I teach bachurim who have discovered the light of truth, and they learn in a yeshivah in Petach Tikvah. These wonderful bachurim are bnei aliyah and yarei Shamayim. One sixteen-year-old talmid shared with me his own hair-raising tale, and at the end he asked me to learn mishnayos in memory of his friends who were killed al kiddush Hashem, Hy”d. This is his story:
I live in Sderot. My parents are not yet shomrei Torah umitzvos, and I needed to find my own path. My parents decided to travel up North for Simchas Torah. I could imagine what type of Yom Tov I would have with them, so decided not to join them. Instead, I planned to stay home in Sderot, together with a few other bachurim in similar situations. We prepared food, organized whatever we needed, and I prepared with great joy for Shemini Atzeres, zman simchaseinu.
On Hoshana Rabbah, when I returned from davening, I found a note on the kitchen table, written in my dear mother’s handwriting: “My son, please come with us to make Kiddush and give us chizuk. Ima.”
My mother’s note indicated her desire to come closer to Hashem and to be mischazeik. If I don’t make them Kiddush, I thought, who will make them Kiddush? And if my parents are asking for chizuk, how could I not give it to them? I was in a tight spot. I didn’t know what to do. I called the rav, and he told me that it would certainly be better for me to travel up North to be with my parents.
I called my mother immediately, and she told me that they were already quite a distance from Sderot, but they would come back to get me.
