Rabbi Meszler 5785 Holiday Sermons

Rabbi Meszler's Words of Inspiration and Comfort for the High Holy Days 5785

Rosh Hashanah
Erev Rosh Hashanah: The Power of Showing Up
Rosh Hashanah Morning 1: The Full Picture

Yom Kippur
Erev Yom Kippur (Kol Nidrei): Rerouting
Yom Kippur:  Eileh Ezkarah & Shiva B’October

Watch YouTube Selections:
Erev Rosh Hashanah Sermon Video
Rosh Hashanah Morning 1 Sermon Video
Kol Nidre Sermon Video
Yom Kippur Eileh Ezkara - October 7 Stories Video

Erev Rosh Hashanah: The Power of Showing Up

   Woody Allen is credited with saying that 80% of life is showing up. In Judaism, it is more like 99%. 
    When I lead a shiva minyan, I usually tell people that it is okay to be nervous or feel awkward. When you come to a house of mourning, you may not know what to say. How could you? But the truth is you don’t need to say anything. Just being there, the gift of your presence, is enough. Showing up is the mitzvah.
    And similarly, it is important that part of the Kaddish is responsive. Other people join in for part of the prayer. They say, “Amen,” and “Y’hei sh’mei rabbah,” and “b’rich hu.” It lets the mourners know that you are there, and you are with them. You may not know what they are really going through, but you are by their side.
    And when people are sick, the mitzvah is bikur cholim - to visit those who are facing illness. When we sing the Mi Shebeirach prayer at Temple Sinai, I occasionally remind the congregation we have blue cards on the side of the room. If you are thinking about someone and praying for them, then please take a card. It has prayers for healing and a space for you to write a message. It functions as a postcard, and you can send it and let them know you were thinking of them. Prayer helps the person who prays; visiting or connecting helps the person who is sick. We cannot cure their ailment, but we can make someone feel less lonely. It brings our community closer together.
    But showing up isn’t just supposed to be part of difficult times. It is also part of celebrating. We are supposed to sing “siman tov u’mazel tov.” It is part of the aufruf or wedding blessing, the wedding itself, and the baby naming. We sing along with. We accompany. We witness. We don’t leave people alone either in their mourning or in their joy. We share it. 
    Sometimes I think we are better at showing up during bad times than good. More than once I have heard at a funeral, “Rabbi, we have to stop meeting like this.” If we as a community feel compelled to show up for Yom HaShoah, Holocaust Remembrance Day, then we should also show up for Sukkot, Simchat Torah, and Yom Ha’Atzma’ut. In fact, during ancient times, one of the sacrifices our ancestors brought during the Festivals was the ra’ayah or “appearance” offering. The Torah says you must appear before God (Deuteronomy 16:16). Today we might call it the “showing up” offering.
    And these Days of Awe are also about showing up. We don’t have to understand all the words or believe every sentence. It is more about being present and letting whatever will happen, happen.
    During the High Holy Days, there are a great deal of responsive readings. We read Avinu Malkeinu back and forth. On Yom Kippur, we do the same thing with Al Chet. And even on a normal Shabbat, there is a call and response with Barchu and Ashrei. The Torah blessings have a call and response as well. We do that to hear each other, to let each other know that we are there. Prayer is not only about talking to God but also about hearing each other’s voices.
