Rebbetzen Tziporah

 Dear friends,

The kind of miracles that this parshah opens up to you are the kind that we don’t experience directly. That doesn’t mean that we don’t experience miracles. Miracles of the sort that we experience are, in a certain sense, more important than the ones that shoot arrows in the concept of the word “possible”.

The words for a miracle are ness, which means flagpole, and pele, which means the kind of wonder that makes you see that there an entirely separate dimension of reality – the way the word pele is used in other places in the Torah is “separate”. Another word is oss, which means sign. It is this word that is the key to understanding the others.

The word oss also means letter. A letter in the alphabet is actually a visual sign of a sound. The miracles that we have in our own lives would be easy not to perceive. We live in time, so whatever you experienced yesterday is obliterated by today’s new realities. We also find it hard to think out of the box. 

When something happens that demonstrates that there is more than meets the eye, we look wherever we can to find naturalistic justifications. The signs that the kind of miracles such as those ancestors had acted as a flagpole, putting the words, “I am Hashem” into eye view. To catch your attention, you need something so different than human expectations allow, that you actually look up and see the flag. The “trouble” that we have today is that dramatic signs like the plague of blood don’t happen frequently. Why not?

Ramban asks the question and tells you about what he calls hidden miracles, ones that are hidden by nature but are simultaneous events that put the flag on the pole if you are willing to look up. This kind of miracle is far more important than any more visible signs because they allow you to penetrate the mask of nature and to develop your own capacity for knowing Hashem from within yourself. 

There is one mistake that you have to be sensitive enough to avoid. That is thinking that our choice to look or not is a personal one. It isn’t. It touches the collective heart of the entire Jewish people. In the last year, you see that the level of Emunah is almost tangible here in EY. This process begins with individuals who are willing to see the miracles and let it touch them.

This Wednesday Bnos Avigail made a trip to the area surrounding the border. We began in Sderot, a small city that is close enough to see the fence separating us from Gaza from a high hill that is now an outlook station. Surprisingly to me – I haven’t been in Sderot since the tragic disengagement – the city is booming. They have a very nice commercial center, housing for the ultra-wealthy (by Israel’s standards – a pool in the back and a garden in the front) in addition to the regular apartments that are the core of all Israel’s cities (just recall scenic Har Nof and you get the idea). I couldn’t help wondering how they do it. 

The answer came when our guide, Mosh Norman, showed us the playgrounds. The three that he took us to are adjacent. One is for teens and has sophisticated stuff that you usually see in a gym, another was for little kids, and the third was for the adventurous types with whom I have only passing acquaintance. They have only a bit over a minute to find shelter if there is a siren coming from a bomb. Each part of the park has its own shelter. 

The word shelter may suggest to you in your mind’s eye a grim grey building. These were works of art. Each one had a façade in which the parts of Israel we all love were expertly painted. Rosh HaNikra’s seascape. Chevron. Kever Rachel. Green fields. More. They were the kind of building that could only be built by people who know how to look up and see the flag on the pole. We saw the grounds where the tragic Nova festival took place. I had no idea how many people were there, nor how large the area was. 

There were about 4,000 people there, in an area that is about half as large as Har Nof. The estimates are that the number of invaders on Simchat Torah was 5,000 Hamas terrorists and about 2,000 looters, who came just to despoil and do far worse. The number of people killed was about 1,500. That means that the ratio was one to seven. The flag is there for us to see. We went from there to the tomb of Baba Sali in Netivot.

With a heart full of unwavering faith and hands that healed countless souls, Baba Sali stood as a beacon of holiness, his blessings revered by Jews around the world. Born into the Abuhatzeira dynasty, he became a living legend, performing miracles that defied logic and bringing salvation to those who sought his guidance. Through fasting, prayer, and unshakable devotion to Torah, Baba Sali carried the legacy of his ancestors, the result of which was he inspired generations to trust Hashem.

He was a man who made us all see the flag waving. It will wave until Moshiach comes. One of today’s heartbreaks is that so many kids are confused. They don’t see the flag, and when they do, they close their eyes. 

The reasons are complex, and from my very, very limited exposure, are usually the result of deep emotional pain, pain that is a combination of external realities and the way they are interpreted – no two people are the same, no experiences are really identical, and no one can genuinely understand enough to get into the trap of either judging or justifying (both of which create an artificial feeling of control). 

The merit of the tzadikim is the collective property of all of us. When Moshiach comes, the confusion will end. The world will be as full of knowledge of Hashem as the sea floor is full of water. The kids will do teshuvah, as will the adults.

For those of you in EY, my daughter is doing another Kivrei Tzadikim trip. The details are attached. 

Love,

Tziporah

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