Our Brother’s Keeper

BY HINDA GROSS

---

I pray that, by the time this article is published, the bodies of our murdered brothers and sisters have been buried with dignity in our sacred land. I pray that the living hostages are reunited with their families and can begin the healing process. As I write this in spring 2025, I am praying our nation is looking out for each other, that we are supporting our army, and that our soldiers stay God-fearing, strong, clever, and enthusiastic.

At the beginning of the war, I was paired with hostages in whose merit I dedicate myself. One of the hostages that I’ve devoted my mitzvot and tefillot to is named Tsachi Idan. I am writing this a day after his body was among the four released in a political deal. Just as I have cried and prayed for Tsachi’s return, I hope that my prayers will bring back every single soul who longs for home. 

Hoping and praying help to heal us, but they do not fully repair the damage that our memories carry. Where do we find the blueprint to rebuild ourselves and recover the sanctity of our homeland? Can the answer be found in the natural world? Nature moves on; no matter how many times bark is ripped off a tree, it will grow back. So, when will this heartbreak cease? When will this brokenhearted emptiness, like nature, heal itself? The rainy season has come, because of it there are now fresh blossoms all around me. Still, I feel weak and hollow. I know that the moon will shine tonight, and in about a week it will begin to hide again. Such is the cycle of feeling and faith.. 

I see God’s presence; I am angry. I blame Him, I forgive. I lose myself in the world and again, the moon and God seem hidden. I open up, like blossomed flowers, and then I find Him.

Maybe the vitality of the natural world manifests itself in the innocence and vitality of our youth. Maybe that too, is Am Yisrael’s redemption. In the nearby park, I see children running up and rolling down the hills. I see children racing down the slides, picking flowers to sniff and taste, and ripping grass out by the tiny fistful. They are free. The purity of our youth is a reminder of how much is on the line. We live as their examples. If we are not taking care of one another, and we harbor sinat chinam (baseless hatred) in our hearts, how will our youth respond?

By not loving each other, we are teaching the children of our nation that we do what the enemy does, but we do it from within. This problem of not caring for our brothers is internal, and it is exactly what is preventing us from healing. We must do our part in uniting, forgiving, and believing. 

I beseech God to answer and teach me. How many more homes will be broken by the knock of the מערך הנפגעים,the IDF’s Casualty Division, which will bring the news of their beloved’s last breath? How many more demonstrations, shiva visits, and angry families will it take for us to mourn as one, with one broken heart, regardless of difference in customs, language, political leanings, and moral beliefs? How much more blood will be shed? One drop is too much. How many more days will the fathers, brothers, and sons of our nation scream out for the help of God, thirty meters deep in the rot of Jabalia? 

Does God expect us to make peace with the murderers of His souls? The men who murdered a ten-month-old baby and his four-year-old brother? Just how many more times will the sight of a young ginger child cause me to cry? Were the beautiful Bibas souls not tormented enough?

Kfir Bibas was born on my sixteenth birthday. He didn’t even make it to his first. I am eighteen now, and only on February 20, 2025, did his remains reach home for a proper burial. We are taught by our tradition that the soul does not abandon the body until it is buried. His has been floating just above, in anguish. Finally, solace has been brought to him now that his body rests in the earth. How can we cope with such a tragedy? His brother Ariel was four years old. Four. Who will bring his case and that of his brother, Ariel, before the heavenly tribunal and testify?

One more hostage returned in a coffin is too much. One more murder is too much. In Bereishit, after Cain murdered  his brother Abel, God rebuked him with the words, “מֶ֣ה עָשִׂ֑יתָ? ק֚וֹל דְּמֵ֣י אָחִ֔יךָ צֹעֲקִ֥ים אֵלַ֖י מִן־הָֽאֲדָמָֽה׃,” “What have you done? The blood of your brother screams to me from the earth.” I feel my brother’s blood crying to me from deep within the earth. Cain refused the call, but I won’t. When God gave Cain the opportunity to repent, he hid. Are we hiding from God too? The blood of my family is my blood. Their hurt is my hurt. Justice for them is justice for me. So how can I go on living, while I know they are crying?

I have learned through processing this war that alone, I am weak. The visionary scholar Elie Wiesel taught me in his work, The Trial of God, that to blame God for my pain hurts me too. He writes: “After all, Auschwitz was not something that came down ready-made from heaven. It was conceived by men, implemented by men, staffed by men. And their aim was to destroy not only us but You as well. Ought we not to think of Your pain, too? Watching Your children suffer at the hands of Your other children, haven’t You also suffered?” 

Wiesel continues, “Let us make up, Master of the Universe. In spite of everything that happened? Yes, in spite. Let us make up: for the child in me, it is unbearable to be divorced from You so long.” We must learn from Wiesel, to first return to God in order to rebuild and to heal. We must remember to relate to Him, and to see and recognize Him, especially during our times of hurt.

Around the world, many are speaking in silence, yet somehow the noise is ear-splitting. Today’s Jewish youth have grown up through this; this narrative shapes our lives. Let the world not think any of us will keep our hearts shut or our words inside. We will be the living primary sources to get up on the stand and testify. We will also be the ones who will build, who will study, who will adapt, who will train, who will argue, who will cry, who will embrace, and who will not stop until our family is whole once more. We will do it together. There is no other option. Let our enemies fear the chutzpah of our youth.

The answer to how we can rebuild ourselves through our pain is Cain’s last sentence before God rebukes him. When God sees Cain hiding from Him, He asks him the whereabouts of his brother Abel (whom he has just killed) and Cain’s answer is as famous as can be. “הֲשֹׁמֵ֥ר אָחִ֖י אָנֹֽכִי׃” “Am I my brother’s keeper?” The blueprint for how Am Yisrael must rebuild lies in changing the punctuation from Cain’s question into a declarative statement. The way to rebuild and to move forward is to be our brother’s keeper. We must take care of one another, advocate for each other, challenge, embrace, and encourage each other. The way to move forward and connect to God is to tell God that we are… הֲשֹׁמֵ֥ר אָחִ֖י ,אָנֹֽכִי—our brother’s keeper—without question.