On the Sea of Galilee

On the Sea of Galilee
America Must Stand By Israel!

Monday, October 31, 2011

Chana and Penina - A Lesson in Sensitivity


Chana and Penina

A Lesson In Sensitivity

By


Robyn Cuspin


Chana and Penina were both wives of the same
man, a holy and righteous man named Elkanah.
Penina had many children and Chana had none.
When it was time to bring a sacrifice in the
Sanctuary, the whole family would journey to the
Sanctuary in Shilo.

My sister-in-law and I both became pregnant at
the same time. She was pregnant with her first,
and I was pregnant again after a devastating loss,
pregnant with what I hoped would be our third
child. We were not close, but we were connected
by the bonds of the family we shared.


At that time, Penina would ask Chana "Where are your children?" And
Chana would be heartbroken. She would cry and not eat her portion of
the sacrificial offerings. When Elkanah saw that Chana was crying, he
would comfort her, saying, "Why do you cry and why do you not eat? Why are you heartbroken?
Am I not as dear to you as ten children?"

Again, my baby died mid-term, and I went from pregnancy to surgery, to have the now-dead
contents of my uterus removed. My husband tried to comfort me. "Look at our beautiful family.
We have two lovely children. Isn't that enough?"

Yet, despite the special connection she shared with her husband, Chana was not comforted.
She went to the Sanctuary courtyard, and silently poured out her heart to G-d.

The day that would have been my due date was especially heartbreaking. I don't think it is possible
to process the full impact of a mid-pregnancy loss until one's due date. Until then, I was just
relieved not to be feeling so sick anymore. I was relieved to no longer require daily injections. I
was relieved to no longer worry about the constant threat of miscarriage.

Yet, when my due date arrived, the realization hit me that there would be no baby. My milk came
in nonetheless, despite the months that had passed since the loss. My heartbreak came at a time of
great celebration for the family. Our due dates were close. My sister-in-law had delivered a baby
girl, and suddenly every conversation revolved around her new daughter, the new grandchild and
newest addition to the family.
Eli, the high priest, observed Chana's prayer. He mistook Chana's silent sorrow for drunkenness,
and he rebuked her.

I was happy for her and yet, every mention of the baby tore into me, bringing fresh waves of grief
until I felt like I was drowning.

My grief was fresh. It was raw. It was part of me. It was also all that
remained of the soul that had entwined with mine for several months, not
long enough to have been born, but certainly long enough to be mourned.

I explained to the family that although I was happy for my sister-in-law, my grief was too fresh and
I could not participate in the family celebrations.

Yet I was told that my loss was months ago, and I should not make such a big deal about the
miscarriage.


Chana answered him "No, my Lord, I am a woman of aggrieved spirit. I have drunk no wine. I
have poured out my soul before my Creator."

I consulted with a rabbi whose opinion I valued. I confessed my heartbreak and the "indulgent
nature" that my grief was viewed as by the larger family. "What shall I do?" I beseeched him.
"You have a right to mourn," he told me. "Right now, you and your sister-in-law are like Chana
and Penina. It is too close to your own loss to expect you to be able to rejoice with her now."

Eli answered "Go to Peace. The God
of Israel will grant the request you made of Him." Chana
 was comforted, and she returned to her family.

While my husband and children attended yet another round of family celebrations I could no
longer face, I remained behind, alone in my hotel room. I sought refuge in my prayer book.

"Oh G-d" I prayed. "It was Your will that women become mothers. It was Your Will that Jewish
 families be large and vibrant, continually growing from one generation to the next. How then am I
to understand why some women, like Chana, are denied the ability to have children at all, while
others, like myself, are prevented from being able to continue to bring life? How do I understand
why some souls enter the womb, but not the world? How do I face these trials without becoming
bitter or feeling abandoned by You?"

My tears stained the pages of my prayer book. Like Chana before me, I poured out my soul to
G-d.

Yet I hesitated to pray for another child. Doctors had helped me twice to become pregnant, yet they
could not sustain those lives that had taken root. I prayed instead that G-d direct
me, and show me what to strive for.

Across town, my husband sat with his family, while I sat alone with G-d
and my grief. I could not part with my grief, and I was not permitted to
make my grief a part of the family's story.

We read the story of Chana and Penina on Rosh Hashanah, when we pray for a good, sweet year.

We pray for abundant blessings. Yet I believe there is a lesson in their story, cautioning us that
with blessings come responsibility. We are not meant to flaunt them, and inadvertently cause
heartbreak and pain to others.

This message is beautifully demonstrated in the actions of a simple woman I once knew. She
worked as a secretary in a school where there was a teacher on staff who had been married many
years, but had no children. This secretary chose not to display any pictures of her children at work.
"I can see my children at home whenever I want," she once explained to me. "Why should I display
their pictures at work knowing that it might bring grief to someone else?" Her quiet self-restraint
demonstrated how deeply she had internalized the story of Chana and Penina.

