Shachar Tzuberi Surfing
Shachar Tzuberi SurfingYoni Kempinski

“So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.”

(Isaiah 41:10)

On a warm sunny afternoon, I walk along the seashore. Bright sunlight glistens in the sky, blinding in intensity. As if insistently, persistently, streaming its light onto the confusion of our earthly world. White light shines from the blueness of the Heavens, sparkles upon the blueness of the sea. The purity of stark whiteness sanctifying the moment.

Waves calmly wash onto the the shore and then roll back out again, in a serene. rhythmical, unceasing motion. As it always was, as it always will be. Irrespective of what is occurring here in the lives of Man. The perpetual movement, the perpetual flow of nature. In continual motion, in continual growth and renewal. As the present becomes the past and a new moment of presentness takes its place. Life in its timeless motion, at once changing, at once constant.

Apparently, despite the tragedy and sorrow of our lives in this Land, the flow of nature continues, unperturbed. Yes, the sun is still brightly shining, and waves are still rolling in at the seashore.

I watch in wonder, transfixed by the magic of the moment, lulled into calmness by the mere motion of the waves, as if rocking in a cradle. The events of the past year are for a few moments dulled, blurred by the tranquility of the seashore.

The waves are roaring majestically, the wind whistling softly. The cry of a seagull may be heard, sharply and persistently, from somewhere above. As the cry of the shofar which we heard only a few weeks ago. From afar, and yet near. Is it the sound of “Tekiah”, the triumphant sound of hope and joy? Or is it the sound of “Shevarim”, the sound of suffering and pain?(Ben Ish Chai). A cry, a plea, for mercy, for deliverance, for peace.

The sound of warplanes flying overhead is a sudden affirmation of the reality we are now living in. The sound fades into the distance, replaced by the calming, soothing roar of breaking waves.

On the seashore, a young man is kite surfing. After a few tries, he catches the breeze with his kite.

I watch in amazement as the lone surfer heads out to sea, adrift upon the sea’s serenity, carried along gaily by the wind. The kite billowing majestically above, his motion in a clear direction, toward somewhere. Does he know where he is going?

I wonder. Is he directing his path, or is his path directed by a force from above? Perhaps, enticed by the promise of quietude and freedom, he is searching for his future in the beckoning calm of the blue sea.

Another surfer is valiantly attempting to alight with his kite. Despite the surfer’s attempts to the contrary, the kite persistently alights above triumphantly, only to come crashing down on the shore. And where is he going? I wonder. And for how long will he struggle with the wind, with the kite, with his fate. Will he ultimately go sailing off into the tantalizing blueness, or will he pack up and go home?

And I watch, as enchantment waves its wand upon the scene, blanketing our earthly world of sorrow. A gentle breeze blows its message of otherworldliness and tranquility. The waves speak a message of hope, of serenity.

It was just Parshat Vayera. The Hebrew word Vayera means “and He appeared”.

“And the Lord appeared to him in the plains of Mamre” (Genesis 18:1) Abraham looks up and sees that “three men were standing beside him” (Genesis 18:2) According to Rashi, God came to Abraham on the third day of his Brit Mila, to visit him and inquire about his welfare.

The word Vayera ’is from the Hebrew root “ra’ah” which means “to see”. What did Abraham see? In what form was God revealed to him? Did Abraham see three men, or did he see the Divine presence? Did he know three angels were before him, or was he accustomed to seeing the Divine which is in Man?

And we? What is the vision before our eyes? What do we see?

At the point between hope and despair, as waves of optimism roll in determinedly, gaily, only to inevitably roll out again, is a glimmer of light still sparkly on the waves? Do we see the touch of the Divine in our lives? Are stars still sparkling in the blackness of night?

Our mind cannot comprehend. Our hearts feel the pain, and go blank. We ask Why, and there is no answer. Perhaps there is no question. Perhaps, we ourselves are called upon to answer. By our actions, by our prayers, by our thoughts, by our emulation of the Divine.

Thoughts turn to whiteness, drifting in a sea of light blue, where all is calm and serene. Where earthly matters are in the hands of the Divine, and our prayers, supplications are before the Heavenly Throne. All is white, and the angels are singing. Perhaps they are perched on the white clouds, lingering here among us now, for comfort.

In the distance, we can see that which is infinite, boundless, immeasurable and incomprehensible. There are no questions, there are no answers. There just is. As always was, as always will be.

It was just the month of Tishrei. The month of introspection, of holiness, of prayer. When we turn our gaze upward, our hearts upward, in supplication. For our Redemption.

This year on Sukkot, we were again outside our homes. With the stars to light the night, with the sun shining by day. And yet, this year, the voices of the children were muted, the sound of children’s laughter mingled with silence, their voices seemed almost muffed. During the day, I watched as the bright colors of the sukkah would merge and swirl. Colors faded, and grayness took their place. The border between day and night seemed a bit murky, as colors turned to shades of black and white.

Each year, the children hung two white doves above the entrance to the sukkah. Last year, at the end of Sukkot, they flew away. We are still awaiting their return. For a return to life and laughter. For a return to kindness and peacefulness.

Time is still on hold, a year later. Pain merges with joy, song with weeping. We try to speak, and there is only silence. Despair and grief alternate with faith and hope, and a hazy numbness overtakes both.

The reality between Truth as we know it, and truth of our senses juxtapose. And then, what then?


From somewhere within I hear the words of the psalmist

“My God, my God, why have You forsaken me?

…I cry out by day, but You do not answer, by night but I find no rest…”

(Psalm 22:1-2)

It was the morning of Sukkot and my grandchild was awake. He had been dreaming with eyes awake for a long time, he said, watching a vision of Jerusalem on the wall of our sukkah. Jerusalem, the city of Peace.

Which Jerusalem was he seeing? The one depicted on the walls of the sukkah? The one which is over the hills a few kilometers away? Or the Jerusalem of Above?

One day the earthly and the Heavenly Jerusalem will be united, and peace will bathe the earth with its glow.

And until then, until that time…

I wonder. What would our life be like now if we knew, that Divine Protection, Divine Love is surrounding us, despite. Despite the unending unremitting pain, the tragedy and sorrow that accompanies our lives now, in the Land of Promise.

What would our life be like now if we knew, that our hand is in the hand of God, who is helping us to go on our path through life. Whose strength is holding us upright.

As the kite surfer, being pulled along by the kite which is holding him aloft.

“For I am the Lord your God who takes hold of your right hand and says to you, Do not fear; I will help you” (Isaiah 41:13)

What if we had the ability, as did Abraham, to see. Would our lives be different? Would the path be different? Would bewilderment and confusion be replaced by serenity and faith?

From somewhere within, or is it above, there is strength, courage. A spark glows silently in the dark, and refuses to be dimmed.

A vision of the World to Come, a vision of the world as it Could Be, as it is Meant to Be, merges with a vision of the World as Is.

May we always keep within our hearts the ability to dream.

May we go through life with the knowledge, that our hand is in the Hand of God, that we are being guided, directed, protected.

A surreal calm fills my soul. The mesmerizing stillness of the sky, the serene flow of the waves, on a sunny afternoon. A lone bird soars by, high in the heavens. Perhaps he is on his way, to plead our case On High.

May we merit Divine deliverance and protection, as it is written “Remember the days of old….as an eagle that awakens her nest, hovering over her fledglings, spreads her wings, takes them and carries them on her pinions.” (Deut. 32:7-11)