Ness Tziyona, September 21, 1941
It's the eve of Rosh Hashanah. Two years have already passed since I left home. Two years away from my mother, my home; from my brother I've been away three years; and I've lived two years in the Land. If I could, I would write a few words to my mother. I have so much to tell her. It's hard to know what I'd talk to her about were we to meet now. I would tell her about these years, about my dreams, my plans, my anxieties. I would tell her how I felt yesterday: I was so desperately depressed that I cried. I felt I was faced with two possibilities: to seek personal happiness and shut my eyes to all faults in my surroundings, or else to invest my efforts in the difficult and devastating war for the things I deem good and proper.
But I don't think the decision is up to me. I feel that hidden traits within me will determine my course, even though all the hardship and suffering it will entail are clear to me. But I wonder whether I have the strength and the ability to achieve what I want. I also wonder if what I want will be the right thing?
Dear God, if You've kindled a fire in my heart, allow me to burn that which should be burned in my house - the House of Israel. And as You've given me an all-seeing eye, and an all-hearing ear, give me, as well, the strength to scourge, to caress, to uplift. And grant that these words be not empty phrases but a credo for my life. Toward what am I aiming? Toward all that which is best in the world, and of which there is a spark within me.
Hannah Senesh: Her Life and Diary
[Hannah Senesh was taken as a prisoner in Hungary and executed on November 7, 1944]
Baruch Ata Adonai Elo-hei-nu me-lech ha-olam a-sher ke-d-sha-nu b- mitz-vo-tav, v-tzi-va-nu al s-fi-rat ha-omer.
Praised be you Adonai our God who rules the Universe instilling within us the holiness of mitzvot by commanding us to count the Omer.
Today is the thirteenth day of the Omer.