מָשׁוּל כְּחלון פתוח
Hearing the silence of the first day of Rosh HaShannah, you couldn’t help but think back to Rosh HaShannah three years ago. Those fateful days when we had no idea what fate was sealed.
Over chag, my son wanted to play with his lego in our guest room which also serves as our office, and our mamad. He wanted a bit of space near everyone else, but also somewhere his younger siblings wouldn’t trample over his toys. Fair enough. He asked my husband to open the window so he could have some more light.
We moved into our home three years ago. What a dream, two Olim, two young sabras, owning their first home in Israel. A בית נאמן בישראל.
For the vast majority of those last three years our mamad, concrete, window has been closed.
Far too often we have to close it due to sirens – occasional, constant, or fear of constant. And then my kids got used to it and they would panic when they saw the window open. I realize now, in my own subconscious, I feel better when I see the window closed. I just told my husband last night, “I have just accepted that it is a windowless room. One less thing to worry about in case of an emergency.”
All of chag I couldn’t help but think about the article Rav Stav wrote in the months following the Simchat Torah Massacre of 5784. To sum up his words in a much less eloquent way, Rav Stav wrote that the silence and no shofar blasts on the first day of Rosh HaShannah that year was replaced by the sirens on Simchat Torah, October 7th, morning and again on Yom HaZikaron that year, when we had over 1,200 Israelis dead and hostages still in Gaza.
At work, before Rosh HaShannah this year, my team went around and shared a memory from the year and a blessing for the year to come. One colleague spoke about the joy and unity we all felt on Hoshannah Rabba 5786 when all living hostages were finally returned home. You could feel the excitement in the air. You could finally breathe. People were united. We were on a high!
And then, as always, especially during an election year, the arguments returned and the unity started to dissipate.
But maybe, my newly opened mamad window can be our sign to open more metaphorical windows. Open windows in our hearts and souls. Open windows to Torah study. Open windows to friends, family, and all people. Open ourselves up to G-d. And G-d willing, open ourselves to make space for blessings in the new year. May we always be able to see the good in G-d’s plans.
