Friday, October 24

Remember the Limbo stick?  As children, we played the game, in which you have to pass under a horizontal stick by bending backwards without falling. The stick gets lowered more and more, making it more challenging with every round.  As a game, Limbo originated in Trinidad.  As a word, Limbo originated in Latin from limbus which means “edge, boundary” and which refers to the edge of Hell.

As we wait for the return of the bodies of hostages no longer living, the Jewish community seems to be playing a game of Limbo, while the families of those missing hostages must feel on the edge of Hell. It’s the ache of not knowing, the unbearable pause between life and death, chaos and closure.

Do you know that there is no Hebrew word for (psychological) closure?  There is only chesed shel emet – true lovingkindness. This refers to a kindness done for the dead, the final selfless mitzvot we perform for someone who has passed. But how can we offer kindness when there is no body? When Hamas still holds bones in its dust? It’s like sitting shiva without chairs, saying Kaddish without names.  We dream of a funeral and a grave, because that, at least, is something real, an answer, a resolution. 

Being in Limbo is the cruelest exile. Even in Torah, we see that Limbo is a kind of punishment. Joseph is forgotten in prison.  Moshe gazes at the Promised Land but is unable to enter. The Jewish People know this ache, waiting for redemption that feels overly delayed.

The world doesn’t seem to understand that even the dead deserve redemption. And yet, we are a people who refuse to stop waiting, who light candles in darkness and call every missing name a sacred spark that must return. The families wait for a moment of holiness, to bring their children home, even in death. To stop living between phone calls, prayers, and nightmares. We want our hostages home. Period. Enough with Limbo. Frankly, our backs are sore and our souls ache from balancing on the edge.

Am Yisrael Chai!