This is a difficult article for me to write. Just the same, I have decided to write it. I feel I owe it to you, my extended Jewish family, my brothers and sisters in Am Yisrael.
You held my hands. You never let me go. Even in the densest darkness, you were there.
What is life all about? Most of us tend to avoid that question. We just glide along on the highway of our existence, confident our GPS will protect us from getting lost on murky roads.
But life is strange. There are no guarantees and there is always the unexpected. In a blink of an eye, everything can change.
I should know this as well as anyone. I have lived through traumatic experiences not once but many times. The Nazi occupation of the city of my birth in Hungary, the menacing walls of the ghetto, the bloodshed, the senseless beatings, the deportations in cattle cars without provisions for food, drink, or hygienic facilities.
In my books as well as in my articles I have written extensively on those subjects.
But it was not only during those cataclysmic times that I experienced pain and suffering. Like many my age, I have witnessed my revered parents and beloved husband struggle with illness. I stood by helplessly trying to ease their suffering.
No, I was not a stranger to pain. Early on I learned that all this is part of life. We have to deal with it. We have no other choice.
After the nightmare of the Holocaust I, along with so many others, hoped that the civilized world would wake up and shudder at the Satanic evil that had been perpetrated and take steps to ensure it would never happen again.
I had hoped a new generation would try to tame man’s savage side and build a culture and society on the pillars of justice, kindness, good will, and generosity.
But it never happened that way. If anything, the world has descended lower into the depths of the jungle and people are using 21st-century technology and social media to advance evil.
Even so, as Jews we never give up living with the hope of creating a new and better present and future. Indeed, that has been our calling as Jews – to bring the light of Hashem to all of mankind and thereby create a better world.
Those of us who have traveled life’s pathways know the roads are bumpy and hard, with danger lurking everywhere. Nevertheless, at least in our personal lives we continue to live with the hope that the roads will be smoothed over and we will arrive safely to our destination without any mishaps.
We embark on our journeys with trust and confidence. Our goals are all mapped out. Our calendar is full. Some of us even think we are indestructible. And then, as if from nowhere – the blink of an eye, a flash of lightning, and our dreams are crushed.
Each person has his or her own flash of lightning. In my case it was sudden and unexpected illness. For a brief while it appeared that it would, chas v’shalom, take over my life.
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Those of you who know me know I am a “runner.” No, I’ve never participated in a marathon but I did dedicate my life to running for Hashem – trying to carry His mitzvahs to all our people in every part of the globe. That mission never left me.
Fifty years ago when I established Hineni, one of the world’s first outreach movements, I dared to do the impossible. I was a young rebbetzin going into uncharted territory.
