By Rabbi Shraga Freedman
I wanted to share with Matzav readers a powerful story that took place in the aftermath of the terrible tragedy that occurred in Yerushalayim last week, when two young children died in a charedi daycare. It appears that there was overheating, and as a result, two infants, one three months old and one six months old, were niftar, R”l.
I believe the story below captures something profound about how the Jewish people can navigate deep and painful machlokes within our nation.
The tensions in Israel between the charedi community and the rest of the population are currently at an all time high. Many people have accused the charedi public of an overall culture of lawlessness.
One such person is Chaggai Luber. Chaggai, a religious Zionist, lost his twenty four year old son, Yonatan, in Gaza last year. He has since been an outspoken critic of certain aspects of the charedi world.
This past week, Chaggai joined the many Israelis who felt anger, and even a sense of smugness in reaction to the daycare tragedy.
He wrote in a post:
“And I too participated yesterday, at least as a listener, in the collective frenzy.
And I too clicked my tongue at “the irresponsible parents….”
And I too read about “a culture of contempt, lawbreaking, and irresponsibility among the charedim.”
And I too hurried to reach a verdict and take a stance.
And I too wallowed in that same murky swamp.”
But then he wrote that his wife reminded him of something. Chani Katz, the mother of one of the children who died in that daycare, had once visited the Luber family during their shiva.
Not only that, but when she came, she brought with her a heart shaped necklace bearing Yonatan’s image. It was part of a large jewelry project she launched after October 7, to commemorate those who were killed in the war.
In a social media post, Chaggai wrote that in that moment everything changed. The charedim were no longer a faceless group to criticize. They were people. Brothers and sisters. Broken parents.
He wrote:
והיא עמדה לפני, אמא במלא כאבה,
במלא צערה.
במלא אובדנה
“And I saw her standing before me. A mother filled with hurt. Filled with pain. Filled with loss.”
ומה קרה לי, אב שכול שהצטרפתי לחגיגה
ונסחפתי, אפילו במחשבה, לאותו מחול האשמות נורא.
כשהמתים עוד מוטלים לפנינו, עוד לפני הקבורה.
“What happened to me, a bereaved father, that I joined in the celebration against the charedim? That I got carried away, even if only in thought, into that terrible dance of blame, while the dead were still before us, even before burial?”
והתחרטתי וכמעט שקרעתי קריעה
“And I regretted it. And I almost tore my clothes in mourning.”
This story, I believe, carries within it an answer to the existential struggle of painful machlokes in Klal Yisrael. We can disagree strongly, even passionately, and still truly feel another person’s pain. We can see the most human side (tzelem elokim) of those with whom we differ.
Chani Katz, who carried her own ideological worldview, nevertheless entered the home of grieving parents and joined them in their mourning. Her ability to feel the pain of others created a remarkable transformation in someone who had been emotionally closed off to her world.
This is the challenge of our generation. How to defend Torah values with vigor and conviction, while remaining faithful to Torah’s call for love, dignity, and respect. We can unequivocally reject ideas without rejecting people.
And perhaps the most compelling defense of our values is not the force of condemnation, but the integrity of our conduct. Living as a reflection of Hashem, as mekadshei Hashem, to the point that the Name of Heaven becomes beloved through us.
(This story was adapted with permission from the following article: https://nertamid.net/sermons/praying-for-the-ayatollah-parshas-bo/)
Rabbi Shraga Freedman
Living Kiddush Hashem Foundation
Email LivingKiddushHashem@gmail.com for a free file of stories and sefer Mekadshei Shemecha. Visit LivingKiddushHashem.org for more resources.