     We even mess up together. “Ashamnu - we are guilty; bagadnu - we have rebelled,” and so forth. We confess our sins as a group. We don’t say, “I.” We say “we.” Al chet sh’chatanu l’fanecha - “for the sin we have sinned before You…” Even if I didn’t do a particular sin, as part of a community and a society I am still partially responsible for that transgression. I have enabled a society in which stealing takes place, even if I didn’t do the direct act, actually stealing myself. Kol Yisrael arevim zeh bah zeh - “all Israel are responsible for one another” (Shevuot 39a). 
      In Judaism, all prayer is ideally done in the first person plural. Even if you are alone in your home, you say “we.” Modim anachnu lach - “We give thanks to You.” We are spiritually connected to each other. Prayer is not an act of solitude but a gesture of solidarity.
     And when we are connected online, we are really connected. People at home are able to be a part of the community. More than one person has said that online services have been a lifeline for them. One person once said to me that Zoom brought them back to Temple.
     We also know what it felt like during the pandemic to be isolated from each other. It was incredibly hard. It was not just the physical distance but the challenge to our mental health. As Genesis says, Lo tov heyot ha’adam l’vado - “It is not good for a person to be alone” (Genesis 2:18).
     Up until that time, I didn’t understand a certain saying in the Talmud. The saying is, o chevruta o mituta, which means, “Either friendship or death.” (Ta’anit 23a) I always thought that was a bit over the top, but having lived through Covid, I think I finally get it. We need each other, deeply. Even the loners and introverts among us need people in their lives. 
    In a different way, we also experienced this when a small group of us went to Israel this past March. I am pretty sure we were not flying in because JNF needed our lemon-picking or schnitzel-making skills, even though we did a great deal of that. We were really going to let the Israelis know they were not alone. And they kept telling us that it meant so much to them that we were there. They kept thanking us for coming, that we had no idea how much it meant to them, that in a world that was making them feel increasingly isolated, we came. And we needed to feel like we were in it with them because watching it on our screens without being able to do anything was too much to bear. For both sides, being there was a kind of fulfilled need.
    Rabbi Sharon Brous calls showing up for each other, “The Amen Effect.” When someone says a blessing, you answer “Amen.” You do that to affirm them, to let them know that you are there and you are with them. It says that they are not alone in good times or bad. She calls this “the ritualization of care” and asks, “What would happen in our society and in our hearts if we could see each other in the fullness of our human experiences and actually say Amen…to one another’s pain and one another’s joy and to one another’s love?” 
She continues that human nature is that it is often hard to show up. If you are feeling good about life, you do not necessarily want to take time to stop and bring comfort to someone who is broken-hearted. And if you are hurting, you don’t necessarily even want to get out of bed and show up anywhere. But that is what Jewish tradition asks us to do. When given the choice between showing up or not, Rabbi Brous says we should err on the side of showing up. 
    We live in a world that feels like it is falling apart. No one knows what the future will bring. 
     I do know that what we have is this room, this sanctuary, and we have each other. We are at our best when we show up for one another. That’s how we manifest the divine image. 
Shanah tovah.

