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I want to share with you a beautiful vart that I had never seen before, but really, really a stunning, stunning vart from the haftorah in this week's parsha. The haftorah in this week's parsha speaks about Elisha the Navi and his servant Gehazi. And Elisha went to a place called Shunem. And in Shunem, the pasuk tells us, "V'sham isha gedola," there was a very prominent woman, a great woman who lived there. And she took care of him. She gave him food to eat, and whenever he would pass by there, she would take care of Elisa and Gechazi. One of the times that he was there, the Navi tells us that he turns to this Ishashunamis. We don't know her name. He comes to her and he says to her Because of everything that you've done Because of all the trouble you've put yourself through to host us.
Please, what can I do? What can I do for you? And he says, "Can I speak on your behalf to a king or to a general? Meaning, can I be an advocate on your behalf to make sure that you're safe?" And this Ishashunamis, she says to him, 'No, betoch amcha ani yosheves. I sit, I dwell amongst my people. Meaning, I have the protection that I need. I have people surrounding me. In those days. You lived and died by the community.' So if you had a community, you were safe. And if you didn't have a community, then chas v'shalom, you were subject to attack. But this isha shunammes, she says to Elisha, "No, I have everything that I need." Now, if we hit pause on this story, that's a very strange thing. If you have the opportunity to get a bracha, if you have the opportunity to get something from Elisha Hanavi, what would you ask for? I imagine that if I asked you, you would know exactly what you need.
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One of my favorite stories ever is the story with the Lubavitcher Rebbe and Eli Wiesel. Eli Wiesel was a Holocaust survivor. I'm sure many of you have heard of Eli Wiesel. He wrote a very famous book called Night. And Eli Wiesel speaks about the fact that he went to the Lubavitcher Rebbe after the Holocaust and he introduced himself. And he said to the Lubavitcher Rebbe, 'I'm a Vizhnitzer Hasid. I'm not a Lubavitcher.' So the rebbe smiled at him and he said to him, 'It just matters that you're a chassid. It doesn't matter if you're a Vizhnitzer or a Lubavitcher, just as long as you're a chassid.' One year, Eli Weisel came back to the rebbe on Simchas Torah. And on Simchas Torah He went to get a bracha from the rebbe and the rebbe smiled at him and he said, "Tell me" How do they celebrate Simchas Torah in Vizhnitz?
So Eli Weisel said, "In Vizhnitz, we make a lechayim." So the Labavitcher Rebbe said, "In Labavitch, we also make a lachaim, and he poured a lachaim, and they each had a lachaim." And then the Lubavitcher Rebbe said to Elie Wiesel, he said 'He said, I'm sorry, Eli Weisel said to the Labavitcher Rebbe, he said, Rebbe, in Labavitch they only make one lachaim And the Rebbe smiled, and he said, 'One is but a drop in the ocean,' and he poured another lachaim. And the Rebbe was feeling good, and Eli Wiesel was feeling good. The Lubavitcher Rebbe turned to Eli Wiesel and he said, 'Ask me for a bracha.' Now, when someone like the Lubavitcher Rebbe, when a tzaddik like that says, 'Ask me for a bracha,' you understand that the gates of Shamayim are open, and you can ask for anything. Eli Wiesel said he was so paralyzed by the moment that he didn't even know what to ask for. The Lubavitcher Rebbe saw that Eli Wiesel was paralyzed, so he said to Eli Wiesel, 'Ask me for a bracha that in your life you should be zocher to begin again.'
That after all the troubles that you went through in the Holocaust, that you should be zayicha to start your life again. I always liked that story because it meant that there was a moment where the LeBavitcher Rebbe was saying to him, 'The gates are open.' And I wondered to myself, what would I have said if I was Eliyzel in that moment? What have I asked for nachas from my children? What have I asked for shalom bayis? What have I asked for the capacity to be marbitz Torah? What would I have asked for in that moment? This is Elisha Hanavi. Elisha the Navi turns to this woman, the Ishushunamis, and he says to her What can I do for you? "And what's her response?" V'toych amcha niyoshevus. I have everything I need. Don't worry. And it's a very, very strange response. So what happens? Listen to the pasuk. He said to her, "What can I do for you?" And Gechazi answered.
