It’s called a ceasefire, yet these past few “ceasefire” weeks have been devastating. More young beautiful soldiers with their whole lives ahead of them, serving in Lebanon, fighting Iran- sponsored Hezbollah terrorists, in order to secure Israel, now dead.
It’s gut wrenching. And maddening. I want to scream from the depths of my belly. Stooooop.
Face after sweet youthful face. Name after name. You look, and read, and weep.
One of the death notices of a soldier was an accidental death. It was a new type of weapon operated differently, and accidentally, a bullet was discharged. A commander’s weapon fired unintentionally. He killed his own soldier.
As if there isn’t enough pain and loss of life as a result of the war that Hezbollah launched, now came a twist of the knife.
Since Oct. 7, there have been so many moments where you just feel stunned.
Stunned by the nobility of character of Israelis around you.
Of Israelis who have made choices that are staggeringly beautiful and compassionate and truly transcendent, in the selflessness they demanded.
An example:
A father, a rabbi, whose son was betrothed at the time he fell in battle on Oct. 7, later, as a bereaved father, served as the officiant at his dead son’s fiancee’s chuppah, as she married a different young man.
This, knowing he would never have the blessing of walking his own child to the chuppah canopy.
These are emotionally superhuman moments.
Amidst the darkness there are sparks — people — who become beacons of light.
Can you imagine the torment of the soldier whose gun went off and killed an innocent soldier? And one he knew well? Plus the possibility of criminal charges?
Can you imagine the profound heartache of the dead soldier’s family, knowing his death was for no reason?
Well, this bereaved father, this giant of a soul, has spoken up. From the moment of this tragic incident, the bereaved father was deeply concerned with the psychological state of the commander who accidentally killed his son. He went on to make a public statement along the following lines:
“Our family already paid in blood. Leave the commander alone. Let us not bury two soldiers. My son — we already buried. There’s no reason the commander should live half-dead. He’ll be tormented and punished enough the rest of his life. Drop criminal charges. By all means, analyze and review this heartbreaking incident thoroughly, drawing conclusions for the future from this military post mortem. But don’t criminally charge. Return this soldier to operational military activity.”
This bereaved father went on to thank this soldier for his service.
Behind the scenes, the commander’s father investigated whether it would be appropriate for him to pay a condolence shiva visit to the family grieving for their dead son and brother — dead by accident at the hand of his son.
The reply: yes. The father of the commander may come.
When this broken father navigating the pain of his own son’s accidental killing arrived, the two fathers embraced.
The bereaved father said: The soldiers are all of our children.
The commander’s father shared the depths of his own son’s crushing pain and torment.
This, too, is part of the face of war that our enemies wage against us. Unexpected collisions that shatter so much. For so many.
We had already witnessed the transcendent nobility of Iris Haim, whose hostage son, trying to escape from Gaza, was accidentally shot to death by an IDF soldier.
This week we bore witness to David Ya’ari’s selfless and transcendent nobility of character. This bereaved father has gone so far as saying that he plans on attending the hearing of the commander who accidentally shot his son. Ya’ari plans on advocating for his release.
Encountering people and moments such as these; parents so unnaturally noble, who choose to transcend their own agony, who have the capacity and fortitude, in their most profound sorrow, to go beyond themselves, truly this is humbling.
The lessons the military will need to glean by analyzing this tragic incident will be theirs, so as to ensure this horrific situation is never, ever repeated.
Then there’s the rest of us. With lessons we imbibe here daily, just by being part of the tapestry in Israel, just by hearing the news, and encountering towering personas such as this bereaved father.
Two fathers. Strangers. Both with young, draft-age sons. Soldiers. Side by side. Brothers in arms. Now, the two fathers’ paths converge, too.
One father, bereaved, buried his son in the ground. The other father, his son an accidental killer, be-shogeg.
The bereaved father taking a stand to protect his son’s commander and accidental killer.
For as he said, the chayalim, the soldiers, they are all of our children.
© IJN 2026
