In a moving post written by a teacher, Liat Winder Nokad, the director of a secular high school track in Jerusalem, she writes about taking her student to be manachem avel four families of Meron victims last week.

“I took my students with me. I told them beforehand to dress in a way that will respect the minhag ha’makom. I also covered my shoulders with a black shawl and put on a skirt on top of my jeans.”

“We went from house to house, with neighbors directing us to the right entrances…four mourning families in one neighborhood. The students and I uncomfortably found our way as we passed dozens of children with shaved heads and long payos looking at us curiously, speaking only fluent Yiddish.

“All the homes look the same. A small living room filled with sifrei kodesh. As many rooms as possible with a number of pull-out beds in each room. Suddenly I viewed the whole coronavirus era in a different light…how was it possible to stay at home together in such small homes with ten children?

“There were homes completely full of visitors and there was a home that I was alone with the mother and her sisters. And in every home, they were moved and happy that we came. They gave us drinks on the condition our brachos will be for the illui nishmas. ‘We’re all one Am,’ the women told me. ‘The tzaar of one person is the tzaar of all,’ and I nodded.

“My male students were separated from me immediately in every home. I gave them general instructions on the minhagim of nichum aveilim and I sent them to manage on their own.”

“And I, in every home, heard the pain all human beings share – of a bereaved mother, brother, sister, woman, boy – partially in Yiddish and partially in Hebrew – but all in agony.

“A sister who describes, again and again, the last conversation, children who tell how they stood in Meron and begged people not to stop looking for their father, a mother who screams at Abu Kabir that they should also let her identify her son – because just maybe there was some mistake.

“‘I remember your son’s Bar Mitzvah,’ one visitor told the mother. ‘I missed it,’ she said sadly.’

“Nu,” the mother answered with a sad smile. “Now you’ll also miss his wedding.” and she winked at the shocked women. And I thought to myself that in another incarnation, I would have gotten along with the mother quite well.

“And in all the homes – without exception – a complete acceptance of the din. Emunah in Hashem and their Rabbanim.”

“And in the last home, while I was in the middle of listening to a mother account the last moments of her son, suddenly I hear the sound of singing from the men’s section. Loud, thunderous, even familiar. I recognized all the words and tunes.”

“And if there had been a movie director behind the scenes, he couldn’t have directed the scene with more agony. The young beautiful mother continues speaking – sadly and calmly – and in the background the sound of singing increases. השבעתי אתכם בנות ירושלים… כי חולת אהבה אני… גם כי אלך בגיא צל מוות לא ארא רע..

“In the videos that my male students showed me afterward – you see the father and brothers sitting in a circle with Chareidi men, two IDF pilots in uniform, and my students – and together they sing heartbreaking songs, scorching the gates of Shamayim.”

“And during the singing, I cry to myself – hiding under my mask. And a woman brings me a cup of water and a tissue. ‘Thank you for coming,’ she tells me. ‘It moved us very much. We’re all Am Yisrael.'”

“Does the emunah help?’ I asked at one of the homes where there were hardly any visitors, when the silence became too agonizing for for me.

“‘What do you mean?’ they asked me in amazement. ‘How is it even possible without emunah?'”

(YWN Israel Desk – Jerusalem)