Holy Tears - BRING THEM HOME NOW (Vayeitzei)
for Omer Neutra z"l and his beautiful family
This week's Torah portion, Vayeitzei, meets us in a moment saturated with grief, resilience, and an unyielding demand for justice. We learned just recently of the confirmed death of Omer Neutra z"l, a young tank commander who gave his life defending Israel on October 7th. Omer was 21. He grew up in Plainview, New York, where I grew up, attended the same Solomon Schechter Day School I did, and spent his summers at Camp Ramah in Nyack as a lifeguard, where I spent mine—familiar places, familiar rhythms, all etched with the extraordinary simplicity of a Jewish life. Today, this Torah is for him, his family, and all those who hold his memory with love.
Vayeitzei speaks of tears—those of Leah and Rachel, matriarchs bound in a sisterly tension of love and longing, their lives complicated by the painful dynamics of fate. Leah's tears are often misunderstood. Tradition calls her eyes weak, but I see strength in those tears, a fierce softening of vision, purified by heartbreak. Rachel weeps, too. Later, in the words of Jeremiah, we hear her cry for her children, her voice carried through the ages: “Keep your voice from weeping, your eyes from tears; there is hope for your future.”
But hope feels distant today. It’s hard to speak of a hopeful future when the present is so raw. The grief we feel for Omer Neutra—like Leah’s and Rachel’s tears—is holy. It reflects the reality of loss, the agony of war, and the love we carry for our children, our people, our homeland. These tears are not signs of weakness; they are acts of sanctity.
And yet, we must act. Omer’s life demands that of us. His beautiful parents, Orna and Ronen, his loving brother, Daniel, and the community that raised him call on us not to falter. We cannot grow numb. We cannot allow despair to mute our voices. We owe it to Omer, to the hostages still waiting for freedom, to every soul held captive by terror and violence and uncertainty.
Today, let us cry—and let us channel those tears into something transformative. Push your leaders, amplify your voice, and shout to the heavens: Bring Them Home Now. Four hundred and twenty-three days later, we cannot grow tired. Wear the number. Share the plea. Dedicate your heart to this sacred work, just as Leah and Rachel dedicated theirs to a future they could only dream of.
As we prepare to light candles this month for Hanukkah, a festival of rededication, may we rededicate ourselves to hope, to action, and to each other. Let the memory of Omer Neutra be a blessing—a call to love fiercely, to hold our children tenderly, and to fight for a future worthy of their hearts.
May we carry Omer’s light forward. May we cry holy tears. And let us not stop shouting until they are in our arms once more: Bring them home now. Bring them home now. #BringThemHomeNow.
Amen.