I found people far from Yiddishkeit who, in their anguish, had rediscovered their Father in Heaven
Uri Chanan, my chavrusa. He had his first conversation with Hashem while hiding in a ditch (Photo: Kesher Yehudi)
I met Nir Shani in what remained of his home in Kibbutz Be’eri, the parts that weren’t consumed by fire or had melted into unrecognizable globs.
It was four months after the massacre when Nir took me around the neighborhood. Together, we entered the home of his neighbors Hy”d, and Nir described how they had been murdered. The family had fled their home, only to be gunned down by the terrorists outside, who then stormed and looted the house, smashed everything in sight, and set it on fire.
That’s more or less what Be’eri looked like: burnt houses, collapsed roofs. Only the succahs of the few traditional families remained standing. I can’t say whether it was a miracle or a sign of some sort, but as the Jewish People have witnessed throughout the ages, material possessions can be destroyed, but spiritual acquisitions remain untouchable.
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