Rosh HaShanah Day One: The Full Picture

I was in Atlanta for a friend’s B’not Mitzvah celebration, and Rabbi Zupan and I had time for a walk before we had to go to the airport. We happened upon a group of young demonstrators holding signs. One of the signs read, “Queers for Palestine.” We walked through without engaging. The implied message seemed to be that people discriminated against here can sympathize with Palestinian people there. I assume there were self-aware people in the group, but I confess to having been baffled. To me, they have it exactly backwards. In fact, gay Palestinians are known to flee the West Bank where their identity is a death sentence, and they seek asylum in Israel, where there are annual Pride parades. In any case, wherever the demonstrators got their information, it probably wasn't The Times of Israel. 
    I walked away thinking that this is what the author Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie calls, “The Danger of a Single Story.” She teaches that trying to understand complex issues and identities from only one dimension leads to dangerous misunderstandings. If people only know a single story about a subject, they tend to extrapolate from that one point of reference to everything else. It leads to absurd assumptions, such as when her roommate in an American college asked to hear some of her “tribal music.” Her roommate had a single story about Africans, and Adichie explained that actually English is the official language of Nigeria, and she listens to Mariah Carey. 
    But stories are powerful, and oversimplified, single stories are especially seductive. Taking a page out of Adichie’s book, I worry that anti-Israel demonstrators, to use her words, are “impressionable and vulnerable in the face of a story.” 
    In this vein, there is a midrash or Rabbinic teaching about the nature of truth. The Hebrew word for “truth” is אֱ֭מֶת - emet. Emet is spelled with the first, middle, and last letters of the Hebrew aleph-bet: aleph, mem, and tav. Truth, the Rabbis teach, is all-encompassing. It takes into account all the other letters and their combinations. 
    The Hebrew word for a lie is sheker. Rabbi Elyse Frishman teaches the word sheker is made up of letters found only at the far end of the aleph-bet: shin, kof, and resh. It leans heavily on one side. Not only that, but the letters are out of order, jumbling the aleph-bet’s sequence. A lie is one-sided and mixed up in the telling. 
    We human beings have a hard time seeing the full picture, from aleph to tav, and only God can know the whole truth. People are limited. We have life experience that skews us. We have agendas. We are caught in confirmation bias, stereotypes, echo chambers, and defensiveness. The big picture often makes us feel small. Nevertheless, according to the Rabbis, we have a moral obligation to try to get closer to the truth and see as much of the full picture as we can, both the forest and the trees. 
The Torah
    The Torah, interestingly enough, rarely has just a single story. The story of creation in Genesis 1 is immediately followed by a very different view of creation in Genesis 2. In Genesis 1, an infinite God creates the world in six days beyond time and space and then metaphorically comes to rest on the seventh. In Genesis 2, a very down-to-earth God plants a garden and forms Adam from the dust of the earth. Two very different stories. Was God transcendent, above and beyond, or was God imminent, getting God’s hands dirty in the soil? The answer, the Torah seems to be saying, is both. God is both far and near.
    There are also two versions of the Ten Commandments: one in Exodus and one in Deuteronomy. They are mostly the same but have some significant differences. For instance, in Exodus, we “remember” Shabbat because God rested on the seventh day. In Deuteronomy, we “keep” Shabbat because God freed us from Egypt. In honor of both versions, we light two different Shabbat candles on Friday night.
    The Rabbis continued this tradition. When one would finish, the next would say, davar acher, which means, “another version.” Truth - emet - was achieved by gathering all the commentaries together. 
    I am worried that we as a society are not following the Rabbis’ example but instead perpetuating the dangers of learning only a single story about history and current events. We seem to have lost the ability to hold paradoxical truths and complexity. There is either good or evil, racist or antiracist, indigenous or colonialist, victim or oppressor. It is easy to fall into a trap of either/or thinking. Today’s culture prefers oversimplified, single stories, but often the truth is both/and, not either/or. As the writer G. K. Chesterton wrote, “Some people live in the immaculate prison of one idea.”
Anti-Israel Bias on Campus 
    The stakes are high when it comes to education and Israel. I am deeply concerned that some of the faculty at our schools are perpetuating a single, anti-Israel story to their students. The single story in this case is a fixation on the humanitarian disaster in Gaza. And this story is a very important story. Our hearts break and should break. Palestinian children do not deserve this. Sparing civilian life in war is not only a matter of international law but is also an issue discussed deeply in Jewish tradition. 
    The problem is not that the story of Palestinian suffering isn’t important. It’s very important. It’s that that story can’t be the only story. Palestinian suffering can’t be the single, exclusive story through which the entire conflict is understood. But this kind of single-storytelling contributes to the antisemitic situation happening on many college campuses. It feels like too much of the media and too many of our teachers are regurgitating Hamas' propaganda uncritically. We need to be sure to tell Israel’s story, too, and not just the story of October 7, but the whole story. 
    I am a Zionist, and I believe we must never take the State of Israel for granted. If there had been a State of Israel, there would not have been a Holocaust. But more than a refuge, Israel is our homeland and its own creative force in the history of Judaism. The building of Tel Aviv is just as great an accomplishment as the writing of the Talmud. It’s miraculous.
    We must do our best to foster more nuanced discussions about Israel, but, first, we have to insist that universities enforce their own codes of conduct. Assemblies with constitutionally-protected free speech are one thing. Encampments, staying beyond the time frame of their permits, are another. Wearing masks while chanting “intifada” in dormitory lobbies is harassment. Universities should be held legally accountable for enforcing their own rules to create a safe environment for students. 
    Secondly, we need education with context and nuance. When I teach our teenagers at Temple Sinai, I explain that Israel has been faced with impossible choices regarding Gaza.

• If you say they may never bomb a hospital or a school because that’s always a war crime, then you are also saying using human shields and taking hostages work. Hamas will perpetuate another October 7. 

• If you say, “I’m no military expert, but the IDF shouldn’t use bombs and find another way into the bunker,” what if there is no other way into the bunker? What if it would cost the lives of dozens of soldiers?

  • And if you say bomb them and know that it’s Hamas’ responsibility for putting them there, then you have to live with the bombing of children, which is horrible. Our hearts can become hardened.
    
