This Is How Benjamin Netanyahu and His Parents Attended My Son's Brit

'Every year again when I light the Chanukah candles here in the Holy Land, I am filled with indescribable joy,' says Avraham Sharbatyev. 'More than 40 years have passed since we came to the land, and every year the feeling of gratitude grows stronger and stronger,' he notes with excitement.

He was born in Tajikistan in Central Asia, which at that time meant Communist Russia. 'There was no Jewish community in our area except our extended family,' he points out, 'but unlike other places in Russia, we all knew of our Judaism, but observed the commandments in a very partial way, because after so many years of communism, no religious symbols remained in the country, and we simply did not know how to keep them.

'For example, we would light a menorah during Chanukah, but we didn't know the blessings to recite, where to place it, or in what order to light the candles, and certainly we didn't know the miracle story behind the Chanukah lights. Now, here in the Holy Land, participating in the Chanukah candle lighting with my five children and sweet grandchildren, I feel we've done the impossible, emerging from such a spiritual desert to ascend to the land and recognize the Creator of the World. How can one not be thankful for that?'

Thanks to Grandpa

Sharbatyev's story is packed with personal guidance at every step. 'As a child, I studied at a regular school in our city, and of course, I regularly heard nicknames like: 'Zhid' and 'Dirty Jew.' The kids saw in the class roster that it was written I was Jewish, and they knew I was the only Jew in the class. They didn't harm or physically hurt me because of that, but gave me the feeling that being Jewish is second-class.'

He would spend the afternoons mainly at home, with his extended family led by his grandfather - the only Jewish remnant in the area from pre-communism days. 'Grandpa was born in 1902, so he managed to study in a cheder and get to know Judaism closely until 1917 when communism began,' he explains. 'Grandpa really wanted to preserve the religion, but because so many years had passed, he himself didn't really remember the details and laws. For instance, every year during Sukkot, he built us a sukkah, but its fixed place was under a vine tree, meaning - it was invalid.

'We also had a special structure we entered only to make wine and bake matzot, and when we asked grandpa why we couldn't buy wine in the store, he answered: 'We're not allowed to drink wine made by non-Jews.' There were many small things grandpa remembered and told us about, out of great longing. He was also the only one who spoke Hebrew and knew how to read and write Hebrew, and he had many memories from the cheder, but we were completely disconnected from Judaism - like captives lost to it in every sense.'

But then, after many years of oppression and understanding that nobody truly desired to be close to them, a turning point occurred in Sharbatyev's life. 'It was following Operation Entebbe,' he recounts. 'I was then sixteen, and when I heard about the operation carried out by the state of Israel, a state much smaller than the cities familiar to me, and yet led such a daring mission to release hostages, all under the direction of Yoni Netanyahu, the Israeli hero who sadly found his end. This operation truly inspired me and empowered me. I suddenly felt like a proud Jew, and a strong desire awakened in me to ascend to the Land of Israel - the Holy Land,' he says.

This operation also led him to become more connected to religion and Judaism. 'At that time, grandpa was no longer young, and I remember pleading with him to tell me everything he knew about commandments and prayers. Grandpa was so moved, and he would dedicate long hours writing me blessings and prayers in Russian because, at that time, I didn't know Hebrew at all.

'Grandpa wrote me the words 'Amen, Yehei Shmei Rabba Mevorach,' and also the words 'Amen,' 'Baruch Hu u'Baruch Shemo,' among others - all in Russian letters. This greatly intrigued me, and grandpa would always encourage me: 'Take the note I wrote for you in Russian, and we will pray together.'

Sharbatyev notes that in the end, it was his dear grandpa, who dreamed all his life to ascend to the land, who passed away without fulfilling that dream. 'We stood around his grave and recited Kaddish as he taught us, from the notebook,' he recalls tearfully. 'There are no words to describe what grandpa gave us in his life. Thanks to him, we knew we were Jews; he even performed secret circumcisions for all his grandchildren, and undoubtedly, because of him, the tradition did not leave the family and we weren't assimilated among all the non-Jews.'

Important Guests at the Brit

Sharbatyev immigrated to Israel at the beginning of the 1980s, settled in Jerusalem, and even found a job in a factory. Shortly after, he got married, and his first daughter was born. 'In 1987, our son was born,' he recounts.

In the days before his wife's delivery, his manager asked him to take his car keys to drive a very important woman to her destination. 'I have many drivers,' he told him, 'but I chose you because you know how to show respect, and here we're dealing with an important woman who needs to be taken on time and treated with respect.'

Sharbatyev got into the car, but when he searched for the woman's address, he got lost and drove around for a long time until finally finding the house. This led to a surprising series of events. 'A conversation developed between me and this woman,' he recounts, 'and at a certain point, I told her that my wife is due to give birth any moment.

'Her reaction was unexpected. She asked me: 'Have you thought about what to name the baby?' And I answered truthfully: 'We've decided to call him Yonatan, after the hero from Operation Entebbe who connected me so much to Judaism and strengthened me.' She was silent for a few minutes, then asked: 'And what would you say if I told you I'm Yoni's mother?' 'In response, I felt weak in my knees and couldn't speak until the end of the ride.

'Eventually, we arrived at Mrs. Netanyahu's home, and she invited me to come up and see Yoni's room, some of the items in which remained just as they had been on the day they were placed. It was very emotional, and as we said goodbye, she asked me to update her with the date of my son's Brit. The update indeed came the following week, and though I didn't expect it - three important guests came to the Brit: Prof. Ben-Zion Netanyahu and his wife, accompanied by their son – none other than Benjamin Netanyahu, who was serving as ambassador to the UN at the time.'

37 years have passed since that day, which happened precisely during Chanukah. 'Today my son Yonatan is already thirty-seven years old,' Sharbatyev points out, 'Thank Hashem, he has a family, and he brings us much satisfaction. But at the time this story happened, another significant event occurred in my life, as it was those days that marked my initial acquaintance with Rabbi Yagen of blessed memory, who set me on a path through which I merited to come close to Judaism with all my heart, to know the commandments and laws, and to raise a household with children who follow the Torah's path.'

And what about Benjamin Netanyahu? Have you talked since?

He smiles. 'The next times I happened to speak with Netanyahu were as part of my role as the head of Shas in the Adam locality, and a professional relationship formed between us for several matters. Nowadays, I'm no longer in that position, but I find myself moved every time anew by the turn of events, and thank the Creator of the World for the miracles He performed for me and the fact that I'm here today.'