Dear Rivka,
Two weeks ago, I did not know you and you did not know me. Now, I am searching your beautiful face in pictures, reading about you everywhere, haunted that a Jewish sister was murdered because of who she was, and the goodness she did. A Jew, reaching out to fellow Jews, offering them spiritual and physical sustenance in the warmth of your home. And perhaps, as your soul looks down from heaven, you know me and many others in a way you did not know before, as we grieve over your tragic, untimely departure from this world, and for your little orphaned son, Moishele.
You have joined the immortalized millions of dedicated Jewish mothers, many who did not know they would be tragically leaving their children so abruptly. And yet, from the pogroms of Poland to the ashes of Auschwitz, the values that they left with their children transcended the destruction of their bodies, living on and on for generations and generations, decades and centuries later—in the young mothers that are still making Shabbat meals, still singing the Shema to their little ones... In the parents that are still infusing their natural love for their children with Jewish ideals.
The largeness of your death, and the life in little Moishele's soulful eyes, beg me to ask myself: How am I expressing my values in my daily existence? What are we proudly, definitively, giving our children – beyond their inborn eyes, lips, distinct laughs that resemble our own – that will fade with every mingling of new genes and generations? Beyond their skills and schooling? With every new era, much of these academics and skills will change, or perhaps become obsolete with the winds of time. Are we giving them the eternal values that give meaning to their lives and hold them during their sorrows?
Dear great-grandmothers, grandmothers, and mothers.
Dear Rivka.
We will live what you died for.
With an aching but hopeful heart,
A Fellow Jewish Sister and Mother




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