        Things are blurry for the Israeli commander who wants to stop terrorism but not kill innocent people. Civilians can also be hostage-takers. Hostages have been found in the homes of journalists, and weapons have been discovered in maternity wards. How is any army supposed to humanely stop terrorism under these conditions? 
        And in avoiding the danger of a single story, we also can’t go too far in the other direction. Both-sidesism is really single-storyism in a different guise, where one side is raised up disproportionately. There shouldn’t be moral relativity where the IDF and Hamas or Hezbollah become morally the same. They are not. That is untrue, and it is unfair. It needs to be said and resaid, especially to the next generation: Hamas wants as much carnage as possible, and the overwhelming majority of Israeli soldiers have conducted themselves admirably and with restraint, full stop. Israel has not bombed indiscriminately, but this is what the hell of war looks like.
        We cannot allow revisionism and propaganda to have equal footing with the truth. As Deborah Lipstadt taught us, “Many of us have grown up in the world of the academy and enlightened liberal thought, where we’re taught everything is open to debate. But that’s not the case…. There are facts, there are opinions, and there are lies.”
       I recognize critics might accuse me or other Zionists that our single story is October 7, and I take that to heart. I admit to being inescapably biased, but I am truly trying to see the full picture. I also wish other communities would struggle over Israeli lives as much as we do over Palestinian lives. Where is the worldwide outrage on behalf of Israelis under bombardment by Hezbollah? It doesn’t exist. And if some want to hold Jews, and only Jews, to an impossible standard of warfare never before achieved by humankind, that’s an antisemitic double standard. 
        Being a Zionist does not mean being unrealistic about Israel’s shortcomings. We can have a both/and view. We can be pro-Israel and be anti-Netanyahu. We can admire Israeli democracy while also acknowledging it’s dysfunctional. Thousands of Israelis have been protesting in the streets, but when it is time to come together for self-defense, they do so. We should do the same. The fact these protests have taken place is to Israel’s credit, for no such protests would be tolerated in Iran or other countries in the Middle East. The State of Israel, like the U.S., is a work in progress. Just as we in the U.S. are working to create “a more perfect union,” so is Israel seeking to become the Promised Land. But Israel has to survive. 
        Everyone says Israel has a right to defend itself, but when they actually do, the critics wring their hands. Israel is not the aggressor; Iran is. We are all still absorbing the implications of Iran’s recent missile attack and what it might mean. Do not shrug it off; if one of those missiles had gotten through, it would have been catastrophic. Ten million people were in bunkers. I am sure Israel’s critics will do their usual reversal of truth and cast Israel as the villain, because that’s what they do. The one-sidedness against Israel is crazy-making. I stand with Israel, and I want the next generation to appreciate the complex situation in which Israelis find themselves. Israel needs our unapologetic support now more than ever.
        It’s understandable that good-hearted people want all violence to end immediately, but if you really want to create an opportunity for a different, more peaceful reality, you have to stop the murderers first. Afterwards, we need real education to prevent the indoctrination of the next generation.
    The Full Picture 
        If we are seekers of truth, we must attempt to see the full picture, similar to Torah study. We need to learn to hold complexity. We must somehow reject the false, judge what is unfair, and hold multiple truths at once. And I hope in the future, when people look back on these days, the full picture will vindicate an embattled Israel imperfectly pursuing a just war. I believe that should be the verdict of history when all the metaphorical letters come together, with all of the nuances and details, from aleph to tav.
        At Temple Sinai, we have a banner which reads, “Temple Sinai Supports the People of Israel in Their Quest for Peace.” We want to push back on claims that Israelis don't want peace. Ha-emet - the truth is - Israel must fight in self-defense, but Israelis crave peace. So do we. 
    Am Yisrael Chai, Od Avinu Chai. Shanah Tovah.