Not the woman, not the isha shunamis, but Gechazi turns to Elisha and he says, she doesn't have a child. She doesn't have a son, and she's an elderly woman. So what happens? Elisha Hanavi promises Promises her, he says, at this time next year, when you will be alive, like now. You will be embracing a son. So it's a crazy thing. What do we just find out about this Elisha Shunamis? She doesn't have a kid. She doesn't have a kid. So the kasha that we asked a moment ago is now a thousand times more powerful. It's one thing if you have everything that you want in the world. So then I understand you don't ask Elisha for anything. But girls, do we understand the pain of being an elderly woman and never having a child? And now Alicia says to her, "Ask and I'll give you." Alicia could obviously give her a child, but what does she do? She doesn't say a word. Girls, you know Rav Zvi Kusheleski, the Rebbe from Yerushalayim.
He's in his 80s and he just had a son. It's a wild story. He's 88 like that. How about here? It's my first Homer Tavoren moment with Shana. Beautiful. He was an elderly man, and his wife passed away, and he remarried a woman in her sixties and had a child. Kolod Shem Baruch Hu does miracles, but here you have Elisa Hanavi, and you have a woman who's an elderly woman, and she's never had a child before, and now what does she have the opportunity to do? To ask Elisa Hanavi, and still she doesn't ask. On my block is a very famous story. Is Rabbi Nachman Seltzer still a teacher? Rabbi Seltzer knows the story well. I think he wrote it up. On my block, there's a woman. She didn't have children for 20 years. Can't imagine the pain. She had children for 20 years. The way my block is built, each house was split into four, and you're able to buy a quarter of the house, or some people bought half of the house.
One house is structured differently than every other house. One person bought three quarters of one side and left only a quarter for somebody else to buy. Who would buy a quarter of a house? Someone who doesn't have any children. So on my block, it's very strange. All the houses are split either into four or some are split into three because somebody bought two of them. This house, three quarters of it is one, and you could see there's only a quarter left for somebody else because they didn't have children for 20 years. Girls, her job was a ganenet. It's ganene. It means she takes care of one-year-olds and two-year-olds and three-year-olds. She has a gan in her house because, after all, it's not like she has children of her own to take care of. So she has enough patience. And honestly, it's very sad. At the end of the day, they go home. Her home is empty. And Rama b'Yishemis
They hang out in parks. That's what everyone does. They hang out in parks. So you know, the women in my neighborhood. If you go on a Shabbos afternoon, the parks are packed. All the benches are all the mothers, and all the women are just watching their kids run around the parks. That if you don't have children, you don't go to the parks because it's too painful. You're gonna sit there and watch this one's little kid come over and this one's little kid crying. I stubbed my toe. I hurt my knee. It's like tearing out her heart every single week. So she never went to the park. This woman, she was mostly again, she was a ghanette. She was lovely. She had friends, but the truth is She didn't go out that much. Crazy story. I don't want to get into all the details right now. You can ask my sister to tell you the details of the story. The crazy story is that on my block there's a man whose name is Rav Aaron Pesin. Have you heard of Rav Aaron Pesin? Some of you may have heard of him. He's a big tzaddik. Rav Pesin was a very close talmid of Rav Chaim Kaniewski, and he took the father of this family that couldn't have children to Rav Chaim Kaniewski, and he said to Rav Chaim they couldn't have children. Please, Rabbi, can you give them a bracha?
Rav Chaim said, build a mikvah. Build a mikvah. And the schuz that you build a mikvah in a community that doesn't have a mikvah. You'll be zayecha to have a child. They built the mikvah a year later. They had their child. It was crazy. This is not one of those nine months and a day later stories. This is an actual story that happened on my block. When she came home from the hospital with her daughter, you've never seen anything like this. The entire block was decked out with balloons, blasting music. Everyone was dancing. It's the craziest thing. And now, when you see her walking through the neighborhood with her little daughter, everyone smiles. Everyone has like a beautiful like. That's the kid. But twenty years of pain, twenty years of tsar. You imagine that if Eliezer Hanavi would have come to her and said, 'What can I give you?' She would have said, 'A kid. Give me five. I want to have quintuplets.' And this Ishunam, or maybe not. But the Ishunamis doesn't open her mouth. How could that possibly be? Not only does she not ask, she doesn't say a word. If it wasn't for Gechazi, what would have happened? Maybe Eliezer would have left. Gechazi says, 'Debbie, she doesn't have any children.' Alicia says, 'By this time next year' "You're going to have a child." What's her response? What would you say?
