“Why isn’t this the top news story?” Meirav Berger, the mother of soldier and hostage Agam Berger, asked me on Shabbat morning. We were attending a special Shabbat program on behalf of the hostages and watching survivors of the Nova festival dancing, with tears in their eyes, around a Sefer Torah.
“I will definitely write about it,” I told her, “and I’m sure it’s today’s headline in heaven!”
Words are inadequate to describe this powerful experience, as more than 100 survivors of the Nova festival came to spend a Shabbat in Jerusalem. After getting to meet them over Shabbat, we said that they deserve to be referred to not just as survivors but as the Heroes of Nova; since that horrific day ten months ago, they feel they are on a mission. In their own words:
Yonatan: “I came face to face with absolute evil, but I also saw God there.”
Dana: “They wanted to kill me — not because I’m Dana or because I love dogs, but only because I am a Jew.”
Nadav: “Everyone can see the wound on my body— but the injury to my soul is much deeper. Still, I wake up every morning, determined to keep going.”
The Shabbat event was the brainchild of Tzili Schneider, founder of the Kesher Yehudi (Jewish Connection) organization. She also invited two hostage families to participate in this event, which is how I had the opportunity to speak with Meirav Berger and Sigi Cohen, mother of Eliya Cohen, who was kidnapped at the festival.
One of the highlights was when two of the Nova survivors requested to recite “HaGomel” (the blessing said after being rescued from danger). They hadn’t wanted to say it in the past, but finally, it felt right. First, Guy recited the blessing, followed by Sivan. Everyone answered a resounding “Amen,” after which they broke into a dance around the Sefer Torah.
Two survivors approached Tzili after Shabbat to thank her. They shared that since the trauma of October 7, they have been receiving different kinds of therapies and treatments with varying levels of effectiveness. They will continue to receive professional help, of course, but as many said, “Keeping a Shabbat like this in Jerusalem has been the most empowering and soothing experience of all.”
Insights on the Month of Av
1. Chodesh Tov—Wishing all a Good Month of Av! The Talmud states, "When Av arrives, joy is diminished." This year, it is not difficult for us to reduce our joy. Days of mourning, together with hope for rebuilding and consolation, have become more relatable and less abstract.
2. Rosh Chodesh Av begins the "Nine Days" mourning period. Different communities observe various customs from the 1st of Av until the fast of the Ninth of Av, commemorating the destruction of both the First and Second Holy Temples.
3. But there is also plenty of hope and consolation: The month of Av is also called “Menachem Av,” signifying that our Father in Heaven will comfort us. Menachem is also one of the names of Mashiach. After the Ninth of Av comes the Fifteenth of Av, Tu B’Av, a day associated with love, weddings, relationships, and celebrations.
4. Av is also an acronym for “Elul ba,” meaning Elul is coming." This serves as a reminder that the month of repentance, improvement, and renewal is approaching, encouraging us to make a fresh, new start.
Amidst all the challenges, wishing all only good news.
A Story for the Ninth of Av
Once upon a time, there was a king who lived in a palace with his family. The king's son, the prince, behaved inappropriately and unworthily until the king decided to banish him from the palace. The prince wandered the streets, falling into poverty and distress.
One day, when the king's longing for his beloved son grew stronger, he asked his servant to search for him, see how he was doing, and find out how they could help him.
The servant set out on his journey and roamed the kingdom. He started in the big cities, in the wealthy neighborhoods, and finally reached the poorest places in the kingdom, far from the palace. There, he finally found the prince, hungry and neglected. The prince was sleeping on the street, in torn clothes, without shoes, and begging for charity.
The servant was sad to see the king's son in such a state. He approached him and said, "The king has sent me to you. He misses you and wants to know what you need and what you lack."
The poor prince thought for a moment and said, "What I would really love is a new pair of shoes and a sandwich.”
"That's all?” asked the servant. “You could have asked for anything. You could have asked to come back to the palace, and this is what you are asking for?”
The moral is clear. What is our greatest aspiration? Our story is much greater than we think. Tisha B'Av is the time to shake off the dust from words like "redemption," "holiness," and "light unto the nations" and to stop and really think about what they mean. What did we come to do in the world? What do we dream about beyond shoes and a sandwich?
Remembering Our Story
Last week I joined a solidarity mission of American students who had just completed a year of college in New York. Through their eyes, I experienced again what we felt after Simchat Torah: the pain and the horror, but also the sense of unity and clarity of purpose.
Just as their flight was taking off, Rabbi Mark Wildes of Manhattan Jewish Experience, who organized the mission, heard the devastating news: 12 children had been killed in Majdal Shams. At their first stop in Israel, which was dinner at the Machane Yehuda open-air market in Jerusalem, he said, “The world is wondering what Israel’s response will be to the massacre at Majdal Shams. I look at all of you here, and I know—you are the response. You’ve decided to come to Israel now; you’ve chosen to come home.”
The MJE mission captured the essence of our story this year: They visited the site of the Nova Festival, where they were shocked by the evidence of the evil perpetrated there and held a memorial ceremony for the victims; they participated in a moving prayer service at the Western Wall; they took part in sing-along of Israeli songs, the lyrics of which express hope and love for the Land of Israel; they were overwhelmed by their meeting with parents of hostages held by Hamas; they visited the Mount Herzl military cemetery where they conducted another memorial service and listened to stories about the heroism of our soldiers.
In just one week, they experienced for the first time the entire gamut of emotions that we’ve gone through this year. More than half of their visit was dedicated to volunteering, mainly in the agricultural sector, and they planted more than 2,000 olive trees.
The next day, as they were packing food for the needy, Rabbi Wildes explained why they were helping strangers. “There is no such thing as ‘strangers’; we are all brothers. We are one nation and one body. If your leg hurts, your entire body feels the pain. Our family in Israel is in pain, so we have come here to help.”
As an Israeli, I couldn’t help but smile at the innocence of these young American tourists who came for a week’s visit at the end of their semester. At the same time, I’m sure that the students’ experience, which reminded them of essential truths, would benefit all Israelis. It certainly was for me.
Want to read more by Sivan Rahav Meir? Visit sivanrahavmeir.com