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    Erev Yom Kippur - Kol Nidrei: Rerouting
    On June 5, astronauts Sunita Williams and Barry Wilmore launched in a spaceship for the International Space Station for what was supposed to be an eight-day mission. The propulsion system showed problems, and there was a helium leak. They became stuck, and they were supposed to get a ride home on the Starliner in September. That, too, had problems. They are still stuck in space, and they are scheduled to return in February. As the Yiddish expression says, “People plan, and God laughs.” The astronauts have shown incredible grace and resilience.
         But I am just as impressed with ground control. I have imagined what it must have been like in the control room when the first mishap presented itself. Was there a hesitation? Denial? Or were the people at NASA immediately able to admit responsibility and change course? Were there a few minutes where someone realized, “Oh God, I just messed up” before they said anything? Or were they able to immediately act because lives were on the line? How long did it take between the first “Uh oh” until the alarm was sounded? However it happened, someone said, “Houston, we have a problem.” The people on the ground admitted something was wrong and acted accordingly.
         We human beings don’t like to admit when we have made a mistake or a misjudgment. Too often, human nature is to cruise along as if nothing is the matter. “Denial ain’t just a river in Egypt.” The quicker we admit our errors, however, the better it is for everyone.
          Moses Maimonides outlines five steps for teshuva, repentance. They are: 1. naming and owning the harm you have caused, 2. starting to change, 3. restitution and accepting consequences, 4. an apology, and then 5. making different choices. According to Rabbi Danya Ruttenberg, “In theory, it all sounds simple enough: Own the pain you’ve caused, take steps to change, make amends, apologize, and don’t do it again.”        
         However, that very first step is often where we get hung up: naming and owning the harm we have caused. Our world is filled with cover-ups and denials. And even when we know someone has been hurt, we tend to prefer to skip right to step four with an insincere apology rather than naming and taking responsibility. As Rabbi Ruttenberg elaborates, our non-apologies sound something like, “I am sorry you feel hurt by the completely reasonable thing I did.” Or, “You know I would never intend that.” Or sometimes “I’m sorry” really means, “Please don’t be mad at me.” That does not help the astronaut who is stuck in space. And by talking about your good intentions, you really are putting the responsibility on someone else for forgiveness rather than doing the work of repentance. Instead of focusing on our own good intentions or motivations (which makes us the center of attention), we should instead own up to the impact of our words or actions.
         When I’m driving, I like to put on the GPS, the Global Positioning System, even for short trips. I prefer Google Maps, but my wife likes Waze. In any case, sometimes, despite the directions on the screen or the oh-so-helpful and annoying artificial voice, I miss my turn. That’s when the lady in the box says, “Rerouting!”
        My first instinct is often to think that the computer is wrong, or that it’s their fault for not telling me sooner, or even, “Oh come on! How could anyone have known that’s what you meant?” Because I don’t immediately admit my mistake, I almost never make the next turn the computer tells me in order to get back on track. But the longer I drive without admitting that I missed a turn, the more often that way-too-cheerful, “Rerouting!” chimes away over and over again, and the longer it takes to turn around and fix my error. I can be my own worst enemy.
         I don’t think I am alone in this behavior. Because we are human, we don’t like to admit our mistakes. Our pride or fear gets in the way. But the longer it goes on, the worse it gets. Admitting wrongdoing is the first step, not the last, no matter how far down the road we’ve gone or how much time has passed, and it takes courage and humility to do so.
        Old mistakes are often the hardest to fix. After all, we think, it happened so long ago. Regrets get a life of their own, and grudges build up over time. A regret is a grudge you hold against yourself. It takes bravery to revisit these transgressions or to bring up “old business.” But, as the ancient proverb goes, “God loves a U-turn.”
        Teshuva, which is usually translated as repentance, might today be better translated as “rerouting.” Tonight on Yom Kippur we begin the hard work of thinking about where we might have made a wrong turn. It might have been long ago, and we have no idea how we might make our way back to the right path. But I believe we all have a GPS, a God Positioning System, that is trying to direct us to where we should be. Call it our moral compass, the still, small voice of Elijah from the Bible, or Jiminy Cricket. Our tradition says repentance and repair are often still possible, if we can do the hard work of admitting we are off-course. Otherwise, we wind up adrift, morally floating in space, not knowing how to get back down to earth and feel grounded.
        Tonight, let’s give each other and ourselves permission to admit that we are human. Being human means being willing to hear the words, “Uh oh” when we mess up and admit them out loud. It means trying to not be so defensive. Tonight, and this year, can be a new start. That’s why we have Rosh HaShanah and Yom Kippur in the first place. And it is easier if we do so together as a community because everyone is “rerouting.”
         So let’s begin together.

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      Yom Kippur: Eileh Ezkarah & Shiva B’October
      
         On Yom Kippur, usually in the afternoon here at Temple Sinai, we read a part of the service called Eileh Ezkarah. It is a time when we traditionally remember the martyrs of the Jewish people. 
          
      
          But this year is different because we have martyrs right now. On this Yom Kippur we commemorate Shiva B’October, the 7th of October. It was pointed out to me that when Israelis say the 7th of October, Shiva B’October, they are also saying “shiva during October.” We just commemorated this first anniversary this week. And we join the chorus of people demanding “release the hostages.”
           On this Yom Kippur, instead of the traditional reading about the Ten Sages executed by Rome and the story of Rabbi Akiba saying the Sh’ma before he died, I am going to share several stories from Shiva B’October from Israel. And instead of a classic sermon, I will share seven short stories at this service, and then we will hear three more at the Yizkor service this afternoon. Ten stories total from October 7th in place of the Ten Sages. Their stories are each sermons in themselves.