I would say, "Thank you so much. That's amazing. What an amazing gift." But Ishas Shunamis, she has a wild reaction, totally unexpected. What's the reaction? She says Da. Vatomer Eladoni, she responds, "Ishalokim." This man of God Don't fail me, don't fail me Don't let me down. That's a very strange response. Say thank you. She says, don't let me down. Rashi explains. Don't tell me that I'm going to embrace a son. What's the point of hugging the child if ultimately this child is going to die? And what ended up happening? This is what she said to him when that child did die. She comes back to Alicia, as we'll soon see in the story, and she said, "I told you" Don't mislead me. Don't let me down. This is what Rashi is telling us already in the story. What's her intuition? You promised me a child.
But this child is going to die. It's better for me not to have the child than to lose the child. This is a very strange interaction. Why is she even thinking about this at this point? If Rav Chaim Kanievsky said to that woman, 'You're going to have a child in the schuz that you have a mikvah,' what's the response? Don't let me down. Make sure the kid doesn't die. That's a very strange response. But we know what happens. The child ultimately dies. The ish shunamis packs up her stuff and she goes. You guys remember the story? It's nice when I tell it in the yeshiva. None of the boys know the story because they never learn math. But say it. We'll talk about that a different time. So what happens? The child dies. And she goes. The isha shunamis goes And Alicia sees her coming from the distance.
So what does he tell Gechazi? He says, "Ata ruts na lacrasa." Run towards her. Run towards the isha shunamis. Go greet her. Go find out what's going on. The emerla hashalom lach. Are you okay? Are you well? Lishay chashalom. Is your husband well? Lielit. Vatomer shalom. So Gechazi comes and he says, Are you well? Is your husband well? Is your child well? And what does she say? Everything's good. What should she have said to Gechazi? The kid that you gave me died. But she doesn't say a word. That's not what she says. Instead, she waits until she comes to Alicia. Vatavo Alicia lo kim alahar. Vatechazeik beraglav. She comes to the man of God, meaning she comes to Elisha, and she comes to the mountain and grabs hold of Elisha's feet. It's a very powerful imagery. And what does Gehazi do? He tries to push her away.
And what does Elisha say to Gehazi? He says, "Let her be." Why? Ki nafsha marala V'Hashem he elimi many v'lo higgedli. He says, "Don't push her away. She's embittered." Don't push her away. She's devastated. Don't push her away. Hashem told me that He would give me a child, and He hid from me the truth that the child would die. And what does she say to him? V'atomer hashalti ben me'es adoni. Did I ask for a son? I never asked for this. You offered it. I never asked for it. Halo amarti lo tashlozi. Didn't I say don't mislead me? I knew it was going to happen. I knew it was going to happen. And in the end, we know the story. What happens? Elisha goes, and he prostrates himself on the child, and he does tchias amesim, and that child grows up to be either Yonah Hanavi or Chabakuk.
Okay. Very good. So the story has a good ending. But it's a very strange story. Because why did it have to happen that way? Why did it have to happen that she doesn't ask for the child? That Elisha Hanavi gives her the child. That Hashem hides from her, from Elisha, that the child is going to die. That the child dies. That she comes. That she grabs onto Elisha's feet and she won't let go. And she says, "I never asked for this, and you misled me." And then he does chiyas ameson. Why does the story have to go down like this? I want to share with you one of the most powerful poems I've ever read in my entire life. This is a poem by a man whose name was C. S. Lewis. I'd like you to hear this and I'd like you to hear it well.
I'd like you to hear this now. I'd like you to hear well. There is no safe investment. To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything And your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly be broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, meaning if you want to make sure that your heart is intact You must give your heart to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries. Avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or a coffin of your own selfishness. But in that casket Safe, dark, motionless, airless It—meaning your heart—will change. It will not be broken. It will become unbreakable. Impenetrable Irredeemable. The alternative to tragedy, or at least to the risk of tragedy, is damnation. The only place outside of heaven where you can be perfectly safe from all the dangers of love is hell.
