"You reminded us of what these prayers are all about. It was authentic”
During a recent visit to Israel, I was honored on Shabbos with the aliyah of maftir and leading the congregation in Mussaf. The gabbai informed me that I would also recite a Mi Shebeirach for the people of Israel, the soldiers fighting in Gaza and Lebanon, and the hostages held by Hamas.
The haftarah that Shabbos was the story of David and Yonasan — an extraordinary account of friendship, loyalty, and courage against long odds, and a poignant prelude to the responsibility I was about to assume. When the gabbai called on me to recite the Mi Shebeirach, I felt the weight of the moment. Inspired by the narrative of David and Yonasan, I began reciting the prayer for the people of Israel.
Then I reached the prayer for the soldiers — “yatzileim mikol tzarah v’tzukah, yadbeir soneinu tachteihem” — asking G-d to protect the people of Israel, heal them, and defeat their enemies. My throat tightened; my voice caught. Tears streamed down my face, and I began to sob.
I couldn’t go on.
A heavy silence filled the synagogue.
I was mortified. Here I was, a visitor from Baltimore who was living in comfort and security and far from the front lines, surrounded by congregants whose children and grandchildren were fighting in Gaza and risking their lives in Lebanon. How could an American — an outsider — have the audacity to falter at such a critical moment?
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