O pinion
My Son Was at Mount Meron
BY RABBI ROBYN FRISCH
LAST THURSDAY EVENING,
as I was about to close my
computer, I saw the news alert
from The New York Times:
“Breaking News: At least 15
people are dead and dozens are
injured after a stampede at a
religious celebration in Israel.”
A surge of panic ran through
my body. I stopped reading
because I knew this happened at
Mount Meron, the site of the tomb
of Rabbi Shimon Bar Yochai,
where over 100,000 chasids
and other Jews had gathered to
celebrate Lag b’Omer.

This tragedy would have been
upsetting in any circumstances.

But my terrified reaction was
deeply personal: My 21-year-
old son was there. Horrifying
thoughts ran through my head.

What kind of devastating
things had he witnessed? Was
he injured? I couldn’t let myself
think beyond that.

The Friday before, my son
had told me that his yeshiva in
Jerusalem was providing a bus for
students who wanted to celebrate
Lag b’Omer at Mount Meron. I
was so excited for him. During the
eight months he’s been in Israel, he
hasn’t been able to leave Jerusalem
very often due to COVID-19
restrictions. Now he was getting to
travel and participate in a unique
experience that I knew he would
find deeply spiritual.

My son and I are both deeply
passionate about Judaism, but
our practices differ enormously:
I am a Reform rabbi and he
is haredi Orthodox. I myself
had been to Mount Meron on
Lag b’Omer some 25 years ago,
JEWISHEXPONENT.COM and I still remember it well
— the thousands of chasidic
men dancing and singing; the
3-year-old boys getting their first
haircuts; the bonfires and the
joyful celebration.

But here I was at home in
Philadelphia feeling helpless and
terrified about my son. It was after
8:30 p.m. — way past the time I’d
normally call him, as Israel is
seven hours ahead of us — but
this night was different. Fingers
trembling, I reached for my
phone and dialed, but I couldn’t
get through. Nightmare scenarios
raced through my brain.

As I sat there, practically
unable to move, my phone rang
— I saw that it was my husband,
who wasn’t home at the time.

He had reached our son and he
was safe. He described sensing
trauma in my son’s voice, but
at that moment only one thing
mattered to me: He was alive! I
was so relieved, so grateful.

I learned the next day that the
death toll was 45, and more than
150 people were injured. I finally
talked to my son before Shabbat
began in Israel, and he told me
that two young men from his
yeshiva were still missing.

Throughout Shabbat, all
I could think about was what
happened at Mount Meron. Forty-
five human beings; 45 families
that had lost loved ones. I was so
grateful that my son was alive,
and at the same time felt terrible
pain for the parents, grandpar-
ents, siblings and children who
weren’t so fortunate. I could have
been one of them.

I haven’t been able to bring
myself to read a single article
about what happened, though I
see the headlines and I hear people
talk about it. I envision the crush
of people and innocent people
dying of asphyxiation. All I’ve
read on the topic are the emails
from my son’s yeshiva. Yesterday’s
email informed us that there was
a funeral for one young man from
the yeshiva on Saturday night,
after Shabbat ended; there were
two more on Sunday.

Because my son is on a
religious path that’s so different
than mine, I often think about
how dissimilar our family is
from those of his haredi peers.

We have three kids, while many
of them have 10 or 12. Our
understanding and observance
of Jewish law is very different.

But these past few days, I can’t
stop thinking about how similar
we are; how much all Jews —
and all humans, for that matter
— love their children. Haredi
parents may have more children
than I do, but I know that losing
one of them is every bit as tragic
for them as it would be for me.

While we are deeply grateful
that our son is physically
unharmed, my husband and I
worry that he could be suffering
from PTSD. Fortunately, I am
incredibly impressed with how
his yeshiva, which I have always
respected but usually feel I can’t
relate to, is handling this devas-
tating situation. It has provided
counseling for those who want
— the young men can even
make anonymous phone calls
to a counselor — and is working
to get entry permits to Israel for
those parents who want to visit
their sons.

Knowing that my son is in
good hands gives me comfort.

But no matter what I’m doing,
my mind drifts to Mount Meron,
imagining that horrific evening
that my son was lucky enough
to survive — but many others
weren’t. I find myself constantly
fighting back tears, although
sometimes I don’t bother to hold
them back.

I will continue to pray and
mourn for all the families who
lost loved ones, with the humble
acknowledgment that we are far
more alike than we are different.

May the memories of these 45
souls be a blessing. l
Rabbi Robyn Frisch is the director
of the Rukin Rabbinic Fellowship
for 18Doors as well as the spiritual
leader of Temple Menorah
Keneseth Chai in Northeast
Philadelphia. This op-ed first
appeared on Kveller.

JEWISH EXPONENT
KVETCH ’N’ KVELL
IHRA Program Needed Third Panelist
I WISH TO RESPOND to one point of disagreement in Jesse
Bernstein’s April 29 article, “Panel on IHRA Anti-Semitism
Rankles.” Would the panel discussion co-sponsored by
Congregation Rodeph Shalom and Temple University’s Feinstein
Center for American Jewish History have been objectionable to
Murray Friedman, z”l, the center’s founder?
Well, yes, and no.

My first Jewish job was as Friedman’s assistant from 1979-83.

An intellectual giant and mensch, Friedman introduced me to
and got me totally hooked on the field of Jewish community
relations where I ended up spending my entire professional
career. He was a strong supporter of Israel and Zionism, but he
also was not afraid to criticize those Israeli policies with which
he disagreed.

A neo-conservative in a community dominated by liberals, he
constantly challenged our conventional wisdom. In that regard,
I believe he would have approved of a program that explored
the use or misuse of the IHRA definition of antisemitism. I also
believe — in the interest of exposing participants to a full range
of opinions — that he would have preferred to see a third panelist
on the program to defend the current use of the IHRA anti-Semi-
tism definition advocated by establishment Jewish organizations.

That was an important, yet missing perspective.

Martin J. Raffel | Langhorne
Simple Arithmetic
One sentence spoken by Joyce Ajlouny, general secretary of
the American Friends Service Committee, reveals the perver-
sity of modern antisemitic liberal education. (“Panel on IHRA
Anti-Semitism Definition Rankles” April 29).

She complained that the criticism over what many perceived
as the antisemitism of the chosen panelists “affirms that the
attempt to silence narratives is alive and well.”
In fact, in the real world there are no narratives, only facts.

Two and two equals four. There is no narrative to make two and
two equal five or three except in the minds of modern antisemitic
liberal educators.

“Educators” that teach students to just create their own narra-
tives that two and two equals five or three or anything you want
about modern Middle East history and we will coddle you and
say it’s all true, because everyone is entitled to their own narra-
tive regardless of the facts.

Sorry, there are facts about modern Middle East history, not
narratives, and as much as you wish it were true, two and two
does not equal three or five. l
Richard Sherman | Margate, Florida
STATEMENT FROM THE PUBLISHER
We are a diverse community. The views expressed in the signed opinion columns and let-
ters to the editor published in the Jewish Exponent are those of the authors. They do
not necessarily reflect the views of the officers and boards of the Jewish Publishing
Group, the Jewish Federation of Greater Philadelphia or the Jewish Exponent. Send
letters to letters@jewishexponent.com or fax to 215-569-3389. Letters should be a
maximum of 200 words and may be edited for clarity and brevity. Unsigned letters will not be
published. MAY 6, 2021
19