A few weeks ago, Shavei Shomron resident Rabbi Meir Chai was cold-bloodedly murdered by terrorists as he was driving his car near his home.

His teenage son spoke at the funeral—words that bespoke super-human courage and faith.

After reading this brave boy's words, I couldn't help but wonder: how could such a young boy demonstrate this inner fortitude in a moment of so much anguish?

One of the most dramatic scenes in our nation's history unfolded as Moses descended Mt. Sinai holding the tablets containing the Ten Commandments. As he witnesses his people worshipping the Golden Calf, he throws down the tablets, shattering to pieces the priceless covenantal agreement between the Jewish people and their G‑d.

The commentaries offer various reasons as to why Moses broke the tablets. One of the explanations given is that Moses was attempting to spare the nation of G‑d's wrath, by destroying the binding contract that contained the holy pact that His nation flagrantly breached.

Rashi (on Exodus 34:1) explains:

This can be compared to a king who went abroad and left his betrothed with the maidservants. Because of the immoral behavior of the maidservants, she acquired a bad reputation. Her "bridesman" [the person appointed to defend the bride should any problems arise] arose and tore up her marriage contract. He said, "If the king decides to kill her, I will say to him, 'She is not yet your wife.'"

But in breaking the tablets, Moses was also perhaps trying to engrave on his people's psyche an essential message that would remain with them for all eternity.

Moses was telling them that due to their grave sin their "contractual agreement" with G‑d had been violated and hence shattered. G‑d was now effectively freed from any commitment to them.

Yet Moses wanted them to see and understand that though the tablets had been shattered, G‑d will not desert them. Even without any "contract," they will remain His chosen people. G‑d's connection to the Jewish people is beyond contractual agreements, beyond circumstances and bad choices, and even beyond logic itself.

It is an essential unbreakable bond of love, for all times and places.

And perhaps in doing so, Moses was beseeching the Jewish people to reciprocate in kind, by rededicating themselves to G‑d for all times as His chosen people—even when it becomes increasingly difficult to do so. Even in circumstances when it is not rationally beneficial...

Even if it seems that He isn't keeping His promises to us… Even if it entails a more exacting code of moral behavior… Even if the nations of the world hate us for it… And even if it means reaching deep within our souls to access a tiny ember of a flickering flame of faith.

Our people understood the lesson of Moses' dramatic act. It became etched into the very fabric of our being. It is a message that has helped us to respond to G‑d in kind, even during the most trying times.

Rabbi Meir Chai was described as a "special man who never said a bad word about his fellows, only good."

"Father!" his sixteen-year-old son Eliyahu cried out emotionally at the funeral, "Father in heaven! What would we do without faith in You?!"

Chai's firstborn continued: "If we want to commemorate my father, we must increase our Torah study.

"Abba (father) wanted Torah. Abba wanted greater observance of mitzvot.

"Abba would not want that we should go out and take revenge. That would be the natural solution. But that's not our solution.

"We are Jews. We are holy. We are G‑d's chosen people."