Shloshim

Yesterday I mentioned that I took it upon myself to make sure the names of the fallen IDF soldiers are recited Friday night for Shloshim, the thirty day period of mourning. The Temple's office manager, Derrick, was happy to copy and paste all the names last week from the website I sent him but as the list has sadly grown this week I decided to do this chore for him. There are 53 names at this writing; let's pray there are no more.

While copying and pasting the names into a spreadsheet I looked at all the young faces of the fallen soldiers. They could be my sons, or let's face it, my grandsons. Some were only 18 or 19. Such gorgeous punims! Could there be anything more handsome than the warm smile and confident gaze of an Israeli soldier in uniform? How horribly sad that their young lives have been cut so short.

I also could not help but notice that no two seemed to come from the same town or kibbutz. It seems that the pain of our losses must be spread across all of Israel and felt in every community.

When I was in Israel in 2011 I learned that not every eligible young person can serve as a combat soldier. They take an exam that determines where they will serve and how they can best contribute. There certainly are enough support jobs to go around and each is important. But oh how special are those who put their young lives on the line to defend children and families and Holocaust survivors and refugees from other lands and victims of persecution.

May their memories be for blessing. Forever.