By Yedidya Meir
In my capacity as a television host, I have seen and heard a lot. But nothing prepared me for the statement of Shir, daughter of recently released Israeli-American hostage, Keith Siegel, 65, who survived 484 days of captivity and joined his wife Aviva, who was also held hostage for 51 days.
I was certain that Shir, like the emotional relatives of other released captives, had come to the Channel 14 studio to call on viewers to support the hostage deal at any cost. I admit: I struggle with that. On the one hand, after all they’ve been through, they have the right to say whatever is on their mind. But on the other hand, don’t those who think differently also have that same right? Not to say everything, but to disagree slightly? To raise questions and concerns? To suggest other ways to free captives? But we are forbidden from uttering a word. Ask anyone who tried to raise the topic of the danger of releasing thousands of terrorists.
I was mulling this in my mind when suddenly she said, “I think that one of the things that helped my father cope, and that made him come back home—not only alive but much stronger than I remember him—was faith. I think that there in captivity, his connection to Judaism became much stronger. Out of the 484 days that my father was there, for half the time he was completely alone, locked in a room. On the rare occasions when he was around people, they spoke only Arabic. And of course, he sought Jewish identity, but it was hard to find. So, he found it in small prayers he began to say, in blessings over food, in ‘borei minei mezonot,’ which he’d never said before. And ‘Shema Yisrael,’ which he had never said in his life.
“He said that what really strengthened him was taking a moment to recall that he was a Jew, and that there is meaning to the fact that he is part of the Jewish people. After my father returned, I asked him: ‘What would you like us to do at our first Friday night meal together?’ I imagined he would say some special dish that he likes, but he said, ‘You know what I really, really want? A kippah and a cup for Kiddush.’
“That surprised me! I think there is something to being not just in enemy territory, but in a place where they intentionally try to tear you from your identity, and exactly in that place, a person decides, ‘I will maintain my identity.’ He protected himself, and by protecting himself, in my eyes, he protected all of us.”
When I returned home from the broadcast, I watched the interview again to make sure I hadn’t imagined it. Well, not only had I not imagined it, but upon re-watching, I noticed inspiring things that I hadn’t caught during the program.
I remember the wonder that passed through my mind during the interview when she said that her father made the mezonot blessing. What made him say that? I can understand “Shema Yisrael,” the most significant Jewish text. Generations of Jews gave up their lives with these words on their lips. But “Borei minei mezonot?” Without detracting from their importance, what does a secular kibbutznik from Kfar Aza have to do with blessings over food?
Footage of Keith Siegel meeting with Shai Graucher and Rabbi Moshe Scheiner, who came to Israel at the head of a group of Jews from the Palm Beach community in Florida, provided the answer. Keith told them: “I started to make a blessing before eating, Hamotzi lechem min ha’aretz. We had a piece of bread with every meal. It was the first thing I would eat after saying the blessing. I didn’t know any other blessings, but then I heard someone say on TV, ‘Borei minei mezonot,’ is that right?”
Keith continued explaining: “They allowed me to watch some Israeli TV. I think they were talking there about good places to eat in Tel Aviv. So, someone there on the program, before he ate, I don’t know what, said, ‘Baruch ata … borei minei mezonot.’ So, I blessed Hamotzi before eating pita, and Mezonot before I ate other things because I thought that was right. It was the only thing I knew. It turns out it wasn’t exactly right.”
When I saw this, I thought what a shame it was that Rabbi Shlomo Carlebach passed away more than 30 years ago, and we didn’t get to hear the story from his mouth. I can just imagine him relating this story about Rabbi Keith-Borei-Minei-Mezonot accompanied by his guitar…
I think we need to realize that we live in a reality that is no less moving than any Carlebach story. We need only to open our heart (and close it, when necessary, not to allow ourselves to become confused by how the media tells the story). Because, what’s the story here? The Jewish people are returning to Hashem, to their identity. Listen to the words of the captives. As they emerge from Gaza, the captives tell us how the prayers, mitzvot, and good deeds we sent them crossed the border, descended to the depths of the dark tunnels, and affected them in real time.
Omer Shem Tov from Herzliya, who began to observe Shabbat in captivity, published his first post adorned with tefillin. The first line was intended for Hashem: “Creator of the world, thank you for being with me at every moment.” Later he added: “I felt your prayers and even in the darkness I had light.” And just that evening, Danielle Gilboa reported how she and her friends made Kiddush in captivity, and were afraid to pray in Hebrew so they taught themselves to sing “Shalom Aleichem” in Arabic.
On that same day, a Sefer Torah was brought l’illui nishmat Ori Danino, 25, Hy’d. When Eli Cohen returned from captivity, he reported that this was Ori’s last request, that a Torah scroll be bought in his name.
A week earlier, we saw the picture of Russian Israeli, Sasha Troufanov, 29, who apparently received zero Jewish education and who the day after his release, asked to lay tefillin for the first time in his life. But let’s say that’s the younger generation. We recognize this trend among the youth wherever they are. Not only captives from Gaza, also high school students at Ohel Shem in Ramat Gan. But now we are hearing stories in this spirit also from adults in kibbutzim. Aside from Keith Siegel, Ohad Ben Ami, 55, a member of Kibbutz Be’eri, returned from captivity a few days ago and asked for two things: to lay tefillin and to perform Havdalah. Wearing the tefillin, he said in a video: “Inside we are a very, very strong people, and what unites us is faith—faith in Hashem. For me personally, that is what saved me, and thanks to Hashem I am back here after captivity. Apparently, I needed to correct a few things. My message to the people of Israel: our faith is what unites us and is also what gives us strength in moments when we [here he stops for a moment, looking like someone who remembers the horrors of captivity] are the most humiliated, the most crushed…” After he removed the tefillin, he asked to perform Havdalah (on a Monday, because that was what gave him strength in captivity).
I wanted to end the column here, with the influence of our prayers on reality and in the wonderful stories about the awakening of Jewish souls, even those that seem the most distant. We are witness to a new genre of heroic stories of spiritual valor being written. And then, just before my deadline, I received the following e-mail from the Tachover family of the Neve community in southern Israel:
“Hello, Yedidya. In our settlement of Neve there was an initiative to increase zechuyot for the sake of the captives. Families that were interested in contributing “adopted” a captive, and took on a goal of chizuk on his behalf. My wife and I and our seven children received the name of Keith Shmuel ben Gladys (Keith Siegel), and chose to take upon ourselves to make brachot out loud. We hung up a Bristol board with his name and each time someone said a berachah with kavanah, we added another sticker. We were overjoyed to hear about Keith’s release. And then we heard your interview with Keith’s daughter where she said that her father began to make brachot in captivity. To think that we and he were strengthened in exactly the same manner. Even now, as I write this to you, I am tearing up…”
Yedidya Meir is a journalist and radio broadcaster. He writes a weekly columnist for B’Sheva.