A Moment of Courage: Strength, Legacy, and Eternal Connection

From the beginning of this war, every week, Rena and her husband Amichai continue their journey across the country to embrace and comfort bereaved families. Bereavement spares no one. They meet families that are rich and poor, small and large. They visit sprawling homes in villages or moshavim, and at the same time climb to the fifth floor of a tiny apartment. In this challenging journey, they have learned many powerful lessons that Rena shares in this series.

We came to embrace a bereaved family about a month after their son was killed.
We found a house that was alive, awake, and vibrant. Babies in strollers, little children running around, young couples. Everyone coming and going.
Despite the fallen soldier, the house was lively and full of life.
We found a family.

The bereaved mother approached us holding a tiny baby.
“This is my grandson,” she said. “From the son who was killed, a grandson remains — this is a comfort. There is continuity.”
We gazed at the small infant — a tiny creature, about a month old, born into a complex world. A world without a father.
A father who was killed in the war for the land and the people.

As we followed the baby’s gaze, we said to the proud grandmother that she had now become a true human being. She, of course, did not understand what we meant.
We explained: even animals have offspring — a son or daughter — but a grandchild belongs only to human beings.
Animals are disconnected from the third generation; only humans are privileged with it.

There is a special word that encapsulates three generations:
The word אבן (“even” — stone) symbolizes strength, power, and eternal life.
In the Hebrew language, the word is made up of the beginnings of the words father (אב, av), son (בן, ben), and grandson (נכד, neched).
This exists only in Hebrew — within the inanimate object hides generations of life.

The stone also gives us the strength to continue — to move forward despite hardship, the great void, and the loss.
It represents stability — the thing that usually does not change.

Indeed, one of the earliest figures connected to the stone is Jacob our father (Yaakov Avinu).
Jacob embarks on a long journey, one that changes him and his future.
When he leaves his home and flees from his brother Esau, night falls.
Jacob, the poor wanderer without a tent or mattress, is forced to take stones from the place to sleep.
The stones become his pillow.
When he falls asleep, he dreams a dream in which angels ascend and descend a great ladder.
This is the essence of our lives — the ascents and descents. We are in constant motion — sometimes rising, sometimes sinking.

Jacob sees both the personal-human story and the Jewish story.
Each of us has journeys in life.
There are nights when we must sleep upon stones.
There are ascents and descents.
But we have the strength of the stone beneath us.

At the end of his life, Jacob is called in the Bible “the stone of Israel“ (אבן ישראל) — the strength of Israel.

The stone continues its journey and becomes the written Torah given at Mount Sinai to the chosen people:

“And I will give you the stone tablets, and the Torah, and the commandment which I have written, to teach them.”
(Shemot / Exodus)

The beginning of the Torah is in the covenant between man and God, a covenant engraved on a stone tablet.

The stone continues to accompany man even after his death.
There is an ancient Jewish custom: when visiting a grave and a tombstone, one places a stone upon it.
Not a flower, not a leaf — only a stone.
The same stone that was present throughout the life of the “stone,” is placed there after death.

Rena Ariel is a Jewish educator, leader, and role model for many in Israel and around the world. She is the mother of Hallel Yaffa Ariel, whose tragic loss to terrorism has further inspired Rena to promote initiatives that emphasize unity, faith, and the sanctity of life in the Land of Israel. Rena can be reached for lectures or visits to Kerem Hallel at yekev.arielbyehuda@gmail.com