Welcome, Moishele, to the land of orphans, may heaven have mercy.

Here in Israel, you won't be alone, growing up with murdered parents.

You, Moishe, merited to have thousands of mommies and tatties through your extended Chabad family, G‑d bless them and their holy work.

But here in Israel, without the parents who gave birth to you and fed you and rocked you and sang to you and prayed with you, you join the ranks of countless children whose lives have been shattered by terrorism. Their loved ones have been murdered on the soil of the Holy Land. Your saintly parents, may G‑d avenge their blood, have now been laid to rest in this blood soaked soil, till the Resurrection of the Dead, may it come immediately.

Shattered lives are not new to the Jewish people. Not throughout history, and not in our timesYour parents left Israel to reach out to Jews in the remote, now infamous city of Mumbai, India.

When we beg G‑d in our daily prayers to gather the Jews from the four corners of the earth, we dare not dream of the return of an orphan baby with his righteous Indian nanny to his mother's birthplace. Nor do we imagine parents sending their terminally ill child to Israel while they chose, with unthinkable self sacrifice, to stay in India, in order to ignite Jewish souls.

The citizens of Israel have seen terror and trauma beyond words. Binyamin and Talia Kahane's children also lost their parents in front of their eyes, shot cold while traveling in their van some eight years ago. Pregnant women have been killed, robbing the Jewish people of unborn citizens, let alone mothers of children, wives of husbands. Sons and daughters, brothers and sisters, even grandparents have been murdered in Israel during the years of the second Intifada. Shattered lives are not new to the Jewish people. Not throughout history, and not in our times.

Abruptly and viciously terminated are the thousands of lives of Israelis (and many visitors)—those who served in the army, border policemen, storekeepers, pizza eaters, mall shoppers, coffee drinkers, Seder observers, travelers. We are all travelers, attempting to locate the road signs of our lives' journeys, and to follow them.

Your parents, little Moishele, knew why they were here and where they were going. Emissaries of the Lubavitcher Rebbe, loyal servants of the Almighty G‑d, they recognized their mission in life, and together, in too few inhumanely short years, accomplished what most of us don't in a 120 year lifetime.

We don't know why; we can't understand and certainly we cry. But we trust in G‑d's plan. Senseless, to our apprehension, yes; but as Jews, we are part of a collective whole that has been sustained against all odds through the ages. We, the survivors, keep marching forward.

In building there is comfort. We will keep building. Terror victim families in Israel have been rebuilt. The Chabad House in Mumbai will G‑d willing be rebuilt. Our broken hearts will begin to be rebuilt as we fill them with acts of kindness, taking our cues from the incredible love which your selfless parents showed the world.

We know you can't sleep without your Ima. Every orphaned child needs his mommy back...G‑d, the Healer of broken hearts, the supporter of the fallen, will provide comfort. But that is not enough. Moshe, we know you can't sleep without your Ima. Every orphaned child needs his mommy back. Every devastated mommy needs her child alive again. We need Moshiach. We need an end to senseless hatred and acts of violence. We need the strength of Gavriel, and the pleasantness of Noach; the holiness of Rivka; the innocence of your brother Mendy of blessed memory. We need all the martyred here with us, in our days, with the righteous men and women of the ages, with the Forefathers and Foremothers of the Jewish people, with Moses our Teacher, who, like little Moishele, was also saved by the selfless outstretched arm of a non Jew.

Moishe, and all orphans of Israel, we are with you. We have committed to do our part to spread light in the world, following the Rebbe's leadership, emulating his emissaries the world over, who put aside their own needs, like Abraham our Forefather, like your mother and your father.

Please G‑d, we beseech You, collect our acts of goodness and kindness, gather our mitzvot, use our tears to bring new fruit to the earth. Redeem us, our Father in Heaven, from this exile. Lead us to the Third and eternal Holy Temple with our righteous redeemer, Now!