Every murder, every terror attack leaves behind feelings of distress, upset, shock, grief, anger. Sometimes the pain simply fills you, blinds you, even cripples you. And sometimes, either right away or in the weeks and months and years that follow, they teach you something, give you something that refills the shattered pieces of your soul.
The pain and anger remain there, the walls you try to build seem stronger. You think you have developed a tough enough skin to mourn without bleeding; to cry without sobbing. You think you can control the anger but then “they” do something so horrible, so inhumane, so tragic, that you crumble.
After twenty years in Israel, I have a very long list of murderous attacks that break the spirit so badly you are sure that you’ll never cry again, you’ll never ever mourn as deeply…and it’s true, you can’t – until the next time. Then you discover as bad as it was before, it’s even worse this time. So much for the hope that you’d learned to cope with something that someday, we’ll have to admit to ourselves is beyond anyone’s capability. It’s always worse this time. But, maybe what we have to work on is finding the lesson, the pearl of hope left behind.
I could give you a long list of the names, the places, the ages.
He just wanted to take a day off school and be free so he and his friend went hiking and they were slaughtered. So close to his home; too far for help to arrive in time. From Koby’s death, his mother has been teaching us about finding blessings in life. From her shattered heart, she has found a way to comfort hundreds, perhaps thousands of others.
How could they shoot a 10-month-old baby in the head? What had she ever done? Shalhevet was murdered in her carriage by a sniper. Her father was wounded in the attack. No one will ever forget the image of her mother holding her; of her father carrying her body to be buried.
Tali was pregnant with a son when they shot her in cold blood, and if that horrifies you, remember that they also murdered her four daughters who were with her, leaving him nothing, nothing left to save, nothing left to hold.
Ruti was murdered just in front of the door where her sons slept and her death saved their lives. Her infant daughter became one of Israel’s youngest terror victims. Her
husband fell not far from her, two other sons died as well. And her oldest child, only 12 years old, faced a broken nation and told us she had to be strong because now she had to help raise her two remaining brothers…the ones Ruti protected with her life. If you want a lesson in the strength of a mother’s love, look no farther than Ruti and Naama and Tali and Dafna. If you want to see the strength in our children, look at Tamar.
Ya’akov’s daughter was to be married just a few days after he was murdered. He was buried beside his son, Netanel, who was also killed in the attack; Ya’akov’s daughter married in a delayed wedding only a few weeks later. Broken but determined, she invited all of Israel to come celebrate and be with her, and in the thousands, we went.
Tuvia ran, unarmed, to defend another and left behind a widow and a baby that will
forever mourn his loss.
Tsvi’s son had just gotten married the night before and they shot him as he drove to the next day’s post-wedding celebrations. The mother of the groom became Israel’s latest widow, his parents wondered how they could celebrate the joy of seeing their grandson married, only to watch their son being buried the next day. He was such a funny man and left a legacy of love for his family. Another lesson.
They were murdered together, in front of their children. It is likely that his 
actions saved the his children. Eitam fought them off and in the end, his murderers chose to flee, leaving behind the couple’s four children, saved by their father’s bravery. There are few greater examples of a father’s love and bravery than can be seen in the lives of Eitam, Tuvia, and Udi.
Hallel Yaffa was 13 years old when an Arab terrorist entered her bedroom and brutally murdered her. She leaves behind two little sisters, parents who struggle to honor her memory, and a community in mourning.
Nachson left behind six brothers when he was kidnapped and 
murdered. We knew where he was being held and we thought we had a chance, but he was killed before we could get to him.
Avraham Yitzchak was only four years old…four…when he went with his parents, his sisters and brothers to a pizza shop in Jerusalem. They buried him beside his parents and two of his sisters.
Elad was only three when they came into his home and murdered him, one brother, his baby sister, and his parents and they too were buried together in a funeral and a river of tears.
He came to this land to study and have fun, to celebrate finishing high school and starting the next chapter of his life. Instead, Ezra was sent back to America in a coffin
, mourned on both sides of the ocean.
And Nava. Nava was to be married the next day. She went with her father for that last tender father-daughter evening before the wedding and both were murdered in the cafe where they stopped. He was a well-known doctor. I see his picture every time I go to our local emergency medical clinic. She will forever be the bride, never the wife he dreamed she would be.
From Dr. Applebaum, we learn the meaning of dedication to others and from Nava we learn to live each moment, to find joy. It’s there in her smile, one that lives on, even after so many years.
They were murdered, David and Nava Applebaum, thirteen years ago. May their memories be blessed. And may God watch over them all. Over Koby and Ruti and Hadas. Over Shalhevet and Tali and her four daughters. Over Udi and Eitam and Tuvia. Over Dafna and Naftali and Gilad and Elad and Ezra and Tsvi and Malki and Avraham Yitzchak. And Nava and David. And Hallel Yaffa and Miki.
These are just some of the murders that have destroyed us and the amazing part is that while these are a small part of my list, every Israeli carries a similar list…with other names on it so that ultimately, together as a nation, we remember them all. We mourn for them, even decades later. We remember their smile, the sparkle in their eyes. We remember their innocence, or that look that just told you that they knew they were loved. And we try to learn something not just from their deaths, but from their lives.
We try to be more dedicated, stronger, more protective of our children. We try to let them have freedom when they are young, to go hiking as Koby loved to do. No, we can’t learn from every life and every death. Sometimes we are filled with a longing for what we feel wasn’t accomplished, what could have been, what should have been. It is, perhaps, at those times, that we have to work that much harder to remember. To remember that Dafna didn’t want us to live with hatred; that she and Eitam and Udi and Ruti gave their lives to save their children. We need to remember the innocence and beauty and goodness of those we have lost and strive to remain true to that, despite the pain of having lost them in such a horrible way.
I’ll confess that it is hard to look at lessons when what we are more inclined to do is focus on the violence. We want to hate not only what was done to them, but the ones who did it. We want revenge and we want their world to collapse, to shatter, as ours has so many times.
That’s when we need to look again at the face of Dr. David Applebaum, who dedicated his life to saving others. Look at the smile in her eyes, a promise for all the tomorrows she didn’t have, but hopefully we do. So in honor of all of them, we need to cherish what they cherished, and that was life. We have to try to have faith, as they did.
The sad truth is that the greatest revenge we can enact is not flattening their homes, killing their mothers and daughters. The greatest revenge is denying them what they want most, and that is to make our lives empty, devoid of love, of light, of laughter. So look at Nava and smile. Look at Dr. Applebaum and thank him. I was at Terem a few nights ago x-raying a hand that is thankfully not broken and I looked at him and smiled. Life in Israel – two things they hate – one thing we love and hold dear.