      1. Amit Mann was a 22 year-old Magen David Adom paramedic and course instructor. She was murdered by Hamas terrorists when they stormed the clinic in Kibbutz Be’eri where she was treating the wounded on October 7. She was trapped in the clinic with the injured and dead for many hours before the terrorists succeeded in breaking in. 
          MDA director-general Eli Bin, explained, “Amit sacrificed herself while trying to protect the lives of the patients. Her priority was only what was best for them. Her untimely passing left us shocked and in pain. Magen David Adom cherishes all that Amit has done, and our employees and volunteers bow their heads and hug her family. May her memory be blessed.”
          Amit’s fellow paramedic and best friend Oshrit Haddad said she could always be depended upon. Haddad said, “Amit was someone who was simply always there, you could always trust her. On Saturday she continued to help patients under fire and tried to save their lives. She fought for their lives until the last moments.”

      2. As war erupted between Israel and Hamas in the Gaza Strip, another fear materialized – that Hezbollah would seize an opportunity and attack Israel on its northern frontier.
      Since then, residents of communities bordering Lebanon have been evacuated from their homes and army forces were sent to the border to protect it. Among them was Lt. Col. Alim Abdallah, who was killed on October 9 in battle with terrorists entering Israel from Lebanon.
          Abdallah, age 40, was the deputy commander of the 300th Baram Regional Brigade. His military career spanned over two decades and he was killed days before he was slated to be released from combat service. He was a proud Israeli and member of the Druze community.
          He was eulogized by family and friends as a brave and modest man known for his care for his loved ones and soldiers, as well as an avid sportsman and passionate runner.
          At his funeral, Sheikh Mowafaq Tarif, the spiritual leader of the Israeli Druze community, said at his funeral, “Everyone who knew his way of life, from a young age to his death – his bravery, his initiative and his special personality – knows well who Alim was.” His funeral was attended by thousands of people.
          Both in life and death, Abdallah personified the deep bond of the Israeli Druze community to its country. Following Abdallah’s death, the IDF released a video of him filmed ahead of Remembrance Day a couple of years ago, speaking of unity in the army while standing in front of a wall commemorating his brigade’s fallen soldiers. 
          “What characterizes the wall behind me is that it symbolizes the beautiful face of Israel. Sadly, there are fallen soldiers of all denominations here. The wall doesn’t differentiate between Druze, Christians, Muslims, Jews or Circassians,” he said. “The‎y’re all on the same wall.” 

      3. Filipina caregiver Angelyn Aguirre was at the home of the elderly Israeli woman, Nira, she was caring for in Kfar Aza, when hundreds of Hamas terrorists descended on the kibbutz, unleashing a horrific rampage. 
          The 32-year-old caregiver has been working in Israel for seven years and was due to return to the Philippines for good in December to be with her husband.
          On the morning of the attack, Angelyn and Nira rushed to the bomb shelter in the house after hearing rocket alert sirens. But, it quickly became apparent that terrorists were invading the kibbutz. 
          The victim’s sister, Wilma, told the Philippine Star that the last message she received from Angelyn read: “I’m scared. They are already here.”
         Wilma said the lock on the door of the bomb shelter was broken, and that’s likely how the terrorists found the two women, ultimately murdering them.
          The sister said that Angelyn could have run or tried to find a way to escape, but she stayed by the side of the woman she had pledged to care for. Jerusalem Deputy Mayor Fleur Hassan-Nahoum praised her. “Despite having a chance to flee the Hamas terror attacks, Angeline showed unbelievable humanity and loyalty by remaining by Nira’s side during the violence, resulting in both of them being brutally murdered by Hamas,” she wrote. “Unimaginable honor in the face of evil.”

