Dear Matzav Inbox,
R’ Binyomin Kubani is sitting in jail.
Yes, still. After being arrested on a baseless charge, with video footage that clears him, after public outcry and protests, after headlines and meetings and “connections being called”—a kollel yungerman, a father, who did absolutely nothing wrong, is still behind bars.
And what have our “askanim” accomplished?
Nothing.
I’m not saying they didn’t try. They may have stayed up all night. They may have devoted every second. But they were not effective.
What have our “elected officials,” the ones we proudly parade around, the ones who send us polished statements and take pictures — what have they done?
Nothing.
Let’s say it clearly: this story rips off the illusion we’ve built for ourselves and throws us face-first into the harsh, undeniable truth: We are in golus. Real, unvarnished, spine-chilling golus. The kind we read about in books and say we can’t relate to. Well, guess what? It’s here. Now. And it’s not a chapter in Jewish history. It’s the front page of today’s news.
We don’t belong here.
We are living in a country that tolerates us, not one that truly accepts us. We built communities, we followed the law, we worked hard, we sent lobbyists, we learned how to smile and play the game—but deep down, we’re still the Jew with the yarmulka, still the outsider, still the one who can be accused and arrested without a shred of evidence while everyone else “lets the process play out.”
What process?
A video clears him. Common sense clears him. Human decency clears him. And yet, he sits.
Because we’re in golus.
And our “askanim”? Our “power brokers”? Let’s be honest. It’s a nice title. It looks good on WhatsApp statuses. But when it came time to actually wield influence, they folded like paper. All the connections, all the dinners, all the handshakes…they amount to nothing when a Jew is thrown into a cage and we can’t get him out.
We’re not as powerful as we thought we were. In fact, we’re powerless.
And our elected officials? They like us when we fill their campaign coffers. They love us when we deliver votes in key districts. But when the mob turns on a Jew, when the winds shift, they vanish. Powerless.
The joke’s on us.
We convinced ourselves that we were comfortable in golus. We learned to love it here. We mistook tolerance for permanence. We thought we could live like everyone else. But moments like these rip off the mask and remind us that we’re still in the hands of a system that was never built to protect us.
We’re not home.
And if this isn’t a wake-up call, I don’t know what is. A yungerman sits in a jail cell, stripped of his dignity, his freedom, his basic rights. And we? We’re left grasping for answers, scrambling for someone—anyone—to step up and do what’s right.
But there’s no one to rely on. Ein lanu al mi lehisha’ein ela al Avinu shebashamayim. And maybe that’s the point. Maybe Hashem is showing us, again, that it’s time to open our eyes. Time to remember where we are. Time to realize we’ve been lulled into a false sense of security.
This isn’t just about R’ Binyomin Kubani.
This is about a nation that forgot it was in golus.
Let us be shaken. Let us be furious. Let us cry out—not just for him, but for ourselves. Because until we remember where we truly are, we won’t begin to daven for where we need to be.
A Yid in Golus
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