To the men who pray by the empty chairs
The men who pray by the empty chairs
There is a group of men who pray
By a long row of empty chairs
And every Friday, as we drive by, we see them there
Last week was the first time we decided to pull over and get out of the car
I hadn’t realized just how far
My walk past these chairs would be
Chair after chair for a mile was all I could see.
But as I walked by this small group of men who had come there to pray
I stopped in my tracks when I heard one of them say:
“Every minute of every day
That we think about the hostages
That we speak of them
And pray for their return
We are helping to bring them home
We are sending the message that they are not alone.”
Then the men began to sing a sad but hopeful song
They followed it by dancing in a way that was just joyous enough and not at all wrong
I was overcome with emotion as I continued my way, stopping to look at each and every empty chair
But I realized there
That the tears I had were not of hope; they were of despair
I so wanted to believe like the men who pray by the chairs do
But all I found myself doing was asking each photo on a chair, “Will we ever see you?”
I left with a heavy heart
Heavier in a way than I had from the start.
And then on Monday morning, we woke up to the news — the impossible suddenly became real
A celebration we could all deeply feel
The rescue mission that brought two of them home
And they said to the soldiers, “You warmed our hearts. You had not left us there alone.”
In that moment, I thought back to the men who sang their hopeful song
And realized that I had gotten the idea of hope all wrong
Hope is not for when things are looking up
It is not even about the half-empty or half-full cup
Hope exists for the darkest hour
When you pray and pray and pray with all your power
And you shout to the world that no matter what I’m told
I will believe
I will imagine that they will live
I will envision that moment they reunite with family
And however painful life can be, I will never give up on humanity.
This hope turns into fuel for the universe
To take even the things that are the most perverse
And put the pieces back together
This lesson in life, I will always remember.
So, to the men who pray by the empty chairs – you got it right
No matter how dark the long night
One must never ever cease to imagine the light.
A row of chairs for the hostages in Reut. (courtesy)