      4. Paratroop commander Roi Nahari, 23, and Golani Battalion trooper Amichai Rubin, also 23, were killed by Hamas terrorists on October 7 near the Gaza border. Nahari was defending civilians in Kfar Aza and Rubin was defending comrades on his base. Both are credited with saving others in the last moments of their own lives.
          Nahari’s family told reporters that Roi’s twin brother, also a paratrooper, told them he and Roi had discussed just a month ago their desire to donate their organs in the case of their death. 
          Dr. Yael Peled, medical director of the Heart Transplant Unit at Sheba Medical Center explained Nahari’s heart was transplanted into a seriously ill patient. He commented, “In these days when we face adversity, Roi, of blessed memory, and his family give us hope. Not only did Roi’s kind heart save the life of our patient, but it also teaches us about the goodness of human beings, generosity, partnership, and love for one another.”
          Rubin’s lungs went to a 70-year-old individual, his kidneys to a 29-year-old recipient and a seven-year-old recipient, one lobe of his liver to a 23-year-old man and another liver lobe to an eight-year-old boy. The eight-year-old’s father said, “My child reveres soldiers. When he hears that his donor was a brave soldier, it will undoubtedly increase his strength.”
          In total, the organs of these two soldiers saved the lives of 10 seriously ill people from the ages of eight to 72.

      5. Shlomo Ron, age 85, saved his family by sitting in his armchair.
          When terrorists entered Kibbutz Nahal Oz and began massacring its residents on the morning of Saturday, October 7, Ron, his wife Hannah, daughters and grandchild were at home. As it became clear that terrorists were moving from home to home, Ron told his family to enter the safe room in the house while he remained outside.
          Despite being urged to join them, he decided to sit in the living room all by himself, so that when Hamas terrorists might enter the house they’d think he’s just an elderly man home alone, shoot him and move on, without searching for more people.
          And it worked. After they killed him, more and more terrorists entered the house, saw a dead man sitting alone, and moved on, not bothering to take another look. All this time, his family was in the shelter until they were rescued in the evening.
          His niece Irit shared on Facebook, “On Saturday morning, when the terrorists were at their doorstep, my uncle, empty-handed, used his elderly, sick body to protect the house with his wife, daughters and grandson who were in the safe room.”
          “He went out to the living room, sat down in his armchair and waited for them. And they, the murderers, came, saw an old and lonely man sitting in an armchair, shot him and moved on. It didn’t cross their minds that this old man was physically protecting his dear treasure, his wife and family, and that’s why they moved on. That’s how my aunt Hannah’leh, my cousins and my cousin’s son were saved.” 

      6. Awad Darawshe was one of many paramedics assigned to work at the Supernova music festival in southern Israel on October 7. That morning, thousands of Hamas terrorists descended on the event, indiscriminately shooting the festival goers.
          The 23-year-old paramedic was one of them. In giving his own life, however, Darawshe saved many others. 
      Darawshe was part of Yossi Ambulances’s paramedic team. When the station’s leader told all staff to leave the area immediately, the 23-year-old refused to evacuate. 
          He continued treating the wounded as bullets were whistling above his head and grenades were exploding all around. Eventually, however, the paramedic was shot dead. According to the Foreign Ministry, the terrorists then stole Darawshe’s ambulance and drove it to the Gaza Strip. 
          Several days later his body was identified by relatives and buried on Friday in Iksal, an Arab council in northern Israel. The Darawshe family, who are all Palestinian Israelis, said he decided to stay put because he believed he could reason with the perpetrators. 
          The family adds that although they feel immense hurt, they are very proud of him. Hatzalah Spokesperson Raphael Poch said, “Awad was a dedicated volunteer of ours in the Nazareth chapter of United Hatzalah for the past three years. He always gave his time and energy to help others whenever they needed medical assistance. He never said no when someone asked for help, no matter who the person was or where they came from. He was a young and unassuming individual, and we are outraged and deeply saddened by his brutal murder. His memory will live on and inspire many others to volunteer and help save lives.”

      7. Matan Abergil saved the lives of six of his friends in the battle for Kibbutz Nir Am, on October 7. The group of seven Golani soldiers found themselves trapped while fighting more than 50 terrorists, after having to retreat due to a shower of bullets as the terrorists swarmed their armored personnel carrier.
          When a grenade was thrown into the vehicle, Abergil immediately covered it with his body, saving all of their lives.  
          Daniel Varach, one of the surviving six, tried to save Abergil’s life. Varach told The Jerusalem Post, “I saw there was no pulse, and I said ‘He’s no longer with us.’” Another surviving soldier said, “In our name and on behalf of all our friends, we thank you immensely. You saved us all and shielded us with your body. You are a true hero. I will forever remember you and share your story everywhere I go.”
          All of these stories come from I24News, an Israeli news service.
      
