Send to a Friend | Print | Fathers cry too The mothers of all three kidnapped Israeli teenagers have taken center stage so far • Now Ophir Shaer, the father of Gil-ad, speaks out for the first time • When it is quiet I can hear Gil-ad calling me for help, he says. Emily Amrous We have six children -- five girls and Gil-ad. He is my only son. That was the first thing I thought about when I realized that he was kidnapped: I cannot lose my only son. The bad thoughts are there. I cant erase them. So I tell them: Move aside for now. I clear room in my head for doing things. I focus on being productive for myself and for Gil-ad. I try to control the thoughts, tire myself out with tasks, just to avoid a single moment of quiet. When it is quiet I can hear Gil-ad calling me for help. Ophir Shaer, 43, is the last person you would ever imagine in a situation like this: standing in front of television cameras, walking red carpets at the Presidents Residence. He is a lawyer and an accountant. He is shy. He hates being interviewed. But this isnt really an interview; I have already disclosed my personal relationship with the Shaer family. We are neighbors. We have known each other for years. I accompany Ophir and Bat-Galim Shaer, parents of kidnapped teen Gil-ad Shaer, to the Knesset. I am there as a friend of the family. On the way, we converse. It is not an interview. It was the mothers of each of the three abducted teenagers who took center stage. Bat-Galim, Naftali Frenkels mother Rachel and Eyal Yifrachs mother Iris all possess the kind of personalities and eloquence that propelled them to the front. The three mothers have become a symbol. Their spouses, Avi, Uri and Ophir, stand behind them, both physically and mentally. Silent male support, ostensibly strong, that cracks in this heartbreakingly open conversation. What gives you strength? Gil-ad, first and foremost. Im discovering, from all the different circles, what kind of son we raised. I hear stories told by his friends, the kids he counsels in his Bnei Akiva [youth movement] group, and I realize just how wonderful he is. Second, from my amazing wife. I dont feel overshadowed by Bat-Galim. We have a complementary relationship. There is strength in silence as well. I give her strength when she cries, and she gives me strength at other times. Men cry too. When it becomes necessary, I will take a step toward the front of the stage, but Bat-Galim is better suited for it. Even when I pray, I am not one of those people who rock back and forth in all directions. It is more of an internal experience for me. I have this feeling that we are on a mission. I cant explain why, but the fact that we are here, in this place, is a responsibility. But I am no martyr. I have the fatherly impulse to protect my son, to hold him, hug him, do everything for him. I have moments when I break down. I cry when I see pictures of him, that is why I avoid looking at newspapers. I have these flashes of memories, of me wrapping him up in a tallit [prayer shawl] as we recite a prayer, or of various images from different times in his life. I ask about Gil-ad as a child. I hear the story of his birth from Bat-Galim, and Ophir adds: He was a beautiful, round baby. People would stop us on the street and admire him. We named him Gil-ad. It was only after the brit that we realized that the spelling of his name could be read as Galed so we changed the spelling to Gil-ad [ever joyful], in hopes that the joy would accompany him forever. In his identification he is still listed as Gilad. In 16 years we havent found the time to change it. Sometimes, gifted children experience social difficulties but Gil-ad, as a child, was both gifted and a natural social leader. It was always Gil-ad who organized birthday parties for his friends, or Lag BOmer bonfires. He is also an amazing brother. He has an excellent relationship with his sisters, especially with Shirel (18), which includes texting and phone calls. When the youngest sister Maor was born, he cried so hard that it was another girl, but ultimately he became crazy about her. We joked that he was a prince who turned into a king. Ahead of his bar mitzvah, Gil-ad and his parents embarked on an internal quest themed In all thy ways acknowledge Him (Proverbs 3:6). We wanted him to become acquainted with people who integrate the Torah world with the secular world. We met with Professor Robert Aumann, Rabbi David Grossman, rabbi and author Haim Sabato. Together we learned about the virtues of Roi Klein [a soldier who died heroically during the 2006 Second Lebanon War], and attended a memorial service for him on Mount Herzl. When Gil-ad reached high school age, he was accepted by the Makor Chaim yeshiva in Kfar Etzion. The religious seminary is considered one of the most prestigious schools among the religious public. When he left home to attend the seminary it wasnt easy. During the first few months he had some difficulties, he was homesick and he longed for home cooking. Later he said that he felt empowered by the school. He got all the goodness that the yeshiva could grant him. Combing the streets The car ride from Talmon to Kfar Etzion takes an hour and 15 minutes. By bus, it takes about four to five hours and buses are few and far between. At first we forbade him from hitchhiking. We would drive him, or he would get home with other students parents. But then