It's Rochel Imeinu's yahrtzeit today, and I can't help but feel her presence weighing heavy on my heart.
As we, in Israel, woke up to the news of four more fallen IDF soldiers, at the very start of their lives, with rockets raining down on Israel and sirens blaring, I imagine Rochel's pained cries echoing through the ages.
This woman knew suffering like few others. Passed over for her sister Leah on her wedding night, forced to share the love of her life, Yaakov, with another woman. And then the agony of being barren, while her sister birthed child after child. Her life was a constant struggle.
Yet through it all, Rochel maintained an unwavering faith. When the Jews were exiled, the rabbis tell us Rochel's grave in Bethlehem became a site of pilgrimage, where she pleaded with God on behalf of her people. Her heartbroken wails, "A voice is heard on high, lamentation and bitter weeping, Rachel weeping for her children," haunt us to this day.
In these dark times, as Israeli families huddle in bomb shelters, I can't help but feel Rochel's tears falling anew. She knows this pain, this anguish of a mother fearing for her children. The parents who have to bury their 19 year old son, the mothers waiting for their soldier sons to come home from Gaza and Lebanon. The sheer terror of knowing they might never see their sons again. The moms who shudder every time a neighbor knocks at the door, because it might be the IDF ...
But Rochel's legacy isn't just one of suffering. It's also of resilience, of unwavering faith in the face of the abyss. She didn't let her personal trials embitter her or make her give up. She channeled that pain into a mother's love for her people.
In these trying times, we need Rochel Imeinu more than ever. We need her capacity for empathy, her well of compassion that knows no bounds. We need her to once again lift her voice to the heavens, to be the steady hand guiding us through the storm.
Rochel's story is not just ancient history - it's a living, breathing testament to the Jewish spirit. And as the rockets fly and the world turns a blind eye, I take solace knowing that Rochel's eternal tears are falling for us still.
Please Rochel our dear mother, this isn's the first time we have needed you to scream to Hashem. Our history is filled with pain and pogroms, with bitter expulsions, torture and devastation.
But it's getting too much. You know that. We know that.
RAISE YOUR VOICE AND SCREAM FOR US. TELL HASHEM IT'S TIME FOR THE GEULAH. AD MOSAI? How much more can we bear?
