view from central park: tehilla r. goldberg

Even in Concealment: Comfort over angel’s loss

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An angel walked among us. Now he is no more. Malachi — My Angel — Rosenfeld was riding in a car with his buddies, on their way home from a basketball meet, when he was shot at by a Palestinian terrorist.

All four young men were shot; one of the wounds, Malachi’s, was critical. “Matsav anush,” the news said. When you hear these words, you know it means the person is already oscillating between this world and the next. Malachi succumbed to his wounds, and an angel who walked amongst us was cruelly ripped from this world.

These guys in their 20s happened to be driving on a road to their “settlement,” a point repeatedly highlighted in the news, as if it makes any difference. Anyone could have been in that car — say, a Tel Aviv resident attending a Bar Mitzvah. The Palestinian had no idea. It’s a matter of egalitarian killing; terrorists don’t discriminate among which Jews they murder.

Just this week I was recommending the song “Ve’Afilu Be’Hastara” (“Even in Concealment”) to a friend struggling through a difficult time. The lyrics are from Rabbi Nachman of Bratslav, roughly translated as, “Even while you feel trapped in the darkness of concealment within concealment, certainly, there too, G-d is present. Behind all the painful experiences you are struggling through, there too I stand” (“ve-afilu be-hastara . . . shebetoch ha-hastara . . . be-vadai gam sham nimtza Hashem Yitbarach. Gam me-achorei ha-devarim ha-kashim ha-ovrim alecha . . . ani omed . . . ani omed . . . ani omed”).

It is the ultimate paradoxical declaration of faith in G-d, even in times of abandonment. The song is strong for its first-person narrative, giving G-d Himself voice, as if He were speaking with you.

Recently, when I was in the hospital with a loved one, my nephew sweetly called and said he wanted to cheer us up by singing a song for us. At age eight, he didn’t realize the impact and timing of the words and the melody, as he began singing and playing on his organ, “Ve-afilu be-hastara…”

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