a disparity arose between parental worry and a childs independence. He is a responsible kid, and we also talked at home a lot about how to hitchhike responsibly. Today it is clear to us that this could have happened to him anywhere else. In our reality, when you live in a remote hole and study in a different remote hole, you cant tell a child, Dont hitchhike. We preferred knowing. Gil-ad always told us where he was. He sent us updates from every intersection. If his mobile phone battery ran out, he would ask someone on the street if he could use his phone and send a text message so we wouldnt worry. Two weeks ago, on Thursday night, Gil-ad did not send a text message. At 1:30 a.m., after calls to his number started going directly to voicemail, his parents realized that something had to be wrong. They thought he might have become stuck somewhere with no battery, so they immediately set out looking for him, driving along the road he would have taken home. They arrived at the Modiin police station at 3 a.m., after having called all his friends. They also contacted all the military liaison offices in the area. Ophir combed the streets with Avi, Naftali Frenkels father. While on the road, they continued to contact police and military call centers, trying to convince people that something serious had happened. The phone numbers are written down on a piece of paper that is still in Ophirs car. When I drove with Avi from Beit Shemesh to Gush Etzion, emotionally swinging between hope and despair, beginning to realize that this is it, we formed an alliance. Outwardly, Avi radiates a demeanor of strength, but we both felt the breaking points. Two men in a car, holding back the tears, sniffling, trying not to cry. We both come from a very rational background, but those hours spent together were powerfully emotional. We both took deep breaths to avoid falling apart. At 11 a.m., when we parted, we realized that we were now in a situation that we were not prepared for. We knew that we had to be strong for the family, and we had to do this without knowing anything. The situation started sinking in gradually. At 4 a.m. the police had told us that the last cellular signal from Gil-ads phone was from Hebron. The sky fell on us, but we still didnt fully comprehend what happened. Bit by bit we started piecing the picture together, but it was not yet complete. It was only on Friday that we learned of a third kidnapped boy, Eyal Yifrach. They went into emergency mode. There is a permanent police post on their street and at the entrance of the house. There is an organized volunteer chart indicating who is on dinner duty and who is responsible for welcoming guests. The normally introverted parents, who, until now, have shied away from the spotlight, are no longer confused by the armies of cameras that record their every move. They have grown accustomed to the fact that other drivers on the road recognize them as they stand in traffic on the way to synagogue. They thank well-wishers with a nod. They go from meeting to meeting, repeating the same remarks. But the heart is not accustomed. At night they toss and turn. Every once in a while they are hit with an electric shock of pure terror. The circumstances have forced me to do things I would never do otherwise. I see Gil-ad in my minds eye and I draw strength from him. In these two weeks I have turned into a different person. For him. Quick decision-making, for example, is against my nature. Exposure in the media, exposure to all the visitors who come to the house, opening my house to thousands of visitors. This invasion of privacy, which brings a lot of blessings and a lot of strength, runs contrary to our intimate, closed off family atmosphere. Strangers fill up our refrigerator, iron my shirts. It helps a lot, but it is so not us. Several weeks ago, my daughter saw the Knesset speaker at a coffee shop near Talmon. She took a picture and sent it to me with the message, Youre not going to believe who I saw here. Now, all the cabinet ministers visit our home on a daily basis. The children dont even get excited. Within all the chaos, I make sure to pray all three prayers with a minyan [a quorum of 10 men] at the synagogue rather than making excuses for myself. I was asked whether I wanted a minyan at my house, but I dont want it to look like a shiva [the seven-day Jewish mourning period]. I also make sure to serve my guests food and beverages, to ward off the semblance of a shiva, he said, referring to the Jewish tradition by which a mourner does not serve food to his guests. Hosting guests every day is exhausting, but empowering at the same time, he continued. Strangers come over, sometimes having traveled long distances, and we cant tell them not to come in. More than that, we are afraid of the moment when the visits stop and we remain by ourselves. One evening this week, I sat with a group of friends. We were engaged in lively conversation and I was immersed in rational thought. When the people dispersed, each to his own home, I felt like I was falling into an abyss: They were going home to their children and I was without my child. It is a terrible feeling. At first I said to God: Enough, we get it, we rose above, we tried. You gave us such a big warning, the kidnapping -- we get it. Now I dont try to make deals with God anymore. There are sections of prayer that suddenly take on