Tightness in My Chest / Expansive Breathing

I am having trouble breathing. My lungs feel tight. Or maybe it’s my heart that feels constricted today. It’s an ache that kept me up last night, a weight I am still carrying.

Yesterday, our hearts were shattered as we learned of the tragic murders in Gaza of 84-year-old Oded Lifshitz and young children Ariel and Kfir Bibas—Ariel, just four years old, and Kfir, only nine months when they were abducted. Their lives were taken under circumstances that leave us grasping for words, for understanding. We watched and waited as the coffins arrived in Israel and the bodies were identified. Normally, this work is done with the help of dental records. Baby Kfir did not have teeth yet.

How do we hold this unbearable grief? What can be done today?

I remind myself to breathe. To stop, close my eyes, and take slow, deep breaths. To steady myself. And one thing we can do is honour their lives by learning who they were.

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Oded Lifshitz

Oded was a veteran journalist, long-time defender of Palestinian rights, and a founder of the kibbutz where he lived and was abducted [Nir Oz] on October 7, 2023…Lifshitz, an Arabic speaker, had been actively involved for years with Road for Recovery, an organization that helps Palestinians receive medical treatment in Israel. According to his family, he would drive weekly to the Erez crossing on the Gaza Strip border to pick up sick Palestinians and transport them to Israeli hospitals. In his free time, the father of four, grandfather, and great-grandfather played the piano and looked after his garden, where he planted cacti. (See link here)

While Oded’s body was held in captivity in Gaza, the great 26-foot-tall cactus in his garden toppled over, and for the first time in 60 years, weeds took over the space. And then, a little over 400 days later, his grandson Daniel decided to bring that garden back to life. He couldn’t do it alone—a group of rotating volunteers and plant experts from across the country came to do the work. And now, the cactus garden is lush and wondrous once more.

But Oded will never see it again.

Daniel described his grandfather as a cactus himself—a resilient soul full of idealism that he never relinquished, even when the ground around him seemed barren of it.“We’re talking about a person who did fight for the country and its ideology and would say that Israel deserves to defend itself. In addition to that, he fought for everything that had to do with human rights.” (See link here)

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Ariel and Kfir Bibas

Ariel and Kfir were taken from Kibbutz Nir Oz on October 7. Their mother, Shiri, was seen holding them tightly as all three were transported into Gaza. The boys, with their unmistakable red hair, became a symbol of the tragedy of that day and of the hostages still held captive.

Many have posited—including Matti Friedman on a recent episode of Call Me Back—that with the scale of devastation on October 7 (1,200 Israeli fatalities + 250 hostages), it is too overwhelming to process the names and faces. So we zoom in on individual stories—on the faces of these sweet children, on American-Israeli citizen Hersh Goldberg-Polin—to help us come to terms with the unfathomable.

Yesterday, it was discovered that the fourth body returned to Israel was not, in fact, Shiri Bibas, but an unidentified woman. Questions abound: Where is Shiri Bibas? Is she dead or alive? Is there hope still to hold on to?

What Should We Be Feeling Right Now?

Will there be justice for Oded, for Ariel, for Kfir? What would that even look like? Is that the right question to be asking right now?

In the face of such overwhelming grief, our tradition reminds us: You do not have to carry this alone. We mourn as a people, as an extended Jewish family. This is a moment to come together. To lean on one another. To show up. Come to shul. Be with others. Let us sit in the ache, in the uncertainty, together.

And yet—even in this darkness—we must search for a flicker of light. For a glimmer of hope. Oded’s life was a testament to the power of human connection and reminds us of the impact one individual can have in promoting peace and understanding. His grandson did not let his garden wither. Instead, he rebuilt. Oded’s dedication to his ideas serves as a beacon, encouraging us to continue his work. Ariel and Kfir’s lives, too short, remind us of the sacredness of life itself and our responsibility to protect it. And it urges us to seek out the smiles and hugs of sweet, innocent souls and not to take them for granted.

We must not let ourselves be swallowed by despair, anger, and fear. Let us honour their memories with acts of kindness, with the pursuit of justice, and with an unrelenting belief in the possibility of peace.

May the memories of Kfir, Ariel, and Oded be a blessing.

With a heavy, constricted heart aching to breathe freer,

RIG

Please let me know what you think about today’s offering: rabbiglickman@djctoronto.com. I look forward to the conversation.