Is it possible to truly never cause pain to someone else, especially to those we are close to, like
members of our own families? Perhaps not. Yet if we recognize that sometimes our bounty can
bring pain to another, we can strive for a higher way of living – for the ability to have and yet not
hurt other people with what we have. Surely, like that secretary, we must try to make room for the
hidden pain of others.

Robyn Cuspin is a therapist living in Israel.

Wednesday, October 12, 2011

Christian Girls Vulnerable to Rape, Forced Conversion and Forced Marriage in Pakistan

Christian Girls Vulnerable to Rape, Forced Conversion and Forced Marriage in Pakistan    

Published by Morpheus on 2011/10/12  
Rifkha (name changed for security reasons) works at a Muslim farm in the village of Muphat Pura, in Kasur district of Pakistan. On September 16 at 5 pm, Rifkha was working alone on the farm when three relatives of her Muslim employer came and repeatedly raped her.


Warned not to report the rape to anyone, Rifkha told us, “I am very sad about what happened to me. If I report this case, it will be difficult for me and my family to live in the area. The Muslims have threatened to kill me and my brothers (who also work for the same employer) if I report the case to the police. We are Christians and we are very poor that is why we are targeted by the Muslims.”


Unfortunately, Rifkah’s experience is not an isolated one. Many Christian girls are raped at the hands of Muslims in Pakistan. Rape has been used as a weapon of persecution against Christian girls in Pakistan, a country where Christians are treated as third-class citizens. In the Muslim majority country, Christian girls are particularly vulnerable to these types of crimes because Muslim authorities are reluctant to protect them when their rights are violated by Muslims. According to Compass Direct News, a Christian mother of five said that she was raped by two Pakistani Muslims on September 15th. In January, Muhammad Aftab was arrested after raping six Christian girls at different times.


The president of the Pakistan Christian Congress, Dr. Nazir Bhatti, told us, “The incidents of rape and enforced conversion of Christian women to Islam is rising every year. 99.9% of rape cases go unreported in Pakistan… If a Muslim man rapes a Christian girl, then he easily forces her to convert to Islam, marries her and covers up his heinous crime of rape under Islamic law. Some cases of rapes of Christian women are reported, but the majority of such rapes are never reported.”


Unfortunately, Rifkha’s story is not even unique to Pakistan, but is rampant in much of the Islamic World. In our November newsletter, we are focusing on Christian women like Rifkha who, in many parts of the world, are vulnerable, easy targets for abduction, rape, forced marriage, forced conversion, and even sexual slavery. Make sure you sign up in the next week to get ensure you get your copy. This is an issue that is largely overlooked and urgently needs the Church’s attention.


Source: persecution.org

Monday, October 3, 2011

This Breaks My Heart! Father Bring Justice!

Monday, September 26, 2011

Only a Rock

As a whole, we humans are easily desensitized. We log onto the internet or turn on the TV and daily, if not hourly, we are given a menu of tragic stories to choose from. Horrific images keep our attention. That is, until the next story comes along. Or we hear the same story for so long, the seriousness of the story is lost on us. Example: Arabs throwing rocks. No big deal, right?

How often have we heard or seen on the news that Arabs are throwing rocks? I did a word search on the web. “Arabs throw rocks” brought up 11,000,000 results. Arabs in Israel have been throwing a lot of rocks for a lot of years. Which unfortunately gives us, the outside world, a ho-hum attitude whenever we hear of such an event. Arabs throw rocks; crickets chirp around the world. A Kardashian breaks a fingernail; the world is inundated with coverage of the details.

To undo the desensitization, imagine these scenerios with me. God forbid you ever really experience anything like them.

You are a woman dressed up in your finery. You buckle your toddler in her car seat. You get behind the wheel and breath a little sigh of relief. You’re on time. You’ll get to your friend’s wedding with time to spare. That is until you hear a crash. You slam on the breaks. Your heart stops. You can’t turn fast enough to check on your baby girl. And your worst fear has just been realized. Blood covers your baby’s face. Broken glass covers the rest of her. The rock was thrown hard enough. Fast enough. Accurately enough, to hit your baby in the face. You and your baby experience first-hand what a rock can do. The rest of the world will think it was only a rock. You know the rock was intended to be a deadly weapon.

Or G-d forbid, imagine this. You are a young father. While your wife works her shift as a nurse, you share in the wonderful duties of taking care of your one-year old son. Family members describe you as a "quite and special man." That’s easy to see when you are with your son. You gently buckle him in his car seat. Perhaps you even say, “We’re about to see Mommy,” as you start on your way to pick her up. It happened so fast, you probably didn’t see it coming. The rock crashes through the front windshield and hits you in the head. Hopefully, your death happened instantly so you wouldn't have time to think, even for a split second, what was going to happen to your son as the car flipped. He would die too. The first “responders” to arrive on the scene stole your gun and your wallet. Animals arriving upon the carnage they just created. With rocks. The rest of the world will think, it was only a rock. It was a deadly weapon.

May God bring a complete recovery from Heaven for Dorit Tehallel bat Shlomit.


May God bring comfort to the family and avenge the blood of Asher Palmer and young Yehonatan.