I'm a morning Facebook checker. I log in every morning before i get my day started. When i opened my Facebook app, i saw ten new posts. and i knew right away that something bad had happened. most of my friends and acquaintances live in the same time zone as me, so not much usually happens overnight. and then i saw the stories. and the pictures. white siddur pages, stained red. Tzitzis strings, also stained bright red. a man lying in a pool of blood, still wrapped in his tallis and tefillin. i felt what i always feel when i hear about these attacks. shock. horror. pity for the victims. compassion for their widows and orphans. and more recently as of late, anger. a slow burning inside. hate for someone who can so coldly take a life. and then sadness again, that there are four less people who will daven mincha this afternoon. four kedoshim, who were taken back while they were in the middle of morning prayer. four people whose last moments were as holy as possible. it's a small comfort for those of us who will probably think about it once or twice throughout the day, maybe another time during the week, and then move on. but how much of a comfort is that thought to the wives who sent their husbands off to shul, not knowing they would never see them again? to the 20-something children who are now fatherless?
that is the thought that i want to hold on to, so that i think of these four men throughout the whole day.
may their blood be avenged.