Eulogy for David Schwartz, z”l, who fell in Gaza, son of Dr. Sarah Schwartz, Schechter Bible Teacher

The Schechter Institute of Jewish Studies mourns the falling of Sgt. Major David Schwartz z”l, son of our colleague, Dr. Sarah Schwartz, head of Schechter’s Bible Program.

To commemorate 30 days (shloshim) of his falling in Gaza, we publish here a translation of her words given during David’s funeral.

יז ונקונן אֶת-הַקִּינָה הַזֹּאת עַל-דוד וְעַל-יקיר רעהו  יח וַיֹּאמֶר לְלַמֵּד בְּנֵי-יְהוּדָה קָשֶׁת הִנֵּה כְתוּבָה עַל-סֵפֶר הַיָּשָׁר  יט הַצְּבִי יִשְׂרָאֵל עַל-בָּמוֹתֶיךָ חָלָל אֵיךְ נָפְלוּ גִבּוֹרִים כ אַל-תַּגִּידוּ בְעזה אַל-תְּבַשְּׂרוּ בְּחוּצֹת רפיח פֶּן-תִּשְׂמַחְנָה בְּנוֹת פְּלִשְׁתִּים פֶּן-תַּעֲלֹזְנָה בְּנוֹת הָעֲרֵלִים כא עזה ובנותיה אַל-טַל וְאַל-מָטָר עֲלֵיכֶם וּשְׂדֵי תְרוּמֹת כִּי שָׁם נִגְעַל מָגֵן גִּבּוֹרִים מָגֵן דוד בְּלִי מָשִׁיחַ בַּשָּׁמֶן  כב מִדַּם חֲלָלִים מֵחֵלֶב גִּבּוֹרִים קֶשֶׁת דוד לֹא נָשׂוֹג אָחוֹר וְחֶרֶב יקיר לֹא תָשׁוּב רֵיקָם כג דוד ויקיר הַנֶּאֱהָבִים וְהַנְּעִימִם בְּחַיֵּיהֶם וּבְמוֹתָם לֹא נִפְרָדוּ מִנְּשָׁרִים קַלּוּ מֵאֲרָיוֹת גָּבֵרוּ  כד בְּנוֹת יִשְׂרָאֵל אֶל-דוד בְּכֶינָה כה אֵיךְ נָפְלוּ גִבֹּרִים בְּתוֹךְ הַמִּלְחָמָה דוד עַל-בָּמוֹתֶיךָ חָלָל  כו צַר-לִי עָלֶיךָ בני אהובי דוד נָעַמְתָּ לִּי מְאֹד נִפְלְאַתָה

אַהֲבָתְךָ לִי מכל האהבה שבעולם  כז אֵיךְ נָפְלוּ גִבּוֹרִים וַיֹּאבְדוּ כְּלֵי מִלְחָמָה (מבוסס על שמ״ב א, יז-כז)

17: We lament this lamentation over David and Yakir, his companion.
18: And he said to teach  the Sons of Judah [The Song of the] Bow. It is recorded in the Book of Yashar.
19: Your splendor, O Israel, lies slain upon your high places, How the mighty have fallen!
20: Tell it not in Gaza, proclaim it not in the streets of Rafah, lest the daughters of the Philistines rejoice, lest the daughters of the uncircumcised exult.
20: Gaza and her daughters, let no dew and no rain be upon you, nor bounteous fields, for there the shield of the mighty was defiled, the shield of David, anointed with oil no more.
22:From the blood of the slain, from the fat of the mighty, the bow of David never turn back, nor did the sword of Yakir return empty.
23: David and Yakir, beloved and cherished, never parted in life or in death. They were swifter than eagles, stronger than lions;
24: O daughters of Israel, weep over David.
25: How the mighty have fallen in the battle! David is slain on your heights.
26: I grieve for you, my beloved son David. You were most dear to me, your love was most wonderful to me, more than all the love in the world.
27: How the mighty have fallen, and the weapons of war perished.

(Based on II Samuel 17-27)

David Schwartz, z”l, son of Dr. Sarah Schwartz

My David. I do not know how to fully describe your special character in just a few words. But you were always able to speak succinctly, and in your honor, I will attempt the same, during this terrible hour of parting. I will not speak in the past tense, but rather in present tense, because even now I know that you still live within me, forever.

You have a unique character that combines many different attributes, which appear contradictory, yet are somehow joined together in you in complete harmony: wisdom and humility, self-confidence and modesty. Practicality and spirituality, heroism and tenderness. A sense of humor, joy and seriousness; quiet, strong and stable leadership; nobility. We could always rely on you. Consult with you. Your judgement is balanced and healthy. And as we learn from the Mishna in Avot (2:9): “A good heart” above all. David, you always seek that which is good, to do good, to benefit others with your goodness. You never said “no” to me. That word was never even in your lexicon. Every single person who met you could see that you were a whole and pure person, fell in love with you, and in turn, was rewarded with true friendship.