This is one of the most powerful pieces I have ever read in my entire life. Listen carefully to what he says. And it's an amazing message. You have two choices in life. You can either love and risk the vulnerability of being heartbroken. That's one option. But when we say love, we don't mean loving a person. Loving anything creates heartbreak. I remember he said even an animal. I want you to know I had a talmud years ago. One of my favorite talmudim of all time And he came to me devastated because his family dog had passed away. And I am not a dog person. I'm not a cat person. I'm not a bird person. I'm not even a fish person. I don't want any pets in my house. I have children, and that's enough. But he was heartbroken And I sat with him, and I didn't have empathy. If I'm being honest with you, I was like In my heart, I was like It's a dog.
But he was crying. He's like, Reb, you don't understand. This dog was with me since I was born. I loved this dog, and this dog loved me, and I'm not even home. I wasn't there to say goodbye, and I saw that he was heartbroken. You could be heartbroken if you love anything. Because if you truly love, then you love wholeheartedly. There's no such thing as loving a little bit. To love means to give your full self over to somebody, or to someone, or to something. And when you give over your heart, the possibility for heartbreak exists. And so we have two choices. Choice number one is to love with all of your heart. To put yourself out there And maybe to be heartbroken, but maybe not. Or choice number two is don't love at all. You and that's very selfish Because we are designed to love. Love is a gift that we give the world. So if you don't want to be hurt, you don't have to.
Just don't love anyone or anything ever. It's exceptionally selfish, but then you won't be hurt. People do this all the time. People say, "I'm just going to stop putting myself out there." You know that girl that's gone out on so many dates, and somebody says, "I have a great idea for you," and she goes, "I don't even know. Honestly, I'm not even sure. I'm so busy. I don't even know when I'll get to it." What is she doing? She's putting away her love in a casket or a coffin. Because she says, "I don't want to be hurt anymore. So it's better for me not to love at all. I'll make all these hobbies. I'll have all this life that I'll build for myself because I don't want to risk getting hurt." And an amazing thing happens: if you put your heart in that coffin, it will work. It will 100% work. Your heart will become unbreakable. You'll never be hurt again.
And you'll never love again, and you'll never be loved. Listen to the language that he uses. Your heart will become unbreakable, impenetrable, but it will also become irredeemable. Because if you square yourself away and hide in the basement of your house, nobody can love you. Then what could possibly redeem you in your life? Love redeems a person. Do you know that's true? When you love someone, that's redeeming them. That's geula. Imagine a kid who's been pushed out of every yeshiva, and nobody wants him, and then one rebbe comes along and says, "Come, you're in my yeshiva." You know what that kid feels? Geula. He feels redemption. There's a Rebbe in my neighborhood. He's a very special Rebbe. There's a Rebbe in my neighborhood that is yeshiva, not for boys that are off the derech, but for boys that don't a hundred percent fit the mold.
One of the kids on the block went to this yeshiva. He went to this yeshiva. And he married a Talmud Torah girl. And I want you to know, this kid is an amazing kid. He's so special, and this Talmud Torah girl is so deep. It's a beautiful shidduch between the two of them. And by the engagement, when I heard about it, because it was a guy from my block So this Rebbe was there And I asked, 'What's the shayches?' He's coming just as a neighbor. He said, 'No, my son was in his yeshiva.' He said, "You should know." He said, "When my son came to the yeshiva for his interview, for his faher, for his bechina After the bechina, the Rebbe looked at him and said, 'You're amazing. Could you please come to my yeshiva?' It was the first time that anyone had ever told that kid, 'You're amazing. Would you please come to my yeshiva?' This kid was used to having to earn love.
And instead, this rebbe said to him, "We want you." And it was an amazing gift. And the father, you said, he said, "You should know, if my son is anything today, it's because of the love that rebbe gave to him. Love redeems people. If you don't love, no one could love you back." If you're not willing to risk getting hurt, then no one could possibly hurt you. But also, you're irredeemable because you sit in the shadows, in the basement, in that dingy basement of your own life. That's what people do. That's what all of us do. It's not one person in this room that doesn't know what I'm talking about. Because to love is to be vulnerable, and every one of us has had that moment where we hold ourselves back from being our truest self because we don't want to face the possibility of rejection. I give a dating share for girls when they're about to start dating. I give a dating share online.
