It wasn’t the way we envisioned or hoped. We so wanted to see Hersh Goldberg-Polin reunited with his family. No family should have to suffer as they did. Perhaps we, in America, identified more with them because they and Hersh are American, and because we heard Hersh’s parents speak so many times. Perhaps we felt it more because Rachel, Hersh’s mother, tugged at our emotions by openly personifying the Jewish mother who will stop at nothing for her child. Hersh’s parents traveled, spoke, begged, encouraged, and basically didn’t leave a stone unturned in their tireless efforts to get Hersh out of the Gaza inferno. But to our chagrin and national pain, that’s not the way Hersh was reunited with his family.

Along with five other precious hostages who suffered together for 332 days, Hersh was murdered, just hours before the IDF was able to reach them. The six bodies were brought back to Israel for burial.

The poignant words of the Navi Yirmiyah that we read in the haftarah of the second day of Rosh HaShanah came to mind: “A voice is heard on high, Rachel is crying for her children. She refuses to be consoled for her children because they are not here.”

Yet, in her incredible eulogy, Rachel expressed gratitude (!) for the gift of her son:

“I am so grateful to G-d. And I want to do hakaras ha’tov and thank G-d right now in front of all of you for giving me this magnificent present of my Hersh. For 23 years, I was privileged to have the most stunning honor to be Hersh’s mama. I’ll take it and say thank you. I just wish it had been for longer.”

The six grieving families, along with every other shattered family since October 7, have wittingly and unwittingly inspired us with their relentless dedication and refusal to give up on their loved ones. Hope is very much a Jewish trait. So is the ability to forge on in the face of adversity and untold anguish.

In Parshas VaYeira, the Torah relates that after Hagar was banished from the home of Avraham and Sarah, Hagar’s young son Yishmael became fatally ill. The pasuk relates that Hagar “cast him under one of the shrubs, for she said I will not see the death of the child.”

Rabbi Samson Rafael Hirsch comments:

“Hagar’s whole behavior… typifies the unrefined Chamite nature. A Jewish mother would never abandon her child, even if all she could do for him would be to speak softly to him, to soothe him, if only for a millionth part of a second. One who abandons a child and does nothing because “she cannot bear to see the child’s misery” does not act out of compassion. Such conduct reflects the cruel egotism of a brutish character. True humanity is marked by a sense of duty that is capable of mastering even the strongest of emotions. A sense of duty makes one forget his own painful feelings and enables him to extend help and assistance, even if one can do no more than give the comfort of one’s compassionate presence…

“All of the foregoing shows that Hagar completely lost her head when overcome with her own grief. A mother descending from Avraham would never behave toward her child in such a manner.”

The inhumanity of our enemies is truly unbelievable. The only reason it’s not downright shocking is because we are aware of similar terror subjected on our people throughout our long and painful exile. We are shocked only because we are naive in thinking it wouldn’t happen in 2024.

Rachel concluded her eulogy:

“Okay, sweet boy, go now on your journey. I hope it’s as good as the trips you dreamed about, because finally, my sweet boy, finally, finally, finally, FINALLY!, you’re free!

“I will love you, and I will miss you every single day for the rest of my life. But you’re right here. I know you’re right here.

“I just have to teach myself how to feel you in a different way. And, Hersh, there’s one last thing I need you to do for us. Now I need you to help us stay strong. And I need you to help us survive.”

This week, I was reading Stories from the Land of Israel by Chanan Morrison about Rabbi Avraham Yitzchak HaKohen Kook zt”l, whose yahrzeit is 3 Elul.

Six months after the 1929 Arab riot and massacre, Rav Kook spoke at a memorial event in the Yeshurun Central Synagogue in Yerushalayim. In light of this week’s tragic events, I found his words to be so applicable and encouraging:

*****

The holy martyrs of Chevron do not need a memorial service. The Jewish people can never forget the holy and pure souls who were slaughtered by murderers and vile thugs.

Rather, we must remember and remind the Jewish people not to forget the city of the Patriarchs. The people must know what Chevron means to us.

We have an ancient tradition that “The actions of the fathers are signposts for their descendants.” When the weak-hearted spies arrived at Hebron, they were frightened by the fierce nations who lived in the land. But “Kalev quieted the people for Moshe. He said, ‘We must go forth and conquer the land. We can do it.” (BaMidbar 13:30)

Despite the terrible tragedy that took place in Chevron, we announce to the world, “Our strength is now like our strength was then.” We will not abandon our holy places and sacred aspirations. Chevron is the city of our fathers, the city of the Machpeilah cave where our Patriarchs are buried. It is the city of David, the cradle of our sovereign monarchy.

Those who discourage the ones trying to rebuild the Jewish community in Chevron with arguments of political expedience; those who scorn and say, “What are those wretched Jews doing?” Those who refuse to help rebuild Chevron – they are attacking the very roots of our people. In the future, they will have to give account for their actions. If ruffians and hooligans have repaid our kindness with malice, we have only one eternal response: Jewish Chevron will once again be built, in honor and glory!

The inner meaning of Chevron is to draw strength and galvanize ourselves with the power of Netzach Yisrael, Eternal Israel.

That proud Jew, Kalev, announced years later, “I am still strong... As my strength was then, so is my strength now” (Joshua 14:11). We, too, announce to the world: our strength now is as our strength was then. We shall reestablish Chevron in even greater glory, with peace and security for every Jew. With G-d’s help, we will merit to see Chevron completely rebuilt, speedily in our days.

*****

Our collective heart is broken and aches for the pain of the six families. But our response will be as the Jewish people have always responded – with greater conviction and dedication to our cause.

“Behold a people that rises like a lioness and raises itself like a lion. It does not lie down until it eats its prey and drinks the blood of the slain.” (BaMidbar 23:24)


Rabbi Dani Staum, LMSW, is a popular speaker, columnist, and author. He is a rebbe at Heichal HaTorah in Teaneck, NJ. and principal of Mesivta Orchos Yosher in Spring Valley, NY. Rabbi Staum is also a member of the administration of Camp Dora Golding. He can be reached at This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it. and at www.strivinghigher.com.