Living Through History
By Sivan Rahav Meir
Last Shabbat I was in the street when the sirens sounded. As everyone rushed to find shelter, I heard a little girl ask her mother: “Mom, does this mean Purim is canceled?” While she was running, her mother replied: “Not at all! Even with the challenges and difficulties, this year we’ll have an even happier Purim!”
I don’t know who that clever mother was, but she was right. Purim wasn’t canceled—it was unfolding in front of our eyes. Purim is the holiday that demonstrates that the Jewish nation is eternal. Thank G-d, no one is able to destroy us, not Haman, not Hitler, and not Khamenei. Whoever else dreams of doing so will ultimately be destroyed. And when confronted with danger and distress, the Jewish people reclaim their identity, take action, and become even stronger—in those historic days of Purim and today.
It happened just after Simchat Torah, at the temporary school that opened in Jerusalem for hundreds of children evacuated from the Gaza border communities.
“What gives you strength these days?” I asked them.
The answers came quickly: “Our parents and family, friends, faith, Torah, the IDF. The unity of the Jewish people. The volunteers who show up. Music that carries us through the difficult hours…”
And then a blond 14-year-old boy, Matania Tzur-Arieh from Kfar Maimon, raised his hand and said: “The trash can of history.”
I asked him to explain.
“I look at our long history,” he said. “And see who has been thrown into the trash can over the centuries. If we lift the lid, we’ll see Adolf Hitler, Vladimir Lenin, Joseph Stalin, Osama bin Laden, Saddam Hussein, Amalek, Antiochus, Nebuchadnezzar, Titus, Haman, Achashverosh, Pharaoh, all the wicked are there. The whole gang.
“Today, they’re irrelevant. The world moves forward. There’s a plan. Evil is not here to stay. It’s temporary. The Jewish people are small, but eternal and strong. In the struggle between light and darkness, the evil end up in the trash. Yahya Sinwar and Hassan Nasrallah are there as are Hamas, Hezbollah, and the Ayatollahs. They will all end up in the same place. Soon.”
I find myself returning to that moment whenever more villains join history’s refuse pile, especially over the past two and a half years.
Intellectually, of course, I always knew this. But suddenly, that day, I felt it in my heart as well. Fourteen-year-old Matania, with his gentle smile, interpreted reality for me better than any seasoned commentator could.
Last week, in the large hall at the Jerusalem offices of Nefesh B’Nefesh, I attended a festive ceremony marking the completion of Nach, the Nevi’im, and Ketuvim, for hundreds of American women who came to Israel with a delegation organized by the Orthodox Union.
Most of us know the “T” of Tanach well: Torah. These are the stories of our childhood: Creation, Noach, Yetzias Mitzrayim. The weekly parashah. The steady rhythm of Jewish life. But what about the rest, the Nevi’im and Ketuvim? Nineteen books: Yehoshua, Shoftim, Melachim, Yeshayahu, Amos, Tehillim, Mishlei, Shir Hashirim, and more.
“A Jew can live to 120,” said Rebbetzin Dr. Adina Shmidman from the stage. “And still not know entire chapters of Tanach. That’s why we launched the Daily Nach project. One chapter a day. In about two years, you will finish it.”
I looked around the room with a touch of envy. Two years ago, these women opened perek aleph of Yehoshua. Day after day, they continued and now they were here. The learning had become part of who they are.
A twelve-year-old girl in New York completed Nach in honor of her bat mitzvah. A ninety-four-year-old woman from Memphis said she wants her tombstone to read: “She completed the Prophets and the Writings.”
Tehila Blech of New York has traveled to Israel on five solidarity missions since the war began. This week she marked her completion of Nach at the Nova site. She dedicated her two years of study to the memory of Hadar Hoshen, who was murdered there, and formed a deep bond with the family.
Dr. Shmidman read the final verse of Tanach, from Divrei HaYamim II. We all know the Torah’s first word: Bereishit: “In the beginning.” The final word is: “Veya’al—And let him go up.” It speaks of ascending to Jerusalem, to the Holy Temple.
And then it became clear that the Shmidman family was making their own “Veya’al.” With emotion, she and her husband announced they are making aliyah to Israel.
When I rose to speak, I told them that through their daily study of Nach, they are holding the secret formula: Connection to identity and roots together with the power of consistency provides an anchor in an age of endless distraction.
Artificial intelligence can summarize the entire Bible in seconds. It can produce presentations, podcasts, translations into any language. It can do almost everything for us. But there’s one thing it can’t do and that’s to truly learn Torah. To toil. To invest. To persevere. And then to come to Jerusalem and celebrate.
I asked them to return to America as ambassadors. Not to give up so quickly on millions of brothers and sisters. Not to leave behind a single disconnected Jew who may not even know what Nach is. To widen the circle, and for each of us to create our own “Veya’al.”
To rise a little higher and connect a little deeper.
Translated by Yehoshua Siskin and Janine Muller Sherr.
Read more by Sivan Rahav Meir at SivanRahavMeir.com.
