Elegy for Our Best and Bravest Youth, Killed in Nepal
Elegy for Our Best and Bravest Youth, Killed in Nepal

This elegy for the Israeli youths who died in the Nepal natural disaster was composed by the rabbi of the town of Ofra in Binyamin and appeared in the Makor Rishon Hebrew newspaper.

The Simchat Torah (Rejoicing of the Torah) holiday had just ended, but the news was more fitting for the Fast of the Ninth of Av. More and more of the best of our young men and the most wonderful of our young women had met their deaths confronting the stronger forces of nature. They had barely finished their outstanding military service, in which they had often carried out highly dangerous missions for their land and its people, when they enlisted in "the great trek" – the trip to physically challenging areas in Peru or India or Nepal  - as if it were a compulsory draft that may not be passed up.

One's heart aches along with the broken hearts of the families of those young people who died in Peru, Nepal and other sites. It is not easy to raise questions as this time, and certainly there is no thought of pointing an accusing finger, not at them and not at anyone else. Everyone does it and the best and the most generous of them do not dare go against the tide.  It is a strong tidal wave, drawing them in its wake, hard to resist. But Israeli society has got to ask itself several hard questions.

Our love for our children and the powerful desire for them to enjoy life, experience exciting adventures, not to lack for anything on land and in the heavens – has become a dangerous social phenomenon. All over the world thousands of unscrupulous guides and adventure-providers trade cynically with the lives of our trekking children. Nepalese and Peruvian Hebrew-speaking guides convince each youngster that everything is safe and "everything will be just fine" for a handful of dollars.

"It will be okay, brother", is the most popular idiom in these tourist spots. The problem is that they learned these dangerous words from us, from our children.  They come from IDF tradition, from the Golani Brigade. And our youth are not just mouthing words; after all, it is only yesterday that they were holding on to the steering wheel of a tank or an advanced fighter jet that cost billions.  And knew everything would be fine. The strong feeling of security and the responsibility with which they were entrusted can be misleading.

In South America "they must" travel the "Death Route" a 14 hour trek during which one sees death face to face every minute, and where if a car comes the other way, the bus has to have one of its wheels in the air. The prayer service in the Chabad House the next day will be heavenly, but only a hairsbreadth stands between that service and actual ascent to the heavens.

These words are written with an aching heart. Our mutual responsibility makes it incumbent upon us to do everything we can for those who are far away and we do. We are experts in every kind of airborne rescue and evacuation, but we have not rescued our own selves from ourselves. We have not succeeded in teaching the feeling of satisfaction one can receive from being extra careful.  The thought of forgoing something, the expression "I was here but didn't do this because it was a crazy idea" is used much too rarely.

I know I am not young anymore and probably don't really understand some aspects of the experiences on these treks, but perhaps it is time to think of alternate experiences.

And if they must travel, the itinerary must be upgraded. The main thing is the giving experience not the feeling of danger. Let us continue to serve the greater  world- with units that join the battle against poverty and ignorance, to rehabilitate refugees, arrive in places where disasters took place, where the most indigent people in the world live, to those tried by illness, to the challenge of general education. Let us stop singing the children's song whose refrain is "I love myself to death", limit the "selfies" that have taken over our consciousness and occupy ourselves with tikkun olam.

"And may the Almighty wipe away our tears".

Translated by Rochel Sylvetsky