When I entered Kever Rachel this week, I sensed right away that this visit would be different. Though it wasn’t yet Aseres Y’mei T’shuvah, the Elul crowds were growing as Rosh HaShanah drew closer. We managed to squeeze into the under-construction parking lot and headed inside.
Peeking into the men’s section, I saw a group of elementary school boys crowded around their teacher, eager to absorb the holiness of the time and place. In the women’s section, workers clattered noisily as they rearranged benches. Over the din, a large group of women talked loudly, perhaps to be heard over the furniture scraping. I wasn’t sure how I would manage to daven, but I waited for the chaos to settle. When the benches were finally in place, I found a seat with my back to the m’chitzah.
When I finally opened my T’hilim, the boys began to sing sweetly and loudly. Although I didn’t recognize the song they were singing, I enjoyed listening to the sounds of their voices, filled with innocence and hope. Due to time constraints, I didn’t have the luxury of listening for long. I began to daven.
I didn’t get very far. The elderly woman next to me, hair uncovered, dressed in pants, tugged at my arm. Tears streamed down her face as she urged me to focus on the words of the song the boys were singing. “Hashem listens to us,” she whispered. “We can talk to Him, and He listens!” She wanted to include me, a stranger, in her moment of connection. Her words pierced me and brought tears to my eyes as well. I told her my son would soon be going to fight in Gaza. She responded with a brachah that he should return home safely.
The boys finished singing, and the woman’s group left shortly after that. Things grew significantly quieter. Just as I settled down to daven again, about 50 chasidishe girls came in, dressed in their uniform of dark skirts, light blue blouses, and dark sweaters. This group was much quieter. The few girls who whispered were shushed right away.
There would be no more distractions – or so I thought. The girls began davening, quietly at first, then joining the men’s section in what sounded like s’lichos, but I’m not really sure. There was a lot of out-loud davening happening on both sides of the m’chitzah, with blasts of the shofar in between. I tuned out the noise and focused on my T’hilim. Fortunately, I actually succeeded to a large extent. I had a lot to daven for.
I was in my own little world in a space where so much was happening. At one point, I looked up and realized that I was the only woman left on the bench. All the girls had circled around me, davening with intensity in my direction. I felt out of place, but there was no way to move. So, I stayed, davening until I was ready to leave, slipping out once the crowd had thinned enough for me to find a small path to the exit.
It wasn’t the peaceful visit I had envisioned, but I walked away uplifted. Of course, Hashem values our t’filos. I believe He also values seeing His children connect – with Him and with each other. We may come from different backgrounds, but at Kever Rachel, we are one family, children of Hashem, pouring out our hearts to our Father in Heaven beside the mother who still cries for us. And yes, we can talk to Him.
Please continue to daven for the recovery of the wounded, the safe return of the hostages, the success and protection of our chayalim and all security personnel, and for the safety of all of am Yisrael.
K’sivah v’chasimah tovah to all!
Suzie Steinberg, (nee Schapiro), CSW, is a native of Kew Gardens Hills and resident of Ramat Beit Shemesh who publishes articles regularly in various newspapers and magazines about life in general, and about life in Israel in particular. Her recently published children’s book titled Hashem is Always With Me can be purchased in local Judaica stores as well as online. Suzie can be reached at This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it. and would love to hear from you.
