Until you know. Until the
family Whatsapp pings: “Everyone ok? Pigua
tzomet hagush* 2 injured.”
Telling your heart to be still,
you think: “My husband.”
You do a head count.
Then you know it’s not your
family, and the wondering begins. Who is it?
And it comes to you. You don’t
know why and you push it away, the knowledge. But somehow you know. It’s Ari
Fuld.
There is no reason to think it.
No reason this particular name comes to you. You don’t know why you know, but
you do.
(Later a friend tells me she
had the same premonition. “I had the same premonition but refused to voice my
suspicion. Instead I sent text messages to him that went unanswered and kept
watching the 'last seen at 11:02' line, hoping it would change.”)
Maybe I knew because always,
the best of us are taken. Because whom else would God take like that, a holy
martyr, but the best of the best?
And so it had to be Ari, a
voice of truth in a great wilderness of evil. Whom else would evil want to
still, squelch, silence, but Ari? Which meant that it was never his broad,
strong back that presented itself as a target, but goodness and light, the
truth.
After the fact, many spoke of
conspiracy, of targeted assassination. But I know in my heart it was not. The
Ari I knew would never have left himself open like that for so long. It was
meant to be, a cosmic battle.
Now it might seem to some that
evil won, because Ari was taken from us in a cruel and horrible way. And they
aren’t wrong. A terrible evil was unleashed, a precious gem fitting only for
the King’s crown stolen by blood-sullied hands.
But at the moment the awful
news filtered down to our nation, a greater force was unleashed, our nation was
seized with the knowledge of Ari’s holiness, his purpose, and we were as one!
Those of us who chose to be as
one.
And there are many of us.
 |
| A Kfar Etzion family set out a drinks table, knowing that the thousands who walked from all over to say goodbye to Ari, might get thirsty along the way. |
Ari would tell you, if he were
here, that the forces of evil are great in our day, but while our numbers are
smaller, our impact is greater, more important. And you can know it with your
heart when you see the tidal wave of grief that has swept through our nation.
You know it at midnight as an orderly crowd sings quiet songs of faith as one,
brought together in a pine-scented space in the land Ari loved, he the Lion of
Judah, us now the inheritor of his torch, to light the way of truth, to never
give up.
To always love the land and own
it, and know deep down that God gave it only to us. To know that we are the
stewards of this land and that each and every one of us has a responsibility to
know this truth deep in our hearts.
Ari would want us to finally
glean the takeaway: The land is ours if we earn it and it is our duty to claim
it at every juncture and never weaken, to never give an inch. Not of land and
not of ideology.
Because this is important work:
the most important work there is. And it’s all about the truth and seeing the
truth, fighting for the truth in all its colors and clarity, a sparkling
brilliant thing.
Ari taught us that the truth
and the land are things to love. And the simple truth is that this beautiful land
is ours and always will be. The truth won last night, as Ari found his final
resting place where his bones and flesh would nourish the land he loved, and become
one with it.
Ari is now part of our land and
our truth. And we will carry him with us always as we fight the forces of evil
and keep desperate hold of what we are destined to hold and cherish. Ari lit
the way for us, made the path so clear, so simple. He fought with knowledge and
with truth, and when push came to shove, with his hands and feet and a weapon
of cold steel.
We too, must be ready to fight
with everything we’ve got. No matter what we’re called to do. No matter what
situation or evil ensnarls us, surrounds us, confronts us.
The truth is all that matters.
Ari knew that and he knew what he had to do. He was always encouraging others
to fight the fight in their own way, with their own special God-given tools.
It was never about him, what he
did, who he was. It was all for our nation, our people, our land. A single
thread of truth connecting all these strands. That’s who Ari was.
And when we lost him, we gained
the knowledge of just how holy he was, and the nature of his work as it had
been all along. Last night looking at the thousands who came to say goodbye to
Ari, I knew it and felt it: along with the great cloak of sadness that descended
on our people, a bright light of faith and holiness shone through. We knew as
one what we had lost, a national tragedy, and in our hearts, all of us pledged
faithfulness to God and to the way before us.
Ari had been stolen from us, but
the impact of his cruel, tragic murder had lit the way, revealing how he’d
lived his life and left a hero, a shining star to guide us, always there.
Forever.
Yehi zichro baruch.
*Terror attack at the Gush
Etzion Junction
(Video: Calgary United with Israel (CUWI) Edit: Igal Hecht)
(Video: Calgary United with Israel (CUWI) Edit: Igal Hecht)