An American in Yerushalayim – The Power of Tears

By Dov Fuchs

Words can be powerful, inspiring, but also hurtful.

A well-delivered speech can change lives, motivate people and even ignite revolutions. Or it can, tragically, cause discord, strife and even war. Depending on the choice of words and the manner in which they are delivered, a person can use speech to change the world for the better or for the worse.

There is another form of expression which is even more powerful: tears. They are a language unto themselves. Words need not be spoken; heartrending tears say it all.

The coldest temperament, the hardest of hearts, must struggle to remain apathetic to the penetrating call of someone in tears. Much like the Midrash relates about the Egyptians’ cruel tactics of making one baby cry to instigate another, every tear seems to draw out its parallel from the deepest chambers of an observer’s heart.

I was blessed to have learned in a cheder that often brought in guest speakers and Gedolim to address the children. Some spoke in Yiddish, some in English, and some just greeted us, shook our hands and gave a short brachah.

Unfortunately, I don’t remember any of the things they spoke about and all that remains are their saintly visages. But the tears I remember. The crying, the sobs reaching a crescendo, and then a pause, as they were unable to continue; those memories linger in my mind.

I remember Harav Elya Svei, zt”l, visiting. He spoke in Yiddish and I didn’t understand a word. But I knew that there was something authentic, something that pained him. The Kaliver Rebbe, zy”a, came as well. Though he spoke in English, I don’t recall the words he said. But when he cried, that left an impact that remains with me to this day.

I am jealous of the children in a local cheder here in Eretz Yisrael who were zocheh to have a special visitor, one of the great tzaddikim of the generation. I don’t know what the full program was or if he was scheduled to speak. But he sang with them.

And he cried.

Niggunim of yearning for Moshiach and reinstating Hashem’s glory in the world wafted through the auditorium and the tzaddik tried to sing along. But he couldn’t; he was sobbing uncontrollably.

Hearing the sweet, pure voices of tinokos shel beis rabban singing heilige niggunim of longing and tzipiyah liyeshuah moved him, and the songs themselves brought him to tears. His tears had their inevitable effect on me and I felt my own eyes water.

It’s their inherent power; you can’t remain impervious.

I hope, I pray and I know that Avinu ShebaShamayim is touched by them as well.  n