How good are your tents, Hersh

This morning, I joined the prayer service at the shivah mourning gathering for Hersh Goldberg-Polin z”l, who was murdered by Hamas after over 330 days of captivity. It was held in a large tent set up in an empty lot just up the block from his family’s Jerusalem home. 

Over 150 men and at least 30-40 women formed a temporary congregation that overflowed onto the area outside the tent. Hersh’s dad Jon led the prayers, the Torah portion of Shoftim was read that speaks of capital punishment only being rendered after two witnesses have testified and a proper legal procedure has been enacted, the shofar (ram’s horn) was blown to mark the Hebrew month of Elul, heralding the impending days of judgment, and the entire family recited the Mourner’s Kaddish together. The service concluded with prayers for the safety and success of the IDF soldiers and for the return of the captives still held in Gaza. Afterwards, parallel rows of people were set up as is done at the end of a traditional funeral so that the family could pass through and everyone in attendance could express liturgical words of comfort. 

The family then sat together with three or four seats directly across from them. A line was formed around the tent so that people who wanted could take turns in small groups, speaking with them. In the course of half an hour, more and more people joined, waiting in silence for their opportunity to honor Hersh’s memory and console his family. Since I don’t have a close personal connection with them, I chose to convene with the mourners by sitting with others a few feet back from where they were as in a traditional shivah visit. I couldn’t hear the conversations, but I could see and sense the interactions. 

There are many emotions and reactions that I will need to unpack, but one sticks out at this point. The Goldberg-Polins are remarkable human beings. I generally don’t relate to exaggerated descriptions of righteousness and piety, so all I will do is share what I witnessed and experienced.

Sitting at the Goldbergs-Polin shivah, I encountered a couple who moved to Israel with their young family and succeeded in establishing their place among a strong community of fellow immigrants in Jerusalem (such comrades, speaking with their mix of Hebrew and English, showed up in large numbers both to the funeral and the shivah). The Goldberg-Polins’ lives were upended by the shock of Oct. 7th in the most visceral and tragic manner when at 8:11 AM they received two messages from Hersh, “I love you” and “I’m sorry.” They soon learned that he was taken hostage only after part of his left arm was blown off while he and his best friend Aner z”l sought to repel grenades thrown into a shelter where they and over thirty others were hiding. 

Jon and Rachel, with the support of many kindred souls, spent nearly a year of tireless efforts to save their son and all the other captives, including countless cross-continental trips and hundreds of meetings with officials and anyone who might be able to help. Just when, as Rachel shared at the funeral, “[T]he hope that perhaps a deal was near, was so authentic it was crunchy. It tasted CLOSE,” they were informed at the beginning of this week that six of them including Hersh had been shot sometime last week and then left in a Hamas tunnel. Yet at the shivah tent, it appeared that the Goldberg-Polins were comforting those who sat with them.

On the tent wall were pasted, along with the customary (in Israel) black and white bold-lettered death and shivah announcement for Hersh z”l, those of the five others found with him who had also been kidnapped by Hamas on Oct. 7th and then executed at the same time, Carmel Gat z”l, Eden Yerushalmi z”l, Alexander Lobanov z”l, Almog Sarusi z”l, and Ori Danino z”l. Friends of the Polin-Goldberg family walked around offering cups of water to all those waiting in line or sitting, others made sure the family had what they needed and that the line moved in orderly fashion. 

Rachel and Jon greeted each person warmly and listened attentively to the stories or kind words communicated with them. At times they laughed while at others they appeared deeply sad, but it seemed clear that they understood that their mourning could not be detached from the collective mourning of so many – neither the other five captives who were murdered alongside Hersh, nor the more than 100 families of captives still in limbo, nor the over 1,145 victims of the Oct. 7th attacks, nor the 340 soldiers killed in battle since then defending our country, nor those held captive who were liberated and are trying to rebuild their shattered lives, nor the hundreds of thousands throughout the country who were uprooted from their homes, nor for that matter the entire country that remains in a state of perpetual sadness since Oct. 7th, and now looks with trepidation at the Jewish holiday season and especially the Simhat Torah “festival” that is closing in upon us.

Hersh’s name translated into Hebrew is Zvi, which is usually understood as a “deer.” One of the traditional names of the Land of Israel is Erez ha-Zvi – the Land of Zvi. However, in this context, the word is defined to mean beauty, as the Book of Ezekiel (20, 6) pronounces, “zvi hi le-khol ha-arazot – it is a beautiful ornament to all the lands.”

May Hersh’s beautiful soul smile upon all of us in this Land, and in the words of a prayer recited at the beginning of the service this morning, may our supplications for the safety and security of Israel correspond with God’s true and virtuous plan, may we see our remaining captives returned safely, and draw inspiration toward goodness and kindness from the tent pitched in Hersh’s memory where his dear family sits in mourning, 

Ma tovu ohalekha Ya’akov [Hirsch], mishk’notekha Yisra’el.
…Va’ani t’filati l’kha Hashem et ratzon,
Elohim b’rov hasdekha aneini be’emet yish’ekha.

How good are your tents, Jacob [Hersh]: your dwelling places, Israel…
May my prayer to You God be at a favorable time;
God, in the abundance of Your kindness answer me with the truth of Your deliverance.