NAOMI RAGEN BLOG
July 1, 2014
I was at a wedding last night, a beautiful affair by the sea celebrating the longed-for marriage of our dear friends eldest son with his lovely bride. The vows were said under a chuppah, just as the sun set over the blue ocean’s gentle waves. Another Jewish family beginning, I thought in joy as I watched the beaming bride and groom and their happy families.
We sat down by tables set with fresh, delicious food, my dear friend Esther Wachsman sitting down next to me, leaving room for her husband Yehuda. She had just put a spoonful or two of food on her plate, when her cell phone rang. She picked it up, her face undergoing a visible change. Abruptly, she stood up, pushing her chair back from the table. “I have to go,” she said. “Yehuda isn’t feeling well.”
We all commiserated. “What’s wrong?” I whispered. She leaned over, putting her mouth next to my ear: “They’ve found the bodies. The boys are all dead.”
My head spun, bringing me back twenty years to when we had waited outside the Wachsman home the Friday night following the kidnapping of Nachshon. How we watched the generals make their way into the home, and how, from the porch next door, I heard the keening of my dear friend for her son who had taken a ride home and had never arrived.
……Our only comfort is that only a generation ago, it was not three young Jewish boys who were rounded up and murdered with the help of such people, but millions. Now the Jewish people are blessed with their own land, their own army, air force and a unique unity that allows them to mourn as one every, single Jewish life taken by their enemies, and to demand and exact justice for each death whether or not the European Union, or the President of the United States, or the Arab League think our dead deserve justice, and whether or not useful idiot journalists like [NYT Jerusalem Bureau Chief] Rudoren and their lying, corrupt, nearly bankrupt newspapers approve.
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ArchitectGuy on Israel 