      Afternoon:
      8. Carmel Gat (40), was from Tel Aviv, the daughter of Eshel and Kinneret (who was also murdered in the Hamas attack on October 7th), and sister to Or and Alon. Carmel was an occupational therapist, full of compassion and love, always finding ways to support and help others. She loved solo travel, meeting new people, live rock music concerts, and was particularly fond of Radiohead. On October 7th, while staying at her parents' home in Kibbutz Be'eri, terrorists broke in and kidnapped her. After 50 days without a sign of life, the family received testimonies from returned hostages, who described her as their guardian angel. To survive captivity, she taught them meditation and yoga exercises. Imagine the tunnels, and imagine a woman with the fortitude to teach the other hostages meditation and yoga under those conditions.

      9. Eden Yerushalmi (24) was from Tel Aviv, daughter of Shirit and Maor, sister to May and Shani. A vibrant young woman with many friends and hobbies. Eden loved spending summer days at the beach playing paddleball, attending parties, and was studying to become a Pilates instructor. On October 7th, she worked as a bartender at the NOVA music festival. When the sirens started, she sent a video of the rocket fire to her family group chat, saying she was leaving the party.
          During the Hamas attack, Eden had the presence of mind to call the police, describing the situation and pleading, "Find me, okay?" For four hours afterward, she spoke with her sisters May and Shani, who heard everything she went through as she tried to escape. Her last words were, "Shani, they've caught me."
          Rabbi Hanna Yerushalmi saw that Eden’s last name was coincidentally identical to her own. She decided to adopt Eden as her cousin, and she wrote poetry to her. Rabbi Yerushalmi’s poems can be found in the book, Strip of Land.

      10. Hersh Goldberg-Polin (23), was the son of Jon Polin and Rachel Goldberg, and elder brother to two sisters. Born in the United States, he immigrated to Israel with his family at the age of 7. On October 7th, Hersh attended the NOVA music festival. When the Hamas attack began, he fled to the shelter. During the attack, Hersh's arm was injured, and witnesses report that he managed to apply a tourniquet to himself. On April 24th, Hamas released a video of Hersh showing his amputated hand. 
         Hersh’s parents advocated all over the globe to remind everyone that the hostages are real people from all different nationalities and faiths. 
          I would like to now read some of Rachel Goldberg-Polin’s eulogy for her son now:
          “I am honest. And I say, it is not that Hersh was perfect. But, he was the perfect son for me. And I am so grateful to G-d, and I want to do hakarat hatov and thank G-d right now, for giving me this magnificent present of my Hersh…. For 23 years I was privileged to have this most stunning treasure, to be Hersh’s Mama. I’ll take it and say thank you. I just wish it had been for longer.
          “Hersh, for all of these months I have been in such torment worrying about you every millisecond of everyday. It was such a specific type of misery that I have never experienced before. I tried hard to suppress the missing you part. Because that, I was convinced, would break me. So I spent 330 terrified, scared, worrying, and frightened. It closed my throat and made my soul throb with 3rd degree burns…
          “Now, my Hersh, I ask for your help. As we transform our hope into grief and this new unknown brand of pain, I beg of you, please do what you can to have your light shine down on me, Dada, Leebie and Orly. Help shower us with healing and resilience. Help us to rise again. I know it will take a long time, but please may G-d bless us that one day, one fine day, Dada, Leebie, Orly and I will hear laughter, and we will turn around and see… that it’s us. And that we are ok. You will always be with us as a force of love and vitality, you will become our superpower…
         “Ok, sweet boy, go now on your journey, I hope it’s as good as the trips you dreamed about, because finally, my sweet sweet boy, finally, finally, finally, finally you are FREE!”

      Carmel, Eden, and Hersh were part of the group of 6 hostages whose bodies were found on August 31. They had been executed only days before, meaning they had lived 330 days in captivity. And I am lifting up only these lights out of the thousands affected. Seven from this morning, three from this afternoon, ten sages and martyrs. Ten sparks. 
      
      
      Let’s now take a moment of silence. 
      
      Zichronam livracha: their memory will be a blessing. May their example inspire us to also lead lives of self-sacrifice.
      
      Am Yisrael Chai, od Avinu chai.