I allow my mind to linger on a close moment with friends as a teenager, a warm moment sharing small thoughts with siblings or an emotional hug with my children. I then switch over and try to empathize with the friends, the siblings and the parents of Eyal, Gilad and Naftali.
We spent nearly three weeks together. Our thoughts, our hopes, our prayers and actions were there with you, wondering how they were being treated, were they were being held, what we could do – but mostly refreshing our screens wondering when we would hear news.
For three weeks we worried, last night we all cried and today we all mourn. Sometimes it hurts to be a Jew. What would my facebook feed look like, my sleep have been like if our three brothers were just a foreign sad statistic? Instead I and a closely knit family, millions strong, hurt today.
I make no consoling remarks. There are none that can diminish the pain. I only know that while in good times we may think we need no one, in sad times we are reminded how lucky we are to have family. Yes it was a stressful three weeks, and the anguish now is deep. At the same time underlying love, the elevating bond revealed is a clear window into the soul of who we are as a nation and the indefinable entity that we are so lucky to be a part of.
If there is one gift Eyal, Gilad and Naftali gave us, it is this mirror they provided to who and what we are. As the Rebbe taught and championed for decades: we are one. It doesn’t matter where your grandparents came from, what clothing you wear, or even how much observance you and I share, we are, and always will be, a family.