An open letter to Rachel Goldberg-Polin
Our Matriarch Rachel, who herself endured so much pain and suffering, was laid to rest by the road in Bethlehem, at Kever Rachel.
Dearest Rachel,
No words can truly capture the depth of your pain. Losing your beloved son, Hersh, in such a horrific way, is a nightmare no mother or family should ever endure. Yet, even amid your unimaginable grief, you have shown me and every mother what true strength and faith looks like. Your relentless fight and consistent advocacy for 332 consecutive days were nothing short of heroic. You have inspired us all with your courage, determination and love.
Your name, Rachel, embodies such a special meaning. Our Matriarch Rachel, who herself endured so much pain and suffering, was laid to rest by the road in Bethlehem, at Kever Rachel. She chose to be buried there on her own, not with the other matriarchs and patriarchs, so she could always be near her children; so that anyone passing by could stop, reflect, cry and reach out to her. Until today she continues to passionately plead with God on our behalf, eternally advocating for all of her children and fighting for their return home.
Rachel, you are a modern-day reflection of our matriarch and like her you have cried for your child with a broken heart. While Hersh didn’t physically come home, you have brought him into the homes and hearts of millions around the world. Hersh’s memory now lives on in our prayers and at the core of countless strangers who have been touched by your strength, your fortitude and your unwavering maternal love.
I cannot fathom what it must have taken for you to stand at Hersh’s funeral and publicly thank God for the 23 years you were blessed to have with him. When you said, “Out of all of the mothers in the whole entire world, God chose to give Hersh to me. He was the perfect son for me … and I am so grateful to God and I want to do Hakarat Hatov and thank God right now in front of all of you for giving me this magnificent present of my Hersh.”
Rachel, within that magnified moment, when you could have bubbled with bitterness, instead you personified gratitude. You exuded pure faith and incredible grace, reminding us that even in the darkest times, there are still reasons to be thankful. You showed us that even in the depths of pain, we can still find hope and trust in God.
As we approach the High Holy Days, your example becomes even more powerful and purposeful. Every day during Elul, we hear the sound of the shofar. It’s not a perfect sound musically – far from it. It’s broken, jagged and raw, much like the feelings we all currently carry inside. Yet it is that splintered sound which soars to the greatest spiritual heights. It’s a cry from the depths of our collective soul connecting us directly to God.
There’s a story from the Baal Shem Tov about a student who was invited to blow the shofar on Rosh Hashanah. Despite many months of spiritual preparation, when the moment of shofar blowing finally arrived, he realised he had inadvertently lost all his prepared notes. All he had left was his broken heart, and so that’s what he used to blow the shofar. It was that concentrated cry which served as the master key to open all the gates of heaven.
Rachel, your cry is like those shofar blasts, its purity and power have ensured they reach us all. We may live geographically on the other side of the world, yet I can guarantee you that Hersh’s memory will live on in us all – now and always.
We are am echad b’lev echad, one people with one heart.
May you and the family be blessed with strength and be comforted among the mourners of Zion and Jerusalem.
With much love and deep respect, Chanie, On behalf of your sisters, the Jewish women of Australia.
Chanie Wolff is rebbetzin of Central Synagogue in Sydney.
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