Come Make Kiddush

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.

On the morning of Simchas Torah, while we were in the North, my father got an emergency call to go to the battleground in the South. I understood that something terrible had happened, but I didn’t imagine how terrible.

Three of my friends had gotten up to daven vasikin, and the miserable murderers got them on their way to davening, Hy’d. My plan had been to daven vasikin along with my friends, and it was only the fact that I traveled up North to be with my parents that saved my life.

We don’t know cheshbonos Shamayim, but from what we see, we can learn that the zechus of honoring my parents stood by me, and the zechus of my parents, who wanted to be mischazeik, stood by them, and their son remained alive.