Sharing Memories

I thought I knew my brother. I was proven wrong during the week of shiva and the difficult days that followed, as incredible stories kept pouring in about him and his wife Rivky...

We reached the rooftop deck, where commandos landed and stormed the house in a vain attempt to rescue hostages. Amidst the rubble from the destruction of this holy place where innocent lives had been taken, we read the Book of Lamentations...

The way in which everything was done gave me the feeling that we were being filmed or something because he was just so enthusiastic. I could not believe in that moment how beautiful it all was; and just for me..

The storm began when, at eighteen, Prasad, emerging from his sheltered childhood, began to question his religious roots. Every home he'd visit boasted several idols...

Having her pray for me as I went in made me feel that everything would be alright and that all was right with the world. I had no idea that years later the world would become very, very wrong...

Today my tears flow freely as I write these memories. Who would have thought that in these very rooms filled with love and light, hate and darkness would end the lives of my dear friends?

Every guest at the Holtzberg’s table left with the odd (but special) feeling that we had somehow done our hosts an incredible favor by coming!

Gaby just said, "Let's jump over the wall," which was six feet high. A very minor impediment when you consider what he faced throughout his five year period in Mumbai...

Entering the Chabad House was like encountering a lighthouse in the middle of a dark ocean. It did not take long to realize that its proprietors, Rabbi Gavriel and Rivkah Holtzberg, were extraordinary people and practitioners of kindness.

We keep going back to the small things. So many people have written about the big things—how they dedicated their lives to serving Jews, etc.—but Gabi and Rivki, as we knew them, were also people with unique thoughts, habits, idiosyncrasies, stories, personalities...

I remember the horrible images I saw on television. But I am fortunate that I also have the positive memories. I remember the smiles of the rabbi and his wife as their baby crawled all over the place...

This was one of my most memorable Shabbat experiences, not in any way because of the tragedy that subsequently occurred, but for zeal and commitment to the Jewish people that Rabbi Gabi and Rivki demonstrated.

Rabbi Holtzberg, when I spoke to you on Tuesday / You were so accommodating / "I would never want to be a stranded Jew in India" / Those were your words...

By the end of the night, we had all forgotten that we had arrived strangers and that we were in a strange land. This is all because of Rivky and Gabi...

They never preached, never suggested that I or anyone else practice Judaism in any particular way, and never judged. They simply wanted it understood that their home was always open, and I was always wanted and welcome...

For some reason or another, I had taken for granted the fact that a Chabad house existed in the middle of nowhere. I had taken for granted the fact that kosher wine was shipped to house in three gallon plastic jugs, all the way from Israel...

I have made it my own committment to do whatever I can to help rebuild Chabad House in Mumbai in memory of Rav Gaby and Rebezin Rivky Holtzberg,

Dr. Sherwin Isenberg describes his Shabbat at the Chabad House in Mumbai the week before the murders.

This song was written and recorded on the night we learned of the tragedy, in loving memory of the sacred souls who perished in the Mumbai terrorist attack in the Chabad House.

He told me simply and sharply that if the terrorists were to come, "be my guest, because I'm not leaving this place."