed through Camp Shanks on their way to Europe in World War II. I see it every day of my life (except sick days or a rainy Shabbat). It is a powerful reminder that even a country without enemies on its borders has endured loss and has demanded sacrifice, which all too often go unappreciated. I don’t know how many years 9/11 will continue to be remembered by so many of us as a day of solemn assembly. I don’t think that the degrees of separation from personal loss should diminish the respect and appreciation we show for the sacrifices that have assured our freedoms.
This year, at 9:45am on Memorial Day, immediately following an 8:45am morning service at which a memorial prayer will be recited as part of our Torah service, I will walk down the street to stand at the Walkway of American Heroes. I will be surrounded by veterans and families of veterans, by those who have known loss and those who have known service, by local community members who make remembrance a part of their joy. I hope I will be surrounded by you.
Rabbi Craig Scheff
Two Rabbis, One Voice, Three Opinions 
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