The trail was treacherous, the sun brutal, our water was finished, and one slip would mean plunging into the valley below. Were our reserves of emunah enough to propel us forward?
I was going to suggest that we say Tehillim, but I didn’t want anyone to panic, so instead, I decided to say a brachah over the few drops of water I had left so that everyone could say Amen. In the course of writing my blog, I had come across a story about a sick person who was advised to say brachos aloud so that every time someone would say Amen to his brachos, it would create a malach to protect him. So I said a fervent shehakol and everyone said Amen.
Rina, in the meantime, was whispering tefillos, and the rest of us were all quietly talking to Hashem and asking Him for help.
It was now 5:30 p.m., less than an hour to candlelighting. The sun was starting to go down, and although we were relieved to feel the heat breaking, the thought of getting stuck on the mountain in the dark, and on Shabbos, was terrifying.
Dovid started to go ahead of us, and from a distance he called to us that his nose was bleeding — a clear sign of dehydration. He continued to travel a few hundred feet ahead. (Later he told us that the reason he went ahead was that his hands were shaking and he was too nervous to assist with Samara, and he didn’t want to freak us out.) I could hardly talk at this point, but tried to stay positive and not succumb to fear. Navigating these narrow cliffs brought new meaning to the famous words of Rebbe Nachman of Breslov, “The whole world is a very narrow bridge, and the main thing is not to be afraid.”
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