To say that our nation has been on an emotional roller coaster this past year would be an understatement. Each year, we approach Elul with a mix of excitement and maybe even some trepidation. But usually we are knee-deep in our summer adventures and we don’t pay so much attention to the tail-end days of the month. This year, I don’t think I’m alone in saying this, but I don’t remember having a September.
All of a sudden, I have the time for the proper introspection that I likely should have leveraged every year of my life. But part of me doesn’t want the time, as I wind up in a pretty dark place. Because then I need to face the reality of how my nation ended up still in such deep despair as our precious land and our nation is still at war. All I can do is wonder if there was something about my tefillot for my nation that were just not enough last year—so how am I supposed to come up with a better plan for this year? When I think about all the tzar my nation has gone through, I simply feel overwhelmed.
Over the past couple of weeks, the ups and downs have been so intense. From the rescue of a loving father to discovering the unbelievably horrifying murder of six more hostages, one just doesn’t know how to place these emotions. On the one hand, we feel so much hakarat hatov to Hkb”h for all the hostages who did come home—not to mention all the incredible nissim we are hearing about from the battleground. And on the other hand, we feel despondent—and dare I say—maybe we feel angry—because we can’t wrap our heads around why Hashem still needs these hostages to be suffering more than anyone could even comprehend.
But then you take a moment to hear the words of the families of the hostages and your emunah is instantaneously restored. You then see that the only way to navigate this nisayon is through emunah and bitachon and the work they do to strengthen their relationship with Hashem. These families come from all walks of life, and yet the theme of how they are powering through this experience is the same. By no means is anyone saying that this is easy; digging that deeply into our souls requires an introspection that can bring up so much more “stuff.” Often, when doing this soul searching, one can feel that they have just not done enough to support the families of the hostages.
While we are all davening day in and day out, sometimes our hishtadlus has to take a different approach. While there are a number of incredible organizations doing so much for all aspects of this war, one in particular is unique in their theme: Hope Is Mandatory.
From the financial support they provide the families of the hostages to the guidance on practical action items that each individual can do, the organization’s name speaks for itself. I had the privilege of attending a cooking demo as a fundraising event for Hope Is Mandatory during the Nine Days. Before I attended, I felt a bit uneasy about attending a social event during the Nine Days, but my apprehension quickly vanished. The evening included tefillah and tears as we gathered together as strong Jewish women to simply learn new ways to feed our loved ones. This truly epitomized my experience of this whole year. We are all in a constant juxtaposition of emotions as we feel that we are simply not doing enough, but we all are so blessed with busy lives of truly good things that we are so very grateful for.
I’ve always had a hard time with the word “hope” and how best to define it. Hope means that you have a desired expectation of a certain experience. A person has to have a certain level of emunah and bitachon in order to have hope—almost as if hope is a privilege and not a right. And while we all yearn for hope, ultimately we need to believe that Hashem’s plan may look quite different than we had hoped for. While this is so true on a national level, it’s of course deeply meaningful on a personal level. Each year we approach the new year with our big plans for what we hope for, because we think we know what is best for us, but more often than not, that is simply not the case.
Nothing can be harder to comprehend than understanding that Hashem and I have different visions for what life is supposed to be. So we dig deep and tap into that emunah and maybe change our perspective on the meaning of hope. Possibly hope is the understanding that sometimes my vision and Hashem’s vision do not always align, but it certainly does not mean that Hashem’s plan is not exactly how it’s supposed to be.
As we can simply see this as we are now past the shloshim for hostages we hoped would come back to us alive and well. It’s almost as if our nation has gone through our aveilut process. We are still struggling to come to terms with this new truth, which we prayed and hoped would never become our reality.
I can’t help but look at the aveilim themselves for the much-needed dose of inspiration I need to figure out how to come to terms with my approach to this new year. To believe that your child is now free or to now accept Torah and mitzvot because your child is now home despite no longer being physically alive, is next-level emunah. So we turn to organizations like Hope Is Mandatory to learn how we can do more on the ground for our precious hostages, and we turn to the precious families and the immense chizuk they have displayed to inspire us to be mechazek our emunah and in truly believing in Hashem’s master plan for 5785.
Rachel Zamist has lived in the Passaic community for the past 32 years and has watched it grow and transition. She is the beaming mother of Mimi, a student at Rachel’s own alma mater, YBH.
