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We are buried today

Written in D. Adar 2, 1978, After the attack on the coastal road And Dina's abortion

(D. Adar II is the day of the death of Rabbi Eli and Dina 25 years later when they were murdered in their house by terrorists)




Or to H. Adar II 5768


Sorrow in snuff. The nation cries, whines and howls.


Those who enter Adar rejoice. Joy of burials and eulogies. Small children, charred corpses. A few tears. How much pain. Eyes source of tears. The eyes of the nation are flowing, flowing and the heart is broken within us. Some costumes will remain in the closet, some smiles, hugs will remain in memory. How much pain. And my heart ached. And the heart of the people explodes. Crying and crying. Shamelessly. No relaxation.


Inish owes my perfume. In the perfumes of fire and blood and shouts and murders and weeping. Crying and crying. Some lives have come to an end. Some loves. A man's love for his wife and a mother and father to their son. Decay. Turn off. Get up. Crying and crying non-stop, without condolences. And the pain is deep, penetrating, and the crying rises to the heart of heaven. And the sorrow to no end.


Until and not at all. Suddenly, out of the bitterest crying, the more acute sorrow - suddenly a dot sparkles. A tiny dot, the beginning of which cannot be defined at all. No words. No expression. Just an eternity. tenure. There are.


In the midst of a storm of emotions, on the verge of despair, the heart is suddenly filled with supreme joy - without explanation. feel. feeling. The essence of permanence - the depth of permanence within the whole plot.


With the eternal eternity that exists in peace, quiet, security, in the depths of all that passes. And the heart is filled to overflowing. We are blessed with what is good for our share, how pleasant is our destiny, how beautiful is our inheritance. Bless Israel with a savior in God. Endless waves of happiness wash over us. We dip a complete immersion in the supreme happiness of Mikveh Yisrael H. - without buffering, without firing, relishing in Noam Hashem. Above the bill, above the measure.


And then these moments of happiness pass, for which all life firefighters are, and we face again the horror of the nightmare. Parents lament over the killing of their child, the sound of crying and howling - and the mind strives to find out, to naive the visions, to explain the depth of being, in words that are far removed from it. Discover the source of happiness in thinking content that will never go beyond the world of darkness.


There is no choice, if the state of transcendence was perpetual, and if it were, it would not be necessary. And what is it that God has kindly inflated our souls into the darkness of this house of matter to enlighten us and to us.


And look back. What exactly is the source of grief? Why do we cry so much that the pain is unbearable? And that our children and parents are the ones who were murdered in this Amalekite inferno? Are they children of our relatives or neighbors?


One name from the Fallen, we did not hear, we did not know. And the eyes are red, stinging with tears. And the pain is unbearable. Yes our children are buried today. Our parents and loved ones, our brothers and sisters are dying and recovering - some to death and some to life.


And how we will not shout, how we will not raise our voices in astonishment and weeping when our sweethearts, our flowers, resent, are killed in the blood of their days.


No. It was not our children who were burned, but us - our son was set on fire, our flesh and blood were burned. We are buried today. We writhe in the agony of our wounds, recovering and dying. Our imaginary rivers and tears merge and flow, flowing and flooding all the soil of our land.


Who like your people Israel is one gentile in the land. One real gentile. One corpse, one soul. Not rhetoric and preaching. A real one. To regret the sorrow of the people, because I am the people and the people I, and the torments of Israel are real torments, torments of the flesh and soul.


And out of this comes the light. Precisely out of the magnitude of the anguish. The depths of darkness, the eternal being of the rule is revealed, the eternity of Israel will not lie and will not be comforted because no man is to be comforted.


It is suddenly revealed, not in words of logic, but in a real sense, that there is no death and doom. Doom cannot be tolerated. One loss of life, one loss of love, but everything is alive and flowing - a flood of sublime divine life builds us, strengthens, stores us - and I have poured pure water on you.


We go and purify ourselves, purifying ourselves from joy and from torment - the good grace of God which brings us good, for his name's sake - in love.


No detail has been edited, other than by the all-Israeli personality. And the whole of Israel is growing. Gathered and redeemed, in the course of aliyah from force to force without any retreat. Without hesitation. One personality, one person blessed and tormented. And it becomes increasingly clear from the misery that refines it. Prepare it for a more sublime light. More noble. One personality who does not know death and does not take a nap, but is fixed in discipline to the permanent, upright, divine object - sacred to the world that exists.


May Adar - as a permanent personal Damari to Deri Deri. And he valued Ador-Dkaimi to Deri Deri. The institutionalization of the resurrection, which reveals the futility of the dead, the denial of the blindness of death - only because of a source of joy - multiplies with joy. Not the joy of partial harmony in the components of being, but the emergence of life from a source of life to resurrect all the dead. Hospital doctor. Allows forbidden. Maintains his faith in the dust of the earth.


All the shortcomings of life are filled, and the joy multiplies endlessly.


And in the rough overview, from beginning to end, all the torments turn out to be wonderful divine counsel, for the intensification of life without limit, without annuity.


And the duty of the day is determined to perfume - the pleasures of the soul to the highest degree, original - to the point of meeting and identity between the melodies of Mary Dachia - in the skies of purity belonging to the highest freedom, the source of blessing from the tree, the element of separation and inaction.


Eli Horowitz






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