new meaning. Verses that are usually recited as a matter of routine, quickly, suddenly have a profound meaning. How are Gil-ads sisters handling this? Shirel is displaying immense strength. People who speak with her are astounded by her inner power. Maor (4) understands that people are looking for Gil-ad and cant find him. Other children at her daycare center told her that Gil-ad was kidnapped, but she doesnt understand the meaning of the word. One of the commanders of the rescue operation lives in Talmon, and his son is in day care with Maor. She said to him: I heard your dad is looking for my brother. Tell him that when he finds him to bring him straight home. On Monday, the three mothers flew to Geneva to address the U.N. Human Rights Council. The fathers stayed behind. I felt like I went with Bat-Galim. We are together -- it doesnt matter if our bodies are in Talmon or in Switzerland. On the other hand, it was the first time we were apart since this nightmare began and I missed her immensely. There was also the need to keep up this difficult routine, to take care of the girls, to meet with people. I watched them marching in Geneva, so alone in a sea of strangers, and I wanted to tell them: You are not three mothers against the world, the way the papers said. It is once again a case of the entire world being against one people. It is outrageous that countries like China and Syria -- champions of human rights, womens rights and minority rights -- are members of the Human Rights Council. That a dictatorship like Venezuela can criticize Israel. That Irans representatives talk about justice. They give Rachel Frenkel two minutes on the clock and then they move on to condemning the construction in Jerusalem. They are worthy of our utmost admiration, not just because they stood up in front of the entire world, not just because of their support and faith in the IDF, but because of the immense efforts they invest in maintaining a facade of normalcy. I saw Bat-Galim fight with all her might this week to restore the houses non-emergency daily routine. To fold her own laundry. Not to let the girls fall behind on their homework or skip a bath here and there. To attend Maors kindergarten end-of-year party before meeting with a senior defense official. To make it to Hallels recital after meeting with a cabinet minister. To be a mom, not just to Gil-ad. Under any other circumstances, I could have enjoyed the trip to Switzerland, Bat-Galim remarks. But this was a nightmare. It was a nightmare within a nightmare. What we sometimes read in the papers about anti-Israel sentiments, this time it was directed at us. I needed more mental preparation to face the kind of indifference I encountered there. It was frustrating. You meed another senior official and another senior official, the president of the Red Cross and members of the Human Rights Council, and no one bats an eye. People say you are too nice. Ophir: We support the government, but we ask the right people the right, piercing questions. It is possible to be fierce but nice. We have faith. We saw the security forces go deep into the field, we met with the top echelon of the defense establishment, we saw that they were doing real work. It is true that there is a blind faith that we were taught in the IDF and in the State of Israel, but we have our ears to the ground to make sure everything possible is being done for our children. We raised Gil-ad to appreciate his country. We dont have time. We cant afford to say that in a week, the gloves will come off, because time is critical right now. Our son is depending on us. The only thing keeping him afloat, other than his love for life, is the knowledge that we will reach him. At the Knesset, they asked the parents to choose a song that Gil-ad particularly likes. It will be performed by a singer at a special Knesset session. They chose the song Hold on tight, my little leaf, by Avraham Fried. I ask Ophir if there is anything he feels it is important for him to say, maybe a message to the government. He chooses love. A childs strength is made up of drops of love and warmth that we give him throughout his childhood. It is his fuel, and he can use it at times like this, and at other times. I am convinced that some of the strength keeping Gil-ad comes from that. I want to urge everyone to cherish those moments when they hug their children. Breathe deeply, even when youre mad. Understand what it is to hug a child: It is to give him strength in the future. The way to build up a child is not to send him to classes or to criticize him but to give him faith, acceptance, love, an embrace. Dont get me wrong, we are not some utopian story of a father and son marching into the sunset. Keep in mind that Gil-ad is a teenager. There were arguments too. One time there was tension between us and Gil-ad was at yeshiva. I called him and told him: Whatever happens, know that I love you. Just know that. There was silence on the other side. I miss telling him that I love him now so much. What is the first thing you want to do with Gil-ad the day he comes home? I will go mountain biking with him. It has been my dream since the beginning of the year, to go on a biking trip with him in the area. It hasnt happened yet. The minute he gets back, it will happen.
Posted on: Fri, 27 Jun 2014 15:27:32 +0000
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