A Small Light Dispels Much Darkness: A JLI Educator's Response to the Terror Attacks in Mumbai

by Shira Heller, JLI educator at Boston University

In my son's school, there is a bulletin board with photos of the first graders. The photos display cute, smiling little children and are pasted on to yellow papers cut in the shape of a flame. Across the top of the bulletin board it says, "A small light dispels a lot of darkness." I smile whenever I see that bulletin board, thinking of how much light those children bring to the lives of their parents, grandparents, teachers, and friends. I smile to think of how these children are first learning the light of Torah and Judaism, being instilled with a life-long flame of love for Hashem, the Torah, the Jewish people.

And, though my elementary school days are long over, I smile to think of myself also as a "small light," bringing a little light of Torah to the Boston University community. Though I do not work with first-graders, I also strive to light little flames in the hearts of the college students who travel to Boston for a few years on their life's journeys. King Solomon says in the book of Proverbs (6:23), "Ki Ner mitzvah v' Torah or", "for a mitzvah is a candle, and the Torah is a light". Just as a candle can freely light a thousand others without diminishing itself, so too: I hope and pray -- that through teaching and mitzvot I can light a thousand other candles, who can light ten thousand more. (Not to mention my three little children, wonderful small lights that they are.)

In the broader view, though, my corner of the world already has so many bright lights. In Boston, we are blessed with an abundance of rabbis, Torah scholars, and ba'alei batim who care deeply about Torah and mitzvot. On every Shabbat, hundreds of tables are full, and one can choose between any number of minyanim. One can find shiurim on several levels and topics any night of the week. I am, thank God, one of many voices for Torah here.

Not so in Mumbai. Rabbi and Rebbetzin Holtzberg, like so many other Chabad shluchim, ventured out, away from family, Jewish schools, kosher restaurants, to bring the light of Torah to so many who needed it so much. Their work was so important. Their loss leaves a terrible void. I have never traveled to India myself, but I can only imagine the relief it would have been to find myself on the Holtzbergs' doorstep: a Jewish home in the wilderness.

I learn with a BU student, Shaaroni, who spent a year in India. She has always spoken of the Holtzbergs so fondly. We've been talking a lot in the last few days. I suggested she write a bit about the Holtzbergs as a way of beginning to cope with their deaths. This is part of what she had to say:

"From Rivki and Rav Gavi, I gained a desire to learn more, to do more. During my time living in Mumbai, they did not teach me all the laws of Shabbos, but they did teach me the love of Shabbos. They were really influential in my moving towards a more observant life, not because they pushed me, but because they made Shabbos so beautiful in my mind that I wanted that every week. I still cannot believe I won't be spending Pesach with them this year as we had planned..."

The Holtzbergs' light was extinguished before its time, and the ensuing darkness is frightening and disorienting. How can we bring meaning out of this devastating tragedy? Chabad has asked that Jewish women light a Shabbat candle to honor the memory of Rivki Holtzberg. I think that's a great idea, and recommend it whole-heartedly. I would add that we should strive to BE a light. The best way we can honor the memory of the Holtzbergs is to help to continue their holy work. Perhaps not all of us can move to some remote and untouched place in the world to start lighting candles. But we all move in many circles, travel to many places and meet many people. Let us help bring the light of Torah and mitzvot to the darkened corners, wherever we may find them. "Ki Ner mitzvah v' Torah or."