There are neshamos whose journeys stretch beyond the ordinary boundaries of time, neshamos that shine even as the body weakens, neshamos that rise higher even as the world pulls down.
Goli was such a neshama.
Her name hints
to her mission. Goli, from the same root as gimel-lamed-hay – to reveal. As we plead in davening, Galeh kvod malchuscha aleinu, reveal the
glory of Your Kingdom upon us. In her quiet, steady way, Goli revealed the
hidden greatness and power of a Yiddishe neshama. She showed that true
strength lies in spirit, that the glory of Hashem’s Malchus can be seen
in a radiant heart anchored in unwavering faith.
Goli’s story
cannot be measured by hardship alone. She wouldn’t want it to be. Rather,
it’s a story of aliyah, a life where the physical grew smaller and the neshama
grew stronger and brighter, filling every corner of her world and every
heart that entered it.
Goli’s journey
began with bravery. Mountains blocked her path, yet she climbed them, injured
and hurting, carried forward by a neshama that could not be stilled.
Later, when illness wrapped around her body, the true climb began. As her body
gave way, her heart and her neshama expanded – in hard-to-believe
ways.
The weakening of
Goli’s limbs uncovered a deeper force, a strength of spirit and a hope shaped
by an emunah that could not be broken. Each passing day, her neshama blazed
stronger, teaching that power is measured not by motion but by resilience, not
by voice but by the silent song of a heart tethered to the Borei Olam (the Creator).
Her world grew
physically smaller, but spiritually it expanded. Within the modest walls of her
room, holiness took root. The air carried the melodies of Shabbos. Sefarim
lined the walls. Visitors came burdened and left lighter, steadier, blessed.
Goli became the living embodiment of the Beis Hamikdash, a Kosel Maaravi,
thereby revealing that there is strength in softness and grandeur within
simplicity.
On Purim, Goli
dressed as a queen, her garments bright with joy, though her true crown rested
on her neshama, polished by perseverance and glowing from within. On
ordinary days, she reigned with a simple smile, the kind that reached into
broken hearts and lifted what life had crushed.
Her body
remained still. Yet her neshama soared. Higher. And then, even
higher.
As her physical
strength diminished, her spiritual strength grew vast enough to carry others.
Goli listened with attentiveness that few possess. She remembered what others
overlooked. She celebrated others’ simchos as her own and carried their
sorrows tenderly.
Nothing escaped
Goli’s eyes. A fallen ribbon became a solution for a sefer that needed
to stay open. A bird’s flight became a song of gratitude. A simple kindness
became a treasure. Goli revealed that, when seen through the lens of emunah,
every moment holds meaning and purpose.
Those who knew
Goli understood the power of her tefillos. Names were whispered to her.
She closed her eyes, and the room filled with a presence so real it could be
felt. Goli’s tefilos rose from a place of such purity that no barriers
separated her from her Creator. She taught that tefilah is not only a
request but a revelation, galeh kvod
malchuscha aleinu, an unfolding of hidden light. Her prayers soared because
her neshama lived between heaven and earth. And people were drawn to
that. To her.
Goli lived 49
years, the gematria of lev tov, a good heart. If there ever was
a life that embodied a good heart, it was Goli’s. A heart that rejoiced in
others’ triumphs. A heart that mourned with others’ pain. A heart that expanded
into kindness and simchah again and again.
She noticed
people deeply. She remembered birthdays, milestones, and small victories others
had long forgotten. She treated every visitor as royalty, because to Goli, each
individual carried infinite dignity.
Chazal
teach that Moshe Rabbeinu was an ish tzurah, a being whose body existed
to serve his neshama. His physical frame mattered only because it
contained something limitless. Because Moshe’s neshama climbed so high,
words became too small to contain the truth within him. He became kaved peh, ??? ??, heavy of speech, not because of weakness
but because his neshama had outgrown human language.
This, too, was
Goli. As Goli’s neshama soared, speech slowly faded. The vibrant voice
that once taught and laughed grew quiet, because language could no longer carry
the vastness of her world.
Yet her silence
spoke volumes. Her gaze, her smile, her presence became the song through which
her neshama continued to bless and to lift. Her physical frame grew
almost translucent, leaving only the brilliant glow of her inner being shining
through.
And that light
touched every heart privileged to stand before it.
Those who cared
for Goli most deeply, those who stood by her side day after day, became her talmidos.
In their devotion, their patience, and their unyielding respect, they, too, revealed
the Malchus of Hashem. They learned through Goli how to love with no
conditions, how to see the Divine image even when the body is frail. Through
their care, the hidden glory of Hashem’s world was uncovered anew each day, a
living galeh kvod malchuscha.
When a tzadeikes
like Goli leaves This World, her light does not vanish. It weaves itself into
the very air around us. Goli lives on in every whispered tefilah said
with a full heart, in every act of kindness offered without applause, in every
decision to live with gratitude and appreciation. In every moment of
acceptance of Hashem’s plan.
Goli discovered
true greatness hiding in the folds of daily life.
She revealed
that holiness shines brightest when least expected.
She taught that
the neshama soars far beyond what the eye can see.
Again and again,
Goli revealed the glory of Hashem’s Malchus, through her living, through
her loving, through her perseverance.
Those who knew
Goli still hear her melody, a melody woven of strength, sweetness, and an
unbreakable bond with the Ribono shel Olam.
Goli taught us
how to live.
Goli taught us
how to believe.
Goli taught us
how to reveal, to bring forth the hidden greatness tucked inside every neshama.
A gal means a wave, as in galei hayam, the waves of the sea.
Goli’s circle of
life has closed.
But the ripples
of Goli’s holy waves will never fade.
