Wednesday's news had hit me hard.
Two more of our dear brothers were taken from us and one more is severely wounded as a result of a deadly stabbing attack near the Jaffa Gate in Jerusalem.
Ofer Ben Ari, a 46-year-old husband and father of two daughters, and Rabbi Reuven Biermacher, a 45-year-old husband, father of seven, and a devoted teacher at Aish Hatorah, have been torn from their families and loved ones by yet another act of Palestinian terror.
The wound in each one of our hearts is still raw and bleeding. Each time we hear of another innocent victim claimed by this wave of terror, the unhealed scars of previous attacks are painfully reopened. The Henkin couple, the Litman family, Ezra Schwartz, the toddler who lost his leg in a vehicular attack, and the images and stories of 24 precious lives ended and hundreds more wounded and maimed flood our consciousness, reigniting feelings of deep grief and anguish.
Is there hope? When will the situation improve?
As these thoughts rush through my mind, I remember the wedding I attended on Wednesday, the same day as this gruesome attack.
Reflecting on the unique wedding of Chedva and Shmuel, I am comforted.
The wedding was not typical in any way. Our dear friend Chedva, 61, was getting married for the first time to Shmuel, 72. Chedva is a frequent Shabbat guest at our home in Talpiyot, and she is one of the most gracious people I know. Each time she comes, she raves about how delicious the food is and how delightful the company. Her praise and appreciation are genuine and heartwarming.
And this week, the miracle of her marriage took place. Chedva twirled in her exquisite white and silver gown and proudly displayed her sparkling silver shoes.
In her strongly accented Hebrew, Chedva was calling out to the guests, "Kulam le'echol- everyone, please eat!"
She carried her book of Psalms with her and showered blessings upon all of the friends and family who came to share in her simcha.
"I bless each one of you to find your zivug, your true match. Everyone should get married, Shmuel says!" she gushed to the large group of older singles surrounding her.
Shmuel sported a bow tie and exuberated youthful joy and excitement. His warm smile and kind hearted nature reminded me of Chedva.
I offered to bring Chedva a drink or some food, but she told me that she was too hyper to eat. The thought of my composed older friend being hyper made me smile.
How different this wedding was from my own and the others I frequently attend.
This bride and groom were decades older, certainly wiser, and yet the pure joy and excitement was timeless.
It struck me that Chedva and Shmuel had each been living fragmented lives until their reunion. For 61 years Chedva was single and searching, hoping and wishing.
Shmuel, too, went through his own journey, until he finally found the other half of his soul.
But finally, there they were at Mt. Scopus, overlooking the hills of Jerusalem and celebrating the seemingly impossible.
It hadn't been easy for Chedva. I remember her working overtime, cleaning homes and cooking for the elderly, and I imagine that there were times that marriage seemed like a distant dream for her.
And yet it happened, and I was blessed to witness this awesome celebration.
The joy of this older couple uniting at a festive Jewish wedding touched my heart, infusing me with much needed optimism.
There is hope. Miracles do happen.
G‑d can piece together this fragmented, painful reality called Exile. And we, too, can do our part to help piece things together, through continued acts of kindness and Jewish unity.
Just as G‑d brought Chedva and Shmuel together after all these years of loneliness, He can certainly reunite with us in a manner that we will feel His open love and affection, with peace and harmony in our land.
Even when it seems so elusive, the miracle of salvation is around the bend. Chedva and Shmuel's wedding is living proof.
We will continue to anticipate and hope, and through this, may we merit the Redemption speedily!
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