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Israel is a nation built on solidarity – the idea that no one stands alone and that we have a responsibility that goes beyond the norm.
By YAAKOV KATZ FEBRUARY 28, 2025 09:34
IDF soldiers salute as the motorcade carrying the bodies of Shiri, Ariel and Kfir Bibas travels on Route 232 in the South, on the way to Tsoher Regional Cemetery on Wednesday. This is the reality we live in: Even in our greatest pain, we strive to stand together, says the writer.
(photo credit: Chaim Goldberg/Flash90)
Israel is a special country. This was painfully clear on Wednesday when tens of thousands of people flooded the streets, united in grief, to accompany the funeral procession of the Bibas family – Shiri, the mother, and her two angelic, red-haired children, Ariel and Kfir.
In this moment of national tragedy, Israel showed once again how, in its darkest hours – and amid the most troubling of times and greatest trials and when our hearts are shattered – we come together. We stand as one; we stand united.
It was an example of the unique DNA that makes us Israeli. We fight; we argue. We passionately disagree about the future of this country. But we also understand a harsh reality – our enemies don’t care if we wear a kippah or not, whether that kippah is knitted or velvet, whether we served in the IDF or didn’t, or whether we vote Right or Left. To them, we are all the same.
The threats against us are immense. And as we’ve seen over the last 16 months – and even before that – when we willingly divide ourselves, we invite disaster. If we allow it, it will happen. If we don’t, it won’t. Sometimes it really is that simple.
The image of Shiri, wrapping her sons in a blanket, holding them close as they were torn away to Gaza and then murdered by Hamas terrorists, is etched in our national consciousness.
It is a symbol of the nightmare we have faced since that dark day. It is also a symbol of the catastrophic failure that occurred on October 7, and how we find ourselves still trapped in this painful reality – many months later, with more casualties, more suffering.
Their loss is a reminder of our pain – and it is also a reminder of the urgency to bring back the remaining hostages in Gaza. Time is not on their side, and if they are not returned soon, they could be lost forever.
An image affecting the nation
THERE ISN’T a single mother who looked at the fear in Shiri’s face from the iconic image on the day of her abduction and did not shudder at the thought of experiencing such horror.
There isn’t a single father who listened to Yarden’s breaking voice over the open grave for his loved ones and didn’t tremble at the thought of enduring such agony.
This is the reality we live in. It is heartbreaking and sometimes beyond comprehension, but it is also the source of our strength. Even in the hour of our deepest sorrow, we strive to find unity. Even in our greatest pain, we strive to stand together.
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At least most of us do. For some reason, some of the people in the Knesset can’t seem to find compassion even at times like this. Last week, for example, just a day before the Bibas family was returned to Israel and when the entire country knew that the bodies were coming, Communications Minister Shlomo Karhi decided it was the right time to blast the kibbutz movement.
“When did you ever suffer from the high cost of living in the kibbutzim?” he asked during a hearing in the Knesset on the significant rise in cost of living in Israel. “After all, you grew up with a silver spoon in your mouth. Someone who grew up with a silver spoon in their mouth can never know the taste of hunger and cannot raise the flag of the cost of living.”
TO SAY this any day is insulting, but to say it the day before bodies of members of Kibbutz Nir Oz are returned to Israel after being murdered in captivity shows a level of disconnect that unfortunately has become too acceptable in today’s political landscape.
This disconnect was felt when the coffins were returned to Israel the next day, draped in flags and received by the IDF chief rabbi and a contingent of uniformed officers. It was a moving scene yet it forced the question – where were the public officials? Where was the political echelon taking responsibility?
In the United States, for example, when soldiers fall in battle overseas, their return home is marked by a solemn ritual known as a “dignified transfer” at Dover Air Force Base, traditionally attended by the president or the vice president. They are there because leadership demands it.
They sent the soldiers to battle and now they honor them when they return, never again to fight another battle.
Where are Israel's leaders?
Why have we not seen Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu at any of these events? Why wasn’t President Isaac Herzog there? Where was Defense Minister Israel Katz? Where was anyone from the Israeli government?
The Bibas family and Oded Lifshitz were not soldiers; they were Israeli citizens whose lives were stolen in the most horrific of ways. Their government failed to protect them, and yet, no one came to show respect upon their tragic return.
It is easy to celebrate when living hostages return home and when their families are overwhelmed with joy. It is easy to bask in a happy ending. But true leadership is not just about the good times. It is also about showing up even when the news is devastating, and when you, the politician, will get yelled at – and maybe even blamed for it.
Israel is a nation built on solidarity – the idea that no one stands alone and that we have a responsibility that goes beyond the norm.
Real leaders understand that responsibility means facing the consequences head on. It means standing in front of grieving families and saying: “We failed, but we are here.”
The writer is a co-author of a forthcoming book, While Israel Slept, a senior fellow at the Jewish People Policy Institute, and a former editor-in-chief of The Jerusalem Post.
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