The Emotional Rollercoaster of the Yom’s

There is something overwhelmingly emotional about Yom Hazikaron and Yom Ha’atzmaut just a week after Yom Hashoah. First, we try to properly capture the magnitude of the Holocaust – the trauma, horror, and heroism. Then, in what is very different than our American experience, Israel transitions in a mere 24 hours from somberly remembering those killed establishing and defending the State to joyously celebrating her independence. Talk about a busy week!

We’re on a rollercoaster ride of emotion with a lot to process. Here is a story that touches all the bases.

Rabbi Yisroel Zev Gustman may have been one of the greatest rabbis of the 20th century that nobody ever heard of. His meteoric rise from child prodigy to the exalted position of religious judge in the Rabbinical Court of the famed Rabbi Chaim Ozer Grodzinski at the age of 20 was the stuff of legend - but nonetheless fact. While a long productive career on the outskirts of Vilna could have been anticipated, Jewish life was obliterated by the pain of World War II. Rav Gustman escaped, though not unscathed. He hid among corpses. He hid in caves and under bushes. He hid in a pig pen. He somehow survived.

After the war, and a brief sojourn in America, Rav Gustman became the head of a yeshiva in the Rechavia section of Jerusalem, Netzach Yisrael. He taught a small group of loyal students six days a week. But on Thursdays at noon, the study hall would fill to capacity: Rabbis, intellectuals, religious court judges, a Supreme Court justice and various professors would join along with all who sought a high-level Talmud class. When Rav Gustman delivered a lecture, Vilna was once again alive and vibrant.

One of the regular participants was a professor at the Hebrew University, Robert J. (Yisrael) Aumann. Once a promising yeshiva student, he had eventually decided to pursue a career in academia (and was awarded the Nobel Prize in Economics in 2005) but made his weekly participation in Rav Gustman's class part of his schedule. The year was 1982, and, once again, Israel was at war. Soldiers were mobilized, reserve units activated. Among those called up for duty was a university student and young father who made his living as a high school teacher: Shlomo Aumann, Professor Aumann's son. On the eve of the 19th of Sivan, in particularly fierce combat, Shlomo fell in battle.

Rav Gustman mobilized his yeshiva to participate in the funeral and burial of the fallen soldier. After the burial, he told his driver, "Take me to Professor Aumann's home."

The family had just returned from the cemetery and would now begin the week of shiva mourning for their son, brother, husband and father. Rav Gustman entered and asked to sit next to Professor Auman. He spoke, first in Yiddish and then in Hebrew, so that all those assembled would understand:
 

I am sure that you don't know this, but I had a son named Meir. He was a beautiful child. He was taken from my arms and executed. I escaped. I later bartered my child's shoes so that we would have food, and I gave it away to others. My Meir is a kadosh - he is holy. He and all the six million who perished are holy.
 

I will tell you what is transpiring now in Gan Eden. My Meir is welcoming your Shlomo into the minyan and is saying to him “I died because I am a Jew, but I wasn't able to save anyone else. But you, Shlomo, you died defending the Jewish People and the Land of Israel.

 

My Meir is a kadosh, holy, but your Shlomo is a Shaliach Tzibbur -- a Cantor in that heavenly minyan."

Rav Gustman continued: "I never had the opportunity to sit shiva for my Meir; let me sit here with you just a little longer."

Professor Aumann replied, "I thought I could never be comforted, but Rebbi, you have comforted me."

Rav Gustman and his wife would attend an annual parade held in Jerusalem before Pesach. They would join their fellow spectators and excitedly watch the children march through the streets. When asked by a colleague why he participated in this annual event, he replied, “We who saw a generation of children die will take pleasure in a generation of children who sing and dance in the streets of Jerusalem.”        

Rav Gustman experienced firsthand the horrors of the Shoah, appreciated the heroism and sacrifice of those who defend Israel, and rejoiced in the miracle of Israel’s rebirth. He and those with similar experiences lived the rollercoaster of the days we commemorate and are the perfect guides for our generation. We need to remember. We need to acknowledge the murder of the innocent and the sacrifice of brave warriors, and then we need to celebrate God’s gift of the State of Israel. Am Yisrael Chai!