From the Borehamwood Vigil Friday 16th August 2024
Friends,
We stand here together for our 43rd vigil, poised on the precipice.
Everything seems to be hanging in the balance.
As we await news from the latest round of talks in Doha, we hope and pray for the immediate and safe return of our 115 brothers and sisters.
At the beginning of the week, a few of us headed to Brighton to join Adam and Heidi for their local vigil. Our boys, Eddie and Gidi, did us proud, sharing some thoughts with those gathered. When Adam spoke here a couple of weeks ago, we heard from him about his personal motivation to gather together and how they’ve been subjected to awful hatred locally. Yet as we stood in the middle of Palmira Gardens in Hove, the sun beaming down, it felt like we were basking in a little slither of heaven on earth. It was quite odd really, given the reason we were there. But actually, I think it was once again a reminder of the contradiction we feel in our lives every day. We’re sad, we’re hurting, and we want our hostages home, yet life has to go on here and we need to celebrate birthdays, anniversaries, holidays.
Like today, it’s my Mum’s birthday and thank G-d, I’m lucky, I get to see her and celebrate with her. But for hundreds of families in Israel and across the diaspora, since 7th October, they will never get to do that again. It’s not something we can take for granted. It certainly isn’t for Romi Gonen, our adopted hostage at BES. On Sunday she will be 24 years old, yet again, another hostage turning a year older in captivity. Like Shosh, I was struck by the images of Romi – there’s just something about her – on my visit to Israel back in January. Little did I know that like me she loves to dance and loves leopard print. While we were standing there in Kikar Hatufim, hostage square, her Mum was being interviewed by Israeli TV, distraught, she could hardly speak. Now, 7 months on, she is calling for everyone to wear leopard print for Romi on Sunday, to have a l’chaim for her, drink a cocktail, and do something in Romi’s merit so that PG, she will be reunited with us all very soon.
On Tuesday, it was Tisha B’Av, one of the saddest days in the Jewish calendar where we mourn the destruction of the temple, the expulsion of the Jews from Spain and many other tragedies that our people have suffered on that date. Now, I don’t know about you, but my social media feed was full of people commenting on how this year, Tisha B’Av was even sadder, that crying tears was so much easier, we’ve never really stopped.
Listening to the evocative words we read in megillat eicha (the book of lamentations), “the joy of our heart is ceased, our dance is turned into mourning”, and I watched online as thousands of people gathered together at the Kottel, young and old, frum and less observant in prayer and song, hoping that their voices would be heard, doing it for those who can’t. What was it that united them? A need to come together? To mourn together? to be united? Or maybe all three?
Many hostage families shared their stories again this week, they called for us to fast, even if you had never fasted before, to do it for those who can’t. However hard it was in the heat; I was reminded that it wasn’t a patch on what they must be experiencing in captivity. It doesn’t bear thinking about.
What feels even stranger is that usually, when the three weeks end and we can celebrate again, listen to music, party and let our hair down, it’s a return to normality. Sadly, this ‘normality’ is not one we want to be stuck in. It’s tough, a strain, it feels heavy. But I saw something that inspired me yesterday, it was a picture of two young women, Ofir and Diana, you may recognise them if I showed you a picture. They were dressed in the blue and white uniforms of the Israeli Olympic team, proudly wearing the silver medals around their necks they had won for artistic gymnastics just last week in Paris. In the next picture, they are once again dressed in uniform, this time it’s the green of the IDF as they return to their bases and serve in the technology and logistics unit. What an unbelievable sense of pride and inspiration – it’s their normality too. We can do this; we will bring them home.
This week, we’re going to do something a little bit different, in a moment, I will read a letter from the family of Ilan Weiss, who is being held captive in Gaza, and then Ronit will read out the names of all the hostages – many of the names will be familiar but listen carefully, try to remember their names, to keep them in your prayers. And finally, we’ll hear from our surprise guest, Hadassa of Instagram fame @therealhadassa who will lift us a little and leave us with something to think about.
Before we do, as ever a huge thank you to the CST for their support. Please keep sharing and don’t forget to wear batman4bibas and leopard print for Romi.
I want to end with one final thought ahead of the weekend, as we head into Shabbat, called Shabbat Nachamu, the Shabbat of Consolation, named because of the opening lines of the haftorah, “Be comforted, be comforted my people” and tough as it is, we are an incredibly strong people. In the words of the song released by British rock band Chumbawamba back in 1997, “I get knocked down but I get up again, you are never gonna keep me down”. Let’s remember that as we hold our breath again, as we scour the news trying to find something a bit more impartial, waiting to see what this week will bring. We are strong, we are going to dance again, to sing again, to celebrate again and we will do that PG when they bring them all home.