Leaving Rav Twerskys funeral.
I never had the privilege of meeting this great Tzadik. I didn’t even know what he looked like. I didn’t know where he lived, or the name of his wife or children, but what I do know is that he was murdered without reason. He was a tzadik, a talmid chacham. I didn’t need to hear his students speak at the Levaya and give all the examples of the great chesed he did or the tremendous dedication he had to Torah and mitzvot. I didn’t need to hear his son cry out “TATI! Who will walk me to the chuppah?!”
I could tell just how much he meant to so many people around the world just by the thousands of people at his funeral. Without ever speaking to him I could tell how holy he was. But that’s not what brought me to tears.
What brought me to tears was seeing a group of about 30 boys around the age of 5 being guided in a line, one by one out of their gan (kindergarten) through the funeral at the end of their school day. The majority of the boys had big smiles on their faces, as if it was a game not to get lost through the sea of people. They were going through a real life maze. The innocence on their faces is what brought me to tears. The fact that one day this will all be explained to them and their innocence will disappear faster than the snap of your fingers. The fact that childen are living in a world where it isn’t even safe to practice one’s religion in their own country! If one can be murdered while they are praying in a synogauge with their tallit and teffilin on IN THE STATE OF ISRAEL, THE JEWISH STATE, where can one feel safe!