Israel was in the heat of the War of Independence and Rabbi
Chaim Shmuelevitz had just been blessed with the birth of a baby
boy. Shells rained from the sky as the Rabbi and a family member
who accompanied him made their way to attend the Bris Milah
(circumcision). When the shells began falling they would take
shelter in houses along the way, and then continue the journey
to the Bris. During a break in the shelling they saw an injured
child, arms and feet in bandages, through one of the doorways
they passed. The sight of this young casualty tore at the
Rabbi’s heart and he stood by the doorway with tearful eyes. His
companion urged him to continue on to the Bris celebration, but
the Rabbi remained locked in his tracks. “Some foolishly think
that sharing the burden with someone only means to offer
assistance,” he explained. “His injuries have already been
addressed, and I can no longer physically help the boy, but I
can still share his pain.” The Jewish encampment was ready to
travel forward to the promised la