Eliran

Mar 28, 2001 - Eliran Rosenberg-Zayat, 15, of Givat Shmuel and Naftali Lanzkorn, 13, of Petah Tikva were killed in a suicide bombing at the Mifgash Hashalom ("peace stop") gas station several hundred meters from an IDF roadblock near the entrance to Kalkilya, east of Kfar Saba. Four people were injured. Hamas claimed responsibility for the attack.

The above quote is from the "Victims of Palestinian Terror Since September 2000" section on the website of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs of Israel. The Zayat family lives two doors down from us, so last night we went to their house for Eliran's yahrzeit. Two of his sisters, Shiran (age 13) and Noga (age 8) gave a stirring presentation about God's will. We do not have to thank God for doing something that is painful to us, but He definitely has his reasons, which we cannot understand. That was their message. Rav Hadaya, the Rav of our yishuv, gave a shiur, before and after which Refael Zayat (Eliran's father) said kaddish. A fitting and appropriate way to raise the neshama of their son.

I have come to know the Zayat family somewhat because they have a son, Ziv, in Bezalel's class. Ziv has a cochlear implant and wears a hearing aid, and he and Bezalel get along very well. Michal (the mother) is soft spoken and sensitive to others. She has even offered to make phone calls for me to the necessary services if I find the Hebrew too overwhelming. Every week she hosts a shiur in her house for women given by Rav Hadaya to enhance our spirituality. Shirin ran a camp this past summer, which Leah attended and loved. Hila (age 15) regularly babysits for my neighbor when she works in the afternoon. We had no idea about Eliran. The Zayat family does not walk around depressed or shrouded in mourning. They are a vibrant part of our growing community.

We sat with Refael and Michal at a recent wedding, and they asked us how old Ruby was when his father died. Ziv, they said, is obsessed with death, and asked Bezalel if he ever had anyone close to him die. Bezalel said that his Zaide died when his Abba was nine, information which Ziv then passed on to his parents. Death is a part of their life, said Michal, and they then told us about Eliran. Ziv does not know quite how to deal with the brother he never knew.

This morning I asked Bezalel if Ziv ever talks about death with him. Bezalel said that they don't talk about those things, and so I told him that Michal told me about the question Ziv asked him. Oh yes, said Bezalel, and I told him that Zaide died and he told me that his brother died when he was 20 as a soldier in the army - Arabs killed him.

I feel blessed that I can still shelter him from the cold, horrible truth. I pray to God to continue to support the Zayat family for the sacrifice they have made.

A Normal, Everyday Occurance

Today, I needed to travel into a major city for a conference. Rena came along. When I got there, the conference manager asked me whether we had eaten lunch yet. We had not. So he (graciously) gave us vouchers and told us to go downstairs to the hotel restaurant, which we did.
We went downstairs and found ourselves plates and took food. Really good, tasty food. Fish, salads, desert - all at a wonderful buffet.
Sitting at a table, eating my lunch I realized that if I had been in America, where would I have been able to have precisely the same experience: eating on real plates, in the main cafeteria of a major hotel at a normal conference?
Answer: nowhere else in the world.
Except in Israel.

I Married a Rebbetzin. Still.

For a number of weeks, we've had a good number of guests for Shabbat. This is great, as we love guests, but it can also get somewhat overwhelming. After two weeks where we had seven students from Midreshet Moriah, and a lunch with fifteen people, both Rena and I decided that we needed a break. So last Shabbat, we didn't have any guests. It was a real, nice, quiet family Shabbat.
And then, on Motzei Shabbat Rena approached me wondering who we should have for Shabbat next week: should it be this family or that? After considering inviting different Shabbat guests, I turned back to Rena and said, "You know, we don't have to invite anyone next Shabbat at all."
Rena looked perplexed.

A little background: When we lived in Michigan, we considered hosting people at our house for Shabbat part of our roles as rabbi and rebbetzin. We loved hosting guests, and found it a wonderful way to learn about members of the shul and community in a personal and intimate way. For this reason, we never really had very large meals of three or four families, and set our limit at two other families. Every so often, we would just be tired, and need a break. So, after four or five weeks in a row of having guests for Shabbat, we'd take a week off and have a quiet Shabbat. But then, the next week, we'd get right back to work and invite another round of guests.

(Back to the present) Rena says to me, genuinely puzzled, "What do you mean we don't have to have guests?" And then it dawns on her. She's not the rebbetzin here. I'm not the rabbi here. (note the order). We don't have to do anything, and if we want to take two or three or five weeks in a row "off", we're free to act as we please.
Not that Rena could stand to go so long without guests.
As I always told people, she didn't marry a rabbi. I married a rebbetzin.