Holding Space for the Pain Within the Joy
I want to take a moment to write about something hard and difficult.
As we come together as a nation and truly welcome back those who have suffered — those whose families have been agonizing for their return — there is a group within us that is also aching. We can’t forget them. We cannot.
It is the families of the soldiers who have made the ultimate sacrifice. The injured soldiers — young people in their prime — who have lost a limb, the ability to walk, the ability to do all kinds of things they used to do before the war. They have sacrificed their quality of life to defend our land and the right of the Jewish people to live. Nothing less and nothing more.
These unsung heroes are a vital part of the larger puzzle. By no means are we forgetting how important they are — they are an inseparable part of the Jewish mosaic, woven into the very fabric of our history. Their courage and devotion are not to be forgotten, but to be cherished. Their light, even through pain, continues to illuminate who we are as a people.
There are also those who have lost their loved ones — young girls, young women who lost their future; young widows and young orphans who buried the ones they loved. Parents who had the unbearable task of burying their children.
In this duality of pain and joy, there is life. Nothing is more Jewish than that. It has always been this way for us — bittersweet.
I guess what I’m trying to say is: hold a space for them. Many will feel sadness. In the joy of welcoming everyone, there will also be the sadness of not being able to see their own. The inability to ever hug their loved ones again, to ever have a conversation with them again, to ever build together what they wanted to build — to dream, to live.
I don’t think any of us can feel your pain the way you feel it, because it is such a personal thing. What we do feel is a deep sense of compassion and gratitude.
What we want to say is: we don’t forget. We don’t forget them or what they have done for our people. We will never forget them — nor your sacrifice, nor your pain of loss. It is that very sacrifice, repeated throughout the centuries, that has granted us the opportunity to live.
This dates to the time of the Maccabees, or perhaps even before that, with the Jews who came into battle — because it has never been easy to be a Jew. And just as it has never been easy, it will never be easy.
It is my hope that each one of you will be able to find a bit of solace in knowing that none of it was in vain — that we are hugging you, that we feel for you, and that we honor this unbelievable sacrifice that was made.
It will never be forgotten.
We share your pain — your pain is our pain. We love you, and we hope that you shall find peace. And may the memories of all of those who didn’t make it live on forever.
