During the course of our lives Hashem presents us with many opportunities. We have a choice of saying “yes” or saying “no.” When we say “no” we should realize that our lives don’t simply continue along the same course, but rather, we regress and pay some price -- perhaps a very heavy price. So why would we say “no?” The simple answer to that question is fear, definitively, lack of faith. We look at the situation from our natural, earthly-plane vantage point, consider it too much of a risk, and decide to play it safe. This principle is true on both a personal and on a national level. Indeed, each of our lives is a microcosm of the nation, with all of its problems and sorrows, hopes and joys.

One such opportunity was presented to us on Friday, March 28, Erev Shabbat Pesach. After the horrific terror attacks on Pesach, there was yet another on Friday afternoon, when a young Arab woman blew herself up at a supermarket in a Jerusalem neighborhood. The Arabs on the Temple Mount began throwing rocks down on the worshippers at the Kotel. The chief of police ordered the police to break through the door to the Temple Mount and put down the riot.

It seems painfully obvious that Hashem was presenting us with a legitimate opportunity to re-establish the Jewish presence on Har HaBayit. Just as in 1967, however, there was too much fear of world opinion and not enough fear of Gd. We have been crying out to Him to end the cycle of terror. Could it be that He answered us, but we failed to recognize it?

In 1967, after the Arabs once again tried to wipe Israel off the face of the earth, not only were we saved, but we ended up with the heartland of Biblical Israel. For the first time in almost two millennia we were able to return to Jerusalem, to the Temple Mount. Rabbi Shlomo Goren said to General Moti Gur, “We have an opportunity. We have to destroy these mosques so we can re-build the Temple.” The answer was: “Rabbi, if you keep saying this, you’re going to jail.” Rather than being thankful for the open miracle our nation had been given, deciding members of the government mourned our “occupation” of “Arab land.”

What would have happened if we had made a different choice and seized that opportunity with joy and thanksgiving? By choosing the “safe” route instead, could we have missed one of the portals to the Redemption? How different would our lives be, and indeed, the whole world, if we had had the courage and the strength to say “yes?” Would Israel have then been able to enter into the fullness of its heritage, to be the vessel Hashem intended from the very Beginning?

Rather we mourned our fate as occupiers. We tried so hard to be the most benevolent occupiers in history, but we were still hated. We gave the local Arabs every advantage, every opportunity to better their standard of living. Yet they still hated us. And in 1973, on Yom Kippur, there was another war – one we almost lost. But we continued to try to get the Arabs to see how wonderful we were, hoping they would love us and want to live with us peacefully. What we got in return was intifada, terror, and more expressions of their hatred. They became the stings in our eyes and the thorns in our sides that the Torah warned us foreign inhabitants of the Land would be.

The worship of the god Molech was prevalent among the Canaanite inhabitants of Biblical Israel. As part of their worship ritual, the people offered their children into the fire of Molech -- for the greater good. When the Arabs of today send their children out to throw rocks, they face armed Israeli soldiers, who, while subduing the riots, are forced to defend themselves with the command “Aish!” (Fire!) The current Arab residents offer their children up to this fire, sacrificing their lives, in much the same way as their predecessors. All of this is done at the insistence of their leaders – for the greater good. After the Palestinian Authority came to power, they promoted a lavish celebration of a festival to Baal, another Caananite god, in order to assert the Palestinian claim of descendency from the ancient Canaanites. This heritage is further demonstrated by their grisly indifference to the value of their own children’s lives. Just as their forebears thousands of years before sacrificed their children to the “fire of Molech,” for the greater good, so too, the Palestinians of today follow this disturbing pattern.

Immediately following Pesach is Shabbat Shemini. This parsha relates the sacrifices performed by Aharon for the initiation of the Mishkan. What better time to come back into possession of the Temple Mount, to initiate the Third Temple Commonwealth? In that passage we read about the death of Avihu and Nadav. According to esoteric writings, their soul (singular) gave Pinhas the strength to defend Hashem’s Name in the rebellion of Zimri with Cozbi, the Midianite princess. Pinhas, we are told, returned in the spirit of Eliyahu Hanavi to further sanctify the Name of Hashem. This means the soul Avihu and Nadav is also linked to the one who will herald the Redemption.

What we fail to see in all of this, is that Hashem allows sorrows in order to push us to the place He wants us so that He can do a work in us. On the national level, He is using the Arabs as a tool to mold us in His image. And with each horrific event, we’re being pushed closer and closer to this end. Hashem is waiting for us to do something. The first thing we have to do is tshuvah as a nation, for not listening and for not accepting opportunities for blessing -- even the extraordinarily obvious ones. We cannot understand why the situation keeps getting worse or why the terror is steadily increasing. We cannot see that it is we ourselves who are prolonging this painful period by refusing these opportunities. We are being offered a blessing or a curse. But by saying “no,” we are turning away from Hashem’s blessing and actually choosing the curse. And that is a crucial mistake that comes with a very, very heavy price.

Hag sameach. Shabbat shalom.
Miriam