Published: 5 September 2024
Last updated: 5 September 2024
Last week, I sat in a circle of friends listening to Rabbi Dr Ariel Burger tell us a story by Rabbi Nachman of Breslev about two birds, the last two birds of their species, separated, lost from each other, wailing to each other every night from their nests across the skies.
Burger encouraged us to think of what this reminded us of, pop culture references included. I thought of Feivel and Tanya Mousekewitz in An American Tail, singing for each other beneath the pale moonlight. And of course, my own family searching for each other after the Holocaust. Hope and grief. Grief and hope.
Days later, so many of us watched Hersh Goldberg-Polin’s mother Rachel, and other hostages’ family members, running to the gates at the Gaza border, howling their children's names through a megaphone across the lonely plains. “Hersh, Hersh, it’s mama!” cried Rachel, our biblical matriarch, our mother of mothers, our womb of wombs. Rachel, the Hebrew name of my own mother.
Comments4
Jacqui Kay Goldenberg8 September at 11:06 am
Beautiful article. You put my feelings into words.
Gin6 September at 05:52 am
So beautifully articulated. I will light a candle tonight in honour of the lives lost so as to remember their names
Joanne Fedler6 September at 01:03 am
What a beautiful piece, thank you Miriam.
Julie Steinbok6 September at 12:05 am
So well said. Thanks for putting to words my innermost feelings. This constant ache I walk around with, wishing it to go away. It won’t leave me. We are united in our grief and in our hope. Am Israel Chai.❤️🇮🇱