Three Jewish boys were murdered by Hamas terrorists 18 days ago.
I tossed and turned in bed all night yesterday upon hearing the news the bodies were found, their souls gone to another place. Right before Shabbat 18 days ago we learned three Israeli children were kidnapped. I spent all of Shabbat worried but hopeful we would know more by Saturday night. Shabbat ended and little was known. Then a week went by, then two and then after almost three weeks we learned the bodies were found in a hole covered by rocks.
During this time their mothers were a symbol of hope and courage. These beautiful women with shining souls stood in front of tv cameras in their traditional Orthodox clothes and represented faith in God to the world. They never lost hope. It pains me to see their grief now. When I heard last night that the boys were dead my mind immediately mourned for their mothers. The women who carried them, brought them into this world and now would bury them. I was in the middle of dinner with my husband and our cousin. The food on my plate, my glass of wine - barely touched. I could not celebrate while knowing these mothers suffered such a horrific fate. I left in the middle of the meal and walked up Jaffa street.
This is what I saw at the corner of Ben Yehuda and Jaffa:
I saw religious Jews and secular Jews in unity. They lit candles and sang songs and cried together in memory of the three boys. A man in the crowd said Kaddish and we all said "amen" with our hearts crying out.
I stood there not knowing the words to the songs that filled my heart with comfort. I watched strangers cry in the street and flags wave in the wind as we stood together mourning children most of us never met. I pray we can finally find the motivation to unite as a people. May there deaths remind us to stay together, to love one another and to pray for peace for all people.
A long time ago I held a grieving parent in my arms. The experience has never left me. It is the greatest cruelty to have a parent bury a child. I was in awe of the three mothers during this experience, watching their hopeful faces believing that with prayer of all the Jewish people their children would return home to them, healthy and alive. Seeing their faces today as they mourned broke my heart. I came home from seminary and fell asleep on the couch, unable to process the pain etched on their faces.
My heart remains heavy. Although I do not know the mothers and I do not know their sons, I mourn with them. We mothers of the world must sometimes bear the greatest pain. I pray for them to heal and to find peace and to make peace with their sorrow so they may continue to live and perhaps one day know joy again.
Meet the Blogger!
I'm a mom. A writer. A lover of good fantasy. A proponent of nursing when possible. A birth advocate. I am absolutely horrible at keeping my house clean or the dishes washed or the laundry done. I strongly believe in women having a positive birth. When we start to respect women's rights to birth the way they want, we can start to treat women as equal people in this world.
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