As small, I try to keep the group small, somewhere between 10 and 20 girls per group. I give a dating share online. There are five chapters of the dating share. The fifth one is heartbreak. It's how to handle loss. And I always tell the girls this last share really should be the first because if you're not capable of handling heartbreak, then you're not capable of putting yourself out there. But I can't give it to you first because nobody wants to start off a dating sheer by learning what's going to happen when they get broken up with Or when things don't go the way they want them to. Chas v'shalom, an engagement breaks. Nobody wants to deal with that first, so we have to save it to the end. But the truth of the matter is, the heartbreak shear could come first because unless you're willing to be vulnerable, unless you're willing to get hurt, nobody could possibly love you.
That's why first dates are so awkward because we know what we do. We put ourselves out there, and this is appropriate. We put ourselves out there just a little bit. I don't want to show you who I am. I got to let my crazy out a little bit at a time. I'm going to show you who I am just a little bit. On a first date, you have parents. I've got parents. You went to camp. I also went to camp. At the end of the first date, they go, how'd it go? It was not bad. And then at some point in everybody's married life, at some point when they were dating, you know what happens? There's one date where you actually wear your heart on your sleeve and you say Hineini, this is me. And that's the date where either there goes or it doesn't. But it's an amazing thing. Until that date, you're just putting your toe in the water.
And then after that, it's a whole different game. After that, you could love me despite my vulnerability. You could love me even though I just told you that my relationship with my mother is strained. You could love me even though I told you that I had this experience in high school that I'm really not proud of. And if the answer to that question is yes, then what do you have? What's the gift? The gift is that somebody gets to know you. It's called the gift of belonging. It's what every single person in this room wants. Every one of us wants to be known, but none of us are willing to show each other who we really are because we're afraid of rejection. So we all go into the basement and we hide in the basement and we lock ourselves in and we say, "You can't hurt me." Like little children do. It's not like little children do because you know what little children do. They wear their heart on their sleeves until the first time they're hurt.
That's why kids are so beautiful. I've never in my life met a kid who was three years old who didn't wear his heart on his sleeve. At three years old, they walk around, they come home with their project and go, "Aren't you proud of me? Look what I made!" By the time they're eight years old, you go, "Did you do anything in school?" They go, "No, school's dumb." Didn't you make anything? It's still terrible. Why? Because nobody wants the rejection. It's the saddest thing in the world. Because we teach people that you're not capable of being okay even when you get hurt, which means that you have two choices in life. Either you know that you are enough for yourself. Firmly planted in your own soil, which means that even though somebody might hurt you You're gonna be okay. And by the way, you for sure will be hurt because if you love, you're gonna be hurt. You're gonna be hurt sometimes by your kids. You're going to be hurt sometimes by your husbands, not because they don't love you, but because that's the nature of relationships. It's one small square, and we're all trying to live with it.
By the way, take a second and think about the hurt that you caused people in your own family, people who love you more than anything. If you were a girl who, at any point, ever said to her mother, 'Are you really going to wear that when you go out?' Just trying to gauge the room to see how many of you have done that. It was fascinating to watch. Some of you went like this. Do you know that mom goes back upstairs and it hurt her feelings? Let me take one step back. Did you know that your parents have feelings? Second Toma Devora moment for the man. What about your siblings? What are the words you wish you could take back? What are the words that were said to you that you wish were never said? Everyone here thinks their marriage is going to be different. Their marriage is going to be perfect. No marriage is perfect.
All marriages are hard. Marriage is designed tension. That's what Ezer Kinegdo means. You become a better person, a more refined person, a more godly person by working through things. Nobody's gonna get through life unscathed. I remember when I was a bachelor My roommate was a tzaddik. A tzaddik of a guy. One of these guys is so nice, so gentle. And when he was dating his wife Or like he found her in a girl, like one of these real edelmaedel, like the loudest she's ever been is hi. And then when they got engaged, it was like I don't know how to say this nicely it was like gross you know what I'm saying they were like so lovey dovey he's great she's amazing the wedding was in Baltimore anyone here from Baltimore okay I'm about to insult you nobody from New York wants to go to Baltimore for a wedding we all get in the car we go to Baltimore for the wedding we got there a little bit early we're throwing around the football in the parking lot I'll never forget and the Masada Kedushin our Rebbe Under the chuppah, turns to me, and I'm one of the aedim under the chuppah.
