"Elisha Told Me They're Fighting Hard; I Asked Him to Keep Safe"

"When you went out to war, on the night after Simchat Torah, I told you that all the books in the library envy you," said Hadas Levinshtern in the moving eulogy she delivered at her husband Elisha Levinshtern's funeral, who fell in combat in Gaza. "I told you that the Rambam and the Ramban, the Pri Tzadik and the Ritva, they would all trade places with you in a second because you have the merit to do what Jews have only dreamed of for two thousand years – to go out and protect the land."

It is no coincidence that Hadas emphasized these things. In a conversation we hold with her during the shiva for her husband, she emphasizes: "Elisha was a true scholar, with all the virtues of a learned man. For ten years, he engaged only in Torah study, and then went to work, but continued to be a scholar, even when he was a high-tech worker and worked nine hours a day, even when he was doing sports, and really in every situation. You could always see that he lived according to halacha, according to the Torah."

The Power of Torah

They married thirteen years ago. Hadas, who returned to religious observance, and Elisha, who immigrated with his family from the U.S. "Elisha’s family had all the resources to continue living a comfortable life there," she points out, "but his parents chose to move to Israel and tie their fate with its destiny. They planted their first tree in Beit Shemesh, with great excitement for the roots they were setting in the holy ground of Israel. They never imagined that the sacred ground would embrace their son at such a young age," she adds.

On the night after Simchat Torah, Elisha was called for reserve duty, and as Hadas notes, he didn’t think twice. "I really wanted the war to have a different ending, that he would come back home and we would continue building our life together with our six children with our packed schedule and tasks," Hadas stated in her eulogy, but also added, speaking to her husband: "Before we married, I told you that I want to establish a new branch for Hashem, a branch that would be entirely founded on clouds of holiness, that we truly do what Hashem wants us to do. Now I’m left to manage the branch alone, and I promise you that not only will the spectacle of our life not diminish, but it will grow despite everything."

Your strengths seem unnatural. Where do you draw them from?

"I gain strength from the Torah, only from the Torah," she frankly replies. "Hashem has granted me the merit, and for years now, He has placed me in a role where I engage as a lecturer in Judaism. I travel throughout the country speaking before women and girls, teaching in seminaries and institutions. I truly feel that all the lectures I have delivered so far have prepared me for this. All the strength comes from there."

Still, there is a difference between learning Torah and living it...

"I don't think so. Our Torah is a way of life, and there's no way to learn it without living it. That's how it was in my shared life with Elisha. It's no coincidence that during the week of shiva so many scholars came to console us, because we truly always had the privilege of being surrounded by people of Torah, and lived life with great admiration for the scholars and the Torah. Our children always knew that when we go on trips during Passover, we’re visiting Rabbi Rimon in Alon Shvut, and if there’s a family vacation, we’re going to the yeshiva in Yeruham. Life always revolved around the Torah, and when someone lived in such a way, he also passed away in such a manner, which is no surprise at all. By the way, in the last photo taken of Elisha in Gaza, he is seen sitting and studying the daily Rambam. It moved me, but did not surprise me at all, because I’m used to this for years. My husband studied the daily Rambam every day, even when I was in the delivery room and at the most stressful times. It’s simply part of him. That’s how he lived – a true life of Torah. Despite not being a classic yeshiva student, his entire life revolved around the Torah and its scholars."

Sharp Mind and Gentle Soul

Hadas notes that people who came to comfort during the shiva mentioned more than once that they "barely ever heard Elisha," meaning he was very gentle and didn’t raise his voice. "It's interesting because usually very smart and sharp people are quick to share their opinions with others, but Elisha wasn’t like that," she notes, "even when he had a certain thought that wasn't straightforward, he expressed it in a gentle and pleasant manner. He had a sharp mind and a gentle soul. He had an amazing ability to listen to the person across from him and understand them completely, without feeling threatened by the fact that the other person held a different opinion. Sometimes, in the end, Elisha would share his opinion, and sometimes he wouldn’t. It wasn’t urgent for him, it didn’t burn in him. Just yesterday, someone asked me what was Elisha's standout trait and what made him unique. I didn’t have to think long to say that this was exactly what stood out in him – that he didn’t stand out. He simply wasn’t looking for it."

And how do you explain to the kids that their dad was killed?

"Thank Hashem, I have six children – the oldest is 12, and the youngest is ten months old. I explain things differently to each according to their age. To the very young ones, I say that dad went to fight for Hashem, to defeat the bad guys, and the wicked killed dad. I also emphasize that, thank Hashem, the other members of dad's tank survived, though they are injured. Together, we pray for their recovery, and I would be happy if everyone reading the article could recite Psalms for the recovery of Shahar Shirael ben Ronit, Tom ben Yael, and Omri ben Adina.

"With the older children, we have deeper conversations. We talk about how dad volunteered to go to war even though he wasn’t drafted. According to army regulations, those with six children or more, or who are over forty, are not required to go to reserve duty. Elisha volunteered; it was simply clear to him that he was going, because that’s how he was raised always and forever. I stood behind him and encouraged him to go to war. It was clear to both of us that this was a historic opportunity to fight for the people and the land, a mission."

Honestly, weren’t you afraid of him fighting in Gaza?

"Look, I’m not naïve. I understood the implications and knew that if my husband entered Gaza, he might get killed in battle, but alongside that, I had full faith that we were performing a great mitzvah here and merited to protect the land. Our last conversation was on the night after Shabbat, just days before he fell, and it was truly uplifting. Elisha told me they were fighting hard and giving a lot of force. He also spoke of his role as the 'gunner,' the one pressing the button and firing. I strengthened him in that conversation, asked him to take care of himself, and we spoke repeatedly about the merit."

Finally, Hadas wishes to convey a message to the people of Israel, who are experiencing such challenging and painful days: "In the Talmud, in the tractate Sukkah, it says: 'All the citizens of Israel will dwell in the sukkot, teaching that all of Israel are worthy of sitting in one sukkah.' Unfortunately, this past Sukkot holiday, we didn’t manage to sit in one sukkah together with all of Israel, so here comes Hashem and builds us mourning sukkot to teach us to unite. I can say that in our personal mourning tent, countless people from all across the spectrum visited – from the farthest left-wing to the more moderate right-wing and religious. This did not surprise me at all, as this is how our lives and Elisha's always looked. It is not death that connected the edges, but the life of Elisha that was united. We can only pray and hope that we will always merit to sit together only out of joy, and not only unite in times of difficulty."