FROM ISOLATION TO ILLUMINATION

Last Monday night, our shul was fuller than I have ever seen it. People were even sitting in the aisles upstairs as they crowded in to hear Eli Sharabi, a man who had survived 491 days of brutal captivity in Gaza. Eli sat before us with quiet dignity and deep pain, sharing the unimaginable: his wife Lianne and daughters, Yahel and Noiya, had been murdered by Hamas on October 7. His brother Yossi died in captivity. And yet, Eli’s presence among us was not only a testimony of grief—it was an act of strength, resilience, and moral clarity.

This week, as we read the double Torah portion of Tazria–Metzora, we find a profound echo of Eli’s journey. These portions detail the condition of tzara’at, an affliction that results in physical symptoms but carries spiritual and social consequences. Those affected are sent into isolation—“outside the camp shall his dwelling be” (Leviticus 13:46). Solitude is prescribed by the Torah, but it was also a space for transformation. When healed, the individual re-enters the community through a process of purification and affirmation.

Eli, too, experienced isolation on every level—cut off from news, family, and the rhythms of normal life. And yet, he said the Shema, marked Shabbat, whispered Kiddush over water, and clung to the fragments of Jewish life in darkness. His emergence is not just personal; it demands a communal response. Over 1,400 of us gathered to hear him not out of curiosity, but to take part in his reintegration—to witness his pain, to amplify his voice, and to shoulder the responsibility he placed upon us: “Bring home the living, and bury the dead.”

The Sages link tzara’at to the power of speech—its misuse causes harm, but its proper use can heal. Eli’s speech was sacred. In telling his story, he not only honoured the memory of those lost, but gave voice to those still voiceless in captivity.

Tazria–Metzora teaches that healing requires more than just time—it needs ritual, listening, and community. This week, we saw that lesson lived out before our eyes. Pain isolates. Testimony reconnects. And in the face of horror, Eli Sharabi reminded us that even in great darkness, we are called to become bearers of light.