Faith. It's always been a challenge. As one gets older, the black and white seems to fade, perhaps a little too often, to a shade of gray. Life has its tests. But there are defining moments; moments in one's life that put things in perspective. I recently experienced a moment like that. I was fortunate enough to have spent a Shabbat in Netzarim in Gaza.
Prior to a recent Shabbat, my only experience in the Gaza Strip was Chol Hamoed Pesach this past year. I had gone with my wife and children to be part of a rally in Gush Katif. I walked away moved, but deep down, I confess, I was unsure. Were the people living in Gush Katif capable of having such tremendous faith? Were they simply in denial? Either way, I walked away from the rally feeling a certain sadness for them.
A few weeks ago, I had the opportunity to spend Shabbat with the people in Netzarim. I was prepared for broken spirits. I was prepared to witness the personal confrontation and struggles the people in Netzarim experience as they await the next steps. And yet, with all the mental and emotional preparation, I wasn't prepared at all for what awaited me.
Instead of broken spirits, I saw faith personified. I saw a community who believe that ultimately, decisions are not made by us, by the government or by our enemies. In fact, they are not even made by our friends. They are made ultimately by G-d. It sounds nice on paper. It would be nice to say that I have, and always had, that level of faith - but I had not realized how much stronger I can become until my trip to Netzarim.
I thought that faith is something we should all have, something I have mastered throughout my adult life. At the same time, I thought, while all of life itself is a miracle, we are not living in Biblical times, and there is no splitting of the Red Sea-type miracles occurring on a daily basis.
When asked what we can do to help in Netzarim, the answers given were so simple, so basic.
"Be kind to your neighbors."
"Increase the chesed you do."
"Pray."
Not said in a lost or broken tone. Not said with some irrational fervor by fanatics, but said by regular people, men and women, mothers and fathers, sons and daughters. Said in a suggestive, respectful response. Such a basic fundamental thought.
The things that are right in front of us are the things we often overlook.
What I learned on that Shabbat is that I was wrong. Miracles occur daily. All around us. We just need to open our eyes and see them. Nachshon ben Aminadav took great steps of faith when entering Yam Suf until the water reached his neck. Only then did the sea split. Then, we followed.
Isn't it possible that the residents of the Gaza Strip, residents of our land, are standing with the water up to their necks? Isn't it possible the sea is about to split? Are we going to follow?
Thank you, Netzarim, for the dose of perspective I had not realized I needed.
My initial impression on Chol Hamoed was right. This situation is a combination of faith and denial. I have been taught a powerful lesson. I will try my best to be more attentive and appreciative to the power of faith, and do what I can to earn its rewards. And I will try harder not to be in denial of the power of chesed, tefillah, G-d and His People - and, of course, miracles. May we all merit them.
Prior to a recent Shabbat, my only experience in the Gaza Strip was Chol Hamoed Pesach this past year. I had gone with my wife and children to be part of a rally in Gush Katif. I walked away moved, but deep down, I confess, I was unsure. Were the people living in Gush Katif capable of having such tremendous faith? Were they simply in denial? Either way, I walked away from the rally feeling a certain sadness for them.
A few weeks ago, I had the opportunity to spend Shabbat with the people in Netzarim. I was prepared for broken spirits. I was prepared to witness the personal confrontation and struggles the people in Netzarim experience as they await the next steps. And yet, with all the mental and emotional preparation, I wasn't prepared at all for what awaited me.
Instead of broken spirits, I saw faith personified. I saw a community who believe that ultimately, decisions are not made by us, by the government or by our enemies. In fact, they are not even made by our friends. They are made ultimately by G-d. It sounds nice on paper. It would be nice to say that I have, and always had, that level of faith - but I had not realized how much stronger I can become until my trip to Netzarim.
I thought that faith is something we should all have, something I have mastered throughout my adult life. At the same time, I thought, while all of life itself is a miracle, we are not living in Biblical times, and there is no splitting of the Red Sea-type miracles occurring on a daily basis.
When asked what we can do to help in Netzarim, the answers given were so simple, so basic.
"Be kind to your neighbors."
"Increase the chesed you do."
"Pray."
Not said in a lost or broken tone. Not said with some irrational fervor by fanatics, but said by regular people, men and women, mothers and fathers, sons and daughters. Said in a suggestive, respectful response. Such a basic fundamental thought.
The things that are right in front of us are the things we often overlook.
What I learned on that Shabbat is that I was wrong. Miracles occur daily. All around us. We just need to open our eyes and see them. Nachshon ben Aminadav took great steps of faith when entering Yam Suf until the water reached his neck. Only then did the sea split. Then, we followed.
Isn't it possible that the residents of the Gaza Strip, residents of our land, are standing with the water up to their necks? Isn't it possible the sea is about to split? Are we going to follow?
Thank you, Netzarim, for the dose of perspective I had not realized I needed.
My initial impression on Chol Hamoed was right. This situation is a combination of faith and denial. I have been taught a powerful lesson. I will try my best to be more attentive and appreciative to the power of faith, and do what I can to earn its rewards. And I will try harder not to be in denial of the power of chesed, tefillah, G-d and His People - and, of course, miracles. May we all merit them.