It was in the name of this friendship and comradery that you went to war. In the name of this friendship and mutual responsibility for the Jewish people, defending their very existence, and, of course, out of loyalty to your brothers in arms. We spoke about this in our final conversation, last Tuesday. You called just before going back into Gaza, and we spoke for a few minutes. We spoke about the war and how happy you were to be with your friends, with your commanders. I promised I would send you part of a poem by Alterman about comradery. I promised, but unfortunately, I did not keep my promise. I did not find the piece in time, and then you entered Gaza and I had no communication with you. But you also made a promise you did not keep. You told me, “Ima, don’t worry. I am fine. Trust me, I will be back in a few weeks.” You were filled with confidence, invincible. And I trusted you. Completely. Like I always did. I worried, in my heart, I did not sleep at night, but I did not believe, even for one moment, that you would not return to us. That was not something I even considered. Scared as I was of the knock at the door, the knock last night caught me by surprise.

״נוראה אהבת אבות,
עקובה אהבת אישה,
אך רעות איך טוותה עבות?
מה חושיה ואי שרשה״?

“Awesome is the love of fathers,
entangled is the love of a woman;
but comradery, how does it weave such bonds?
What is its sense and where is its root?”

Asks Alterman (in his poem “The Stranger Remembers his Friends”)

And his answer is that comradery is the most basic and essential element of the Jewish people, which endures even in the face of crumbling and calamity. Friendship is the foundation that carries us through troubled times. In its merit, the nation will rise from the ashes. In merit of the friendship which wove bonds between David and Yakir and Yanai and Elnadav and Ron. In merit of the comradery of the people of this land, who despite their diverse opinions are willing to carry the great task of the new Return to Zion on their shoulders, together, ‘as one person with one heart.’

David embarked on this war with deep faith in the rightness of the path. He had a good, beautiful, and comfortable life. He was married to his beloved Meital, and this is an opportunity to thank Meital, whom David loved ceaselessly. He was a student at Reichman University. But he volunteered to serve in a special unit and ‘went under the stretcher.’ Without unnecessary talk, without pathos; simply and happily, pure of mind, with mental and moral clarity. David has an iron backbone, clear and straightforward, which fully integrates the Book and the Sword. Torah and Derekh Eretz. Torah va-Avodah. He has deep roots, and speaks the language of the Beit Midrash and Torah study – peshat, derash, and hassidut; the language of modern culture; and also the language of soldiers. He knows exactly who and what he is, and to which values he is committed: an observant and God-fearing Jew; a Zionist and an Israeli, beloved and loving, beautiful inside and out, loyal and devoted to us – his parents, his siblings, Meital (his wife) and her family, and to his friends.

I always felt it was the greatest privilege to be your mother, David. I learned from you. I admired you. God granted me the special gift of you for twenty-six years. “God gave, but God took away” (Job 1:21). The boy is gone. And we – what are we to do? (based on Genesis 37:30). To this question, we currently have no answer, “because the worst of all evils has come to pass” (Nathan Alterman, “End of the Father”). All we have are the words of King David as he wept over the death of his son Abshalom: “My son, my son, If only I could have died in your place” (II Samuel 19:1).

I am not able to say goodbye to you, David. A mother cannot be parted from her son. I have been missing you for three months: the light that entered the house with you. The sweet smile on your lips. The bouquet of flowers you always made sure to bring. The special cakes. The family vacations. Our conversations into the small hours of the night on Shabbat, about Parashat Shavua, the situation in Israel, an article you read for university, anything. I will miss you all my life. I know this even now, and it is a pain that I cannot describe in words. But I will try as hard as I can, with the best of my strength, with God’s help, to act as you would expect from me. To be strong; to rejoice in the good; to trust in God. And thus to shine your special light on the world.

To our enemies I repeat the words spoken by Yisca Mark at Pedaya’s funeral: You will never defeat us. We will never retreat from the trenches of our lives. Of our leaders I would ask that you act wisely, with unity and moral clarity. And from the One who said ‘enough’ to the world at the conclusion of creation (Babylonian Talmud: Hagigah 12a), I would ask that He say “enough” to our troubles. I know not the calculations of the Heavens, but this is a heavy blow. I pray and implore to the Creator of the World: have compassion for us and save us. “For the Lord will comfort His people, He will redeem Jerusalem. The Lord will bear His holy arm in the sight of all the nations, and the very ends of the earth shall see the redemption of our God” (Isaiah 52:9-10).

Rest in peace, My David.

You are engraved on the tablet of my heart forever.

“An eternal love I have loved you” (Jeremiah 31:3).

Translation by Atara Snowbell