Like Avraham Avinu, they came to the burial spot לִסְפֹּד וְלִבְכֹּות, to mourn for Hadar and cry for him. The Kfar Saba military cemetery overflowed with love for Hadar and for solidarity with his parents, Simcha and Leah Goldin, and to mark the return of his body long after he died fighting in Gaza on August 1, 2014. This young man's shining countenance, mirroring his impassioned soul, represents the very best of our chayalim and chayalot. His פרי עץ הדר, fruits of a beautiful tree, were recounted this week and remind us just how privileged we are to be protected by soldiers like Hadar and his comrades. Many of these chayalim and chayalot are spiritual heroes in addition to being protectors of the Jewish people; religious greatness is not limited to the walls of the בית מדרש.

Simcha Goldin, a medieval Jewish history professor at Tel Aviv University, reread the eulogy he had first delivered eleven years ago at a ceremony marking the death of Hadar. At that time, they buried Hadar's favorite sefer in lieu of his body: the Mesillas Yesharim by Rav Moshe Chaim Luzzatto. Mesillas Yesharim, originally published in 1738, remains an essential text for refining one's character traits as one grows closer to Hashem. Hadar took personal growth seriously. When Leah taught him to sew, he embroidered the words עז וענוה, courage and humility, onto his uniform. A gifted artist, he painted and drew and expressed his innermost thoughts on canvas. His favorite tefillah, the one that was always upon his lips? The Aderaba prayer of Rav Elimelech of Lizhensk:

אַדְרַבָּה, תֵּן בְּלִבֵּנוּ שֶׁנִרְאֶה כָּל אֶחָד מַעֲלַת חֲבֵרֵינוּ וְלֹא חֶסְרוֹנָם

Instead, place in our hearts the ability to see the value of our friends and not their deficiencies

וְשֶׁנְדַבֵּר כָּל אֶחָד אֶת חֲבֵרוֹ בַּדֶרֶךְ הַיָשָׁר וְהָרָצוּי לְפָנֶיךָ

And that we should speak with each other in a straight and desired way before you

וְאַל יַעֲלֶה בְּלִבֵּנוּ, שׁוּם שִּׂנְאָה מֵאֶחָד עַל חֲבֵרוֹ חָלִילָה

.And may there not arise in our hearts any hatred between one and his fellow, ever 

Is our fractured Jewish world not in desperate need of an Aderaba, a contrarian viewpoint, in which every contributor to the nation is honored and respected for their sacrifices? In which those different from us are not the enemy

Simcha also stated: “Hadar never cursed, and he didn’t allow his soldiers to use swear words. I ask that you behave accordingly, and there will be a little more Hadar (majesty) in our daily lives.”

This detail about Hadar’s refined manner of speaking may seem hopelessly antiquated, even naive to broach, but avoiding disgusting speech, ניבול פה, is one of the hallmarks of the Jew. The use of foul language represents an unacceptable acceptance of the coarse culture in which we dwell. How can the same mouth that speaks to its Creator in tefillah then spew gutter language? What is common in general society must not be viewed as the baseline for our behavior. 

The use of curse words indicates a lack of appreciation for our elevated task in this world: to produce a sanctification of God’s name. Perhaps if we respected that sacred role, we would converse more carefully. The slinging of profanities runs afoul of more than just the prohibition of ניבול פה that is a subcategory of קדשים תהיו (see Ramban, Vayikra 19:2). It reveals a personality that does not recognize its own majesty, its own הדר.

How do we know that the way we speak in mundane situations matters? From the longest chapter in the Torah, Bereishis 24. Its 67 pesukim contain a double narrative of Eliezer’s journey to Charan to find a wife for Yitzchak. The Torah describes Eliezer’s encounter with Rivkah and her camels at the well, and then Eliezer retells the episode to Rivkah’s family nearly identically. The lesson from this excess verbiage (Bereishis Rabbah 60:8):

יפה שיחתם של עבדי אבות לפני המקום מתורתן של בנים, שהרי פרשת אליעזר כפולה בתורה, והרבה גופי תורה לא ניתנו אלא ברמיזה

The conversation of the servants of our forefathers is more desirable to God than the teachings of the children, for the narrative of Eliezer is doubled in the Torah, but many Torah principles were only given via hint. 

Eliezer’s mundane conversation was endowed with meaning and purpose, and is treasured by Hashem. If you understand that as a Jew you have a mission to fulfill, the words you choose will reflect majesty. Crassness and crudeness bespeak ignorance of Hadar. The double account in Chayei Sarah teaches us to value שיחה, the way we talk.

Once we have established the power of that שיחה, we conclude with another transformative שיחה:

וַיֵּצֵא יִצְחָק לָשׂוּחַ בַּשָּׂדֶה לִפְנוֹת עָרֶב וַיִּשָּׂא עֵינָיו וַיַּרְא וְהִנֵּה גְמַלִּים בָּאִים׃

And Yitzchak went out to converse in the field toward evening and, looking up, he saw camels approaching.

Chazal have a tradition that explains Yitzchak’s presence in the field late in the afternoon as Eliezer and Rivkah arrived on their camels (Brachos 26b):

יִצְחָק תִּקֵּן תְּפִלַּת מִנְחָה, שֶׁנֶּאֱמַר ״וַיֵּצֵא יִצְחָק לָשׂוּחַ בַּשָּׂדֶה לִפְנוֹת עָרֶב״, וְאֵין ״שִׂיחָה״ אֶלָּא תְּפִלָּה, שֶׁנֶּאֱמַר ״תְּפִלָּה לְעָנִי כִי יַעֲטֹף וְלִפְנֵי ה׳ יִשְׁפֹּךְ שִׂיחוֹ״.

Yitzchak instituted the afternoon prayer, as it is stated: “And Yitzchak went out to converse [lasuaḥ] in the field toward evening” (Genesis 24:63), and conversation means nothing other than prayer, as it is stated: “A prayer of the afflicted when he is faint and pours out his complaint [siḥo] before the Lord” (Psalms 102:1). 

Yitzchak’s שיחה becomes the precedent for Mincha. As the skies darkened, Yitzchak went into the field to engage in an elevated conversation with God, absorbed in the shechinah. It was a sight so majestic to behold that it caused Rivkah to fall from her camel (24:64). But Eliezer’s שיחה was no less majestic. He was not praying to God the whole time, but was rather interacting with people along his journey. Eliezer's every sentence was geared toward ensuring the continuation of Avraham's covenant and values, though, so it was far from mundane. Hadar Goldin, Yitzchak and Eliezer, teach us the power of self-respect while using our words. And also, to never give up hope. 

The Apter Rav, the Oheiv Yisrael, notes that the gematria of שיח, conversation, is 318, which is one more than יאוש, giving up hope, 317. As the sun sets and darkness descends, one might be inclined to despair. Yitzchak’s Mincha prayer resuscitated hope and dispelled darkness; he did not succumb to יאוש. Eliezer, Avraham’s faithful servant, faced his daunting task with positivity and confidence. Secure in his mission, he invested in proper conversation. And the wonderful, sweet Goldin family, having suffered immensely for eleven years, having lobbied kings and presidents to recover their Hadar, having traveled the world to converse with any influential figure, never gave up hope that Hadar would have a proper burial. The sun set on them many times, but their patience and steely resolve, their fidelity to mission, their עז וענוה, courage and humility, never wavered. 318, not 317. We are with Leah and Simcha, and are blessed to be of a nation that produces majestic sons and daughters like Hadar.