And he looks at me and he goes "How upset does it make you to know that this couple is never going to have shalom bayis issues?" I'm like, "Rabbi, it's the chuppah. Maybe we shouldn't talk about this right now. We could discuss it at a different time." But the truth is, I don't think he was right Because even the sweetest people, even the nicest people, even the people that are so mevatter Everybody insults somebody by accident. Everybody does something they don't mean to do. Nobody's trying to hurt anybody, but of course we bump up against each other. So if you know that you're enough for yourself, then you know what you do. You say, "I'll be okay." I could take a hit. I could stand up for myself And I could say, 'Hey, that wasn't okay the way you treated me.' And I could forgive them for being human, and maybe I could find some empathy and some compassion because I also hurt them sometimes, even though I don't mean to. And maybe I can understand where they're coming from, and maybe we could stretch for each other and work things out.
Or we can just go to our separate corners and never speak to each other again. We could live in the same house and have nothing to do with each other. Those are your only two options. Option number one is you're enough for yourself and you dare to love. Option number two is you're not enough for yourself, so you shut it down. Because I can't possibly take another hit. I can't possibly take another insulting situation. I can't possibly take another insensitivity. The story of the Ish Hashunamis is a powerful lesson. Because she was an isha gedola She was a huge person. She was a known person. She was a tzadekes, but you know what? She didn't have. She didn't have kids. But you know why? Because in her heart, she was afraid to love something that she could lose. And when Eliezer Hanavi came to her and he said, 'What do you need? Are you in any danger? Do you need me to speak to a general? Do you need me to speak to a king?'
Betoch am chani yoshavas. I have everything that I need. I'm surrounded by people. Nobody could hurt me. I'm invincible. You know why she was invincible? Because she didn't dare to love. All the friendships in the world, but having a child means giving your full self over to somebody else. Friendship is different than marriage. Friendship is different than parenting. Friendship is about closeness. Marriage is about oneness. Having a child is the ultimate oneness. It's the greatest expression of you. It's you coming into this world as another human being. That level of love was too vulnerable for her. So Gechazi said she doesn't have a kid. Alicia said, 'Great, Hashem will bless you with a child.' Her reaction is defensive. Don't promise something you can't keep. Don't promise something you can't keep. The reason I didn't want a child is because of what happens if the child dies?
But she has the child. And the child does die, because that is the way of the world. Sometimes we lose things that we love. And that loss—I'm going to say it—it's going to be hard to hear. That loss is okay. It doesn't mean that it doesn't crush you. It does in ways that you can't possibly imagine. But even at the end of that crushing loss, you're still okay. And I'll share with you. I know this is going to sound funny because for me, she was 90 years old and you'll say 90 years old. How could that be a crushing loss? My grandmother was a second mother. I didn't have one mom. I had two. My mother is amazing. I love her with all my heart. She's an amazing woman. My grandmother called every single day. She was a part of our lives. She always used to call during dinner. It didn't matter what time dinner was—five o'clock, five thirty, six o'clock. Somehow she knew when dinner was, and she always called. My father would always get upset. He would go, "How does your mother know when to call during dinner?" But honestly, as a kid growing up, I would say, "How nice is it that my grandmother calls every single day?" And when we went on family vacations, she was there with us. And Yomim Tovim, she came to the house. And any time we could, we went to New Jersey to visit her.
And she was the sweetest, nicest person I've ever met in my entire life. My grandmother had a heart of gold. The nastiest thing she ever said to us, like when we were really rowdy, I'm like tearing down her house. She used to say to us, "Now, boys, simmer down." Simmer down, Grandma. You know I loved her. She was amazing. She was Momish's second mother to me, and not only was she a second mother, she was my role model. Because my grandmother became a Balas Chovah when she was 70 years old. At 70, she started keeping Shabbos. At 70, she started keeping kosher. At 70, she started dressing tzniyus. At 70, she became judgmental of all my non-religious cousins. She was totally Orthodox. She was an amazing person. And when I would go to visit her, when she got older, and I was already living in Eretz Israel Any time I was in New Jersey, I would always go to visit her.
