The Best and Worst of Israel

Today I experienced the worst of Israel.

The worst part of life in Israel is knowing children murdered by terrorists.

At the Otniel Yeshiva on Friday night, December 27, 2002, 18-year-old Zvika Ziman, was doing a favor for a friend. This would be Zvika's final favor.

Zvika agreed to do kitchen duty so his friend, who had kitchen duty, could go home for the weekend to see the movie Lord of the Rings.

In the kitchen of the Otniel Yeshiva, Zvika and three other boys - Gabriel (17), Yehuda (20), and Noam (23) - were preparing to serve the first course of the Sabbath meal.

Next to the kitchen, in the adjacent dining room, the Yeshiva boys, who had just returned from Shabbat prayers, were dancing and singing.

Outside the kitchen, two terrorists, members of the Islamic Jihad organization, were wearing IDF army uniforms and toting M 16's, 12 rounds of ammunition, and ten hand grenades. One terrorist entered the kitchen, attacked the unarmed and unsuspecting boys in the kitchen, and murdered them in cold blood.

Today I experienced the best of Israel.

The terrorists did not succeed to injure and kill over a hundred of boys in the dining room due to the heroic act of one of the boys in the kitchen, Noam Apter. Under fire, Noam ran towards the door separating the kitchen from the dining room, locked it with the key, and then hid the key. By locking himself in with the terrorist, he succeeded to protect his friends and fellow students from the terrorist attack.

Today I experienced the worst of Israel.

As friends of the Ziman family, I attended Zvika's funeral. The worst part of life in Israel is the relentless, bottomless pit of grief felt by hundreds of people as they prepare to bury an 18-year-old who was good, giving, loving, bright, and capable.

On my way to the funeral, I drove past the Otniel rabbis who were attending the third of four funerals in 24 hours.

At the funeral, I stood behind hundreds of lanky teenage boys who hugged each other, hung onto each other, and sobbed out loud as they said good-bye forever to their friend Zvika.

After the funeral, I came home to my own mourning 12-year-old daughter. Zvika had been her Bnai Akiva counselor for two years. I had no answers for all her "why" questions; There was no way to help her understand the un-understandable. All I could do was hold her while she cried.

Today I experienced the best of Israel.

Despite the awesome grief felt by those at Zvika's funeral and by all those in Israel who have attended the other 600+ funerals of terrorist victims in the last 30 months, there was no despair.

Zvika's father, Uzi, spoke and sang about his steadfast faith in God. Zvika's mother, Ruti, and five siblings showed great strength. Zvika's friends displayed heart-felt love. And the community showered the mourning family and friends with unwavering support.

This tenacity comes from living in Israel. This will to survive has been inherited from hundreds of generations of Jews who also fought for their survival on this very same land. Via education, family-life, community-life, and the land itself, Israelis learn to value life. They celebrate each lifecycle event to the fullest, they mourn each loss of life to the deepest, and they protect each other's lives to the very best of their abilities.

Only in Israel can you leave the funeral of a boy murdered by a terrorist and feel, in part, uplifted and hopeful due to having been surrounded by hundreds of Israelis who are armed with great inner strength and a tenacious will to survive.

~ Lisa Katz

More Articles