The L’Chaim That Will Never be Celebrated

A few weeks ago, I had the opportunity to partner with an American summer teen group and host Rachel Goldberg and Jonathan Polin, the parents of Hersh Goldberg-Polin, as Rachel spoke to 260 teenagers about Hersh. While Rachel spoke, my educational partner, Rabbi Josh Spodek asked Jonathan if he needed anything, and Jonathan asked for a quiet office to sit in and get some work done. As he brought Jonathan to our office, Rabbi Spodek asked him if he wanted some coffee, water, or even some whisky that we keep in a bar in our office. Jonathan said he vowed not to have a l’chaim until he can enjoy it with Hersh. Then he said something that took Rabbi Spodek a few seconds to understand – Jonathan asked Rabbi Spodek to return in fifteen minutes to enjoy the l’chaim together with him and Hersh.

Until Rabbi Spodek told me about Mr. Polin’s comments when Rachel was done speaking, I had never really thought about Hersh coming home. I prayed every day, three, sometimes four times a day, for Hersh and the other hostages’ return, but I never imagined his return. From that day – until late last night – I frequently pictured the Goldberg-Polin family returning to speak to teenagers with Hersh, talking about their experiences and driving home a strong message of keeping hope, prayer, and gratitude for the Jewish people. Most of all, I pictured standing in my office, whisky in hand, toasting a celebratory l’chaim with Jonathan, Rachel, Rabbi Spodek and Hersh. I pictured it with every ounce of my being and knew it would happen.

I never once thought that Hersh wouldn’t return. I thought he was such a valuable hostage that even the Palestinian barbarians wouldn’t be foolish enough to kill him. I assumed he was spending his captivity right next to Yayha Sinwar. I imagined that Sinwar kept Hersh right next to him as the ultimate shield against an Israeli attack. Judaism’s idea of faith is a confidence of the good happening balanced with a realism. Traditional Judaism allows for realism to qualify faith, but it always places faith above pessimism and cynicism. Faith always wins out over doubt, and my faith that Hersh would return safely outweighed any fear that he wouldn’t make it back.

Hersh entered each of our lives over the past eleven months. Like me, millions of people all over the world who had never met Hersh prayed for him and hoped for his return. Hersh’s picture hung in their homes, appeared frequently on their phones and on their computers. We felt he was part of our families and communities even though we had never heard his voice. Hersh’s infectious smile drew us in and made us feel like his friend. Rachel’s stories about Hersh’s respect for them and their Torah observant lifestyle, even when he didn’t lead the exact same life as his parents gave us an insight into Hersh’s character. Rachel’s recounting of Hersh’s love of music and music festivals, along with his addiction to adventurous travel showed us Hersh’s fun side. Hersh seemed to us like the young man we’d like to spend time and share our thoughts together with him.

The American and Anglo-Saxon immigrant community in Israel isn’t a united community that gets together or thinks alike, but it is close and frequently finds issues that hits home for its members. Uncannily Hersh, more than the other hostages, was the most popular hostage the American Anglo community connected to and was most concerned with during the war. Rachel’s American English, her charisma and natural ability to connect to large audiences, and Hersh’s angelic countenance, all drew Americans in Israel and the United States to Hersh’s story.

Americans all over the world were pained to watch the video of Hersh being taken from the roadside bomb shelter he took cover in, to the Palestinian truck. We cringed when it was pointed out to us that Hersh had lost his arm and then we heard the testimony of the survivors who told us of the hell Hersh suffered in the first hours of the attack. Americans were devastated to watch the pain spread over Rachel and Jonathan’s faces as days spread to weeks, and weeks spread to months.

Many Americans around the world were apprehensive when the rumors began that Rachel and Jonathan were going to speak at the Democratic National Convention. With thousands of Pro-Palestinian protestors screeching the most horrific antisemitism outside the convention doors, we were scared they would get into the convention and shout Rachel and Jonathan down. When the crowd broke out into “Bring them home!” Rachel broke down crying in front of millions of people watching all around the world, our fears abated, and we cried along with Rachel.

A respected educator, Rabbi and therapist, Rabbi Dr. Noam Weinberg asked a question in response to the news of Hersh’s execution that has been on my mind for hours, and I hope to use to inspire the reader to think as well. Rav Noam asked, “What do we do now?” Rav Noam’s question speaks to a feeling many of us are experiencing this morning – we feel lost. We are unsure of what to do next. How do we pray, who and what do we pray for? What do we aspire towards in our future?

This isn’t the first time the Jewish people have desperately prayed for the safe return of Jews taken by Palestinian barbarians only to be disappointed when our prayers weren’t answered. Nachshon Waxman, Eyal Yifrach, Gilad Shaar, and Naftali Frankel, were all boys taken by Palestinians, brutally murdered, and remained as our unanswered prayers. Today, Hersh Goldberg-Polin joins that list.

The Jewish world and all who care about Jews are devastated. I began the morning like many others, crossing off a name on our prayer lists. Instead of beseeching God this morning in my prayers for Hersh’s return, I asked God questions I know I’ll never receive answers to and hoped for some sort of comfort for my pain. The Jewish people have a desire for justice, for a deterrent against future attacks, and even for revenge against the Palestinian community that brought this upon us. There’s nothing wrong with those feelings, they are natural and to be expected.

The Jewish people’s despondency they feel in the aftermath of the crushing news will eventually turn to determination to remember Hersh and honor his memory. The Jewish people will move forward from this moment, we will heal, and we will be stronger. Hersh hasn’t come home to us, but he’s come home to the World to Come. Hersh died sanctifying God’s name, and his eternal legacy will be of a Jew who was killed because he represented God and the Jewish people. Hersh Goldberg-Polin will forever live on as a hero of the Jewish people.