And I would always surprise her. Then she would take me around, like elderly people take you around to show off your grandkids. This is my grandson, the rabbi. He's Hispanic. I don't think he cares. She was my role model. She was my inspiration. She was such a girl. Who changes their life at seventy? And when COVID broke out, and she was living in an assisted living facility in New Jersey, for those of you that know So the COVID just ran through those assisted living facilities and it was wiped out, everyone who was living there. My grandmother passed by somebody in the hall who had COVID. Two weeks later, she passed away. And I couldn't go to the funeral because I was in Israel. I couldn't be there in the hospital for her as she was dying. And I'm the family rabbi. I always expected somewhere. I never wanted to speak about it out loud, but somewhere, where you have those things in your head that you don't talk about. I knew that I'm going to get a phone call from my mother, and she's going to say it's time.
And we're going to. My parents live here in Israel, and I knew that they were going to get on a plane. They were going to be there in the end. I knew what it would look like. I knew how I would hold her hand at the end. I knew how I would say vidui with her. And I knew how I would have the honor of burying my grandmother. And here I am, six thousand miles away, and I can't get to one of the most people that I love most in the world. It was heartbreaking. It was devastating. And I'll be honest with you, I didn't allow myself to feel it because it was so painful. I didn't want to go there. It was one of the hardest things in the world. And it took a long time to have her unveiling because so many people from COVID passed away. They couldn't make the stones fast enough. They couldn't make the monuments to put on the grave. So she didn't have her unveiling for a year and a half until COVID ended and we could get there. And when I got up there as the family rabbi to do the unveiling, I got up to speak and I could not stop crying. It was rivers of tears that were pouring out. My father was sitting next to me.
And he was just rubbing my shoulder. He was just sitting there holding me, and I was crying like a child, and I couldn't get myself together. I speak professionally for a living; I couldn't get the words out. It was all the unfelt feeling, all the stuff that I didn't want to feel for that entire year and a half. Now I'm standing at her grave, and I'm just a mess. And I have to tell you, it was probably one of the most beautiful emotions I've ever had in my entire life. To lose someone is to love someone, and the grief is so powerful. Grief is the most unbelievable expression of love. All I want to do is be with you, and you're the only person I can't talk to right now. I feel so upset at myself that it took me a year and a half to feel those feelings. Of course, I cried over those the year and a half, but I barely let myself in. I went into that coffin and I locked myself away and I made my heart impenetrable because I said I don't want to let anyone in. I don't want to get hurt. I don't want to feel these bad feelings. It's exactly what the Ishashunamis did.
It's exactly what the Ishasunamis did. The Ishasunamis said I don't want to love because I'm going to lose. So she comes to Alicia. The most powerful moment. What does she do? She comes to Alicia. And she won't even tell Gechazi. Gechazi says, "Are you okay? Is your husband okay? Is your kid okay?" She says, "No, not yet." I'm not yet ready to show anyone this emotion. I have to show it to Alicia. He's the one who betrayed me. She grabs him by the legs, which means she was prostrated on the ground. She's holding onto the legs and she's saying. I didn't ask you for this. I didn't want this. I told you, don't betray me. If you're going to give me a bracha, then it has to be for the whole thing. But now, paradoxically, something amazing can happen. She loves that kid so much that Alicia is able to perform tchias hamesim.
That you can keep someone alive. Or you can even bring something back to life if you're willing to go through the pain of loss. Love is on the other side. Things can be reborn. This Navi, this story of Navi, is arguably for me one of the most powerful stories in all of Tanakh. It's a story about a mother who refused to love, and because she refused to love, she couldn't bring a child into the world. But once the child was born into the world, and she gave him her heart, she learned the most powerful lesson in the world. And for everyone here who's going to be a mother, this is for you. Amen. Amen. It's gonna hurt But that's what's beautiful. That's how you give life to your child. That's how you rebirth relationships. Just because something died doesn't mean it can't be reborn. Remember that life cannot die.
Life is like salt. Salt can't go bad. If salt goes bad, you know it's not salt. Life cannot die. If it could die, then it's not life. Alive can die, because alive is just a condition. But life can't die, which means that even if something is on the brink, and even if you think something is already over Everything is always redeemable. You can have tchias amesim if you learn to feel the love of loss. And that is perhaps one of the most important lessons that we can have in our lives. Dare to love. I'm going to get hurt. First of all, you'll be okay. Second of all, on the other side of that grief is the greatest love you've ever known, and from that love Can be a tchiasa mesa. Girls have a wonderful Shabbos.
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