Day 424: Iron Swords War

By Leah Garber

Between Hope and Despair: Three Life Stories from Israel’s Impossible Reality

On day 424 of the war, we learned of the passing of Gladys, mother of hostage Keith Siegel, who has been held in Gaza’s darkness since October 7. At a young age, Keith visited Israel, where he met his wife-to-be, Aviva. The two fell in love, which led Keith to move to Israel and marry Aviva. Seeking a young kibbutz filled with families and children, they found their ideal home in Kfar Aza, where they built their life and raised their family over the next 40 years.

On the morning of October 7, Aviva and Keith awoke to Hamas’s terror attack. After four hours of helplessness and confusion, they were brutally kidnapped when Hamas militants violently breached their home.

Aviva was released as part of the prisoner exchange in November 2023. Upon her release, she revealed that during their kidnapping, Hamas militants shot Keith’s hand and forcefully threw him to the ground, breaking his ribs—injuries that left him suffering for weeks without medical care.

Keith’s 97-year-old mother, Gladys, lived in an assisted-living facility in North Carolina, where family and staff carefully shielded her from the knowledge that her youngest son was being held hostage in Gaza.

Keith remains unaware of his mother’s passing. He cannot accompany her on her final journey, sit shiva, or mourn. He cannot thank her for raising him or bid her farewell. While he remains in physical and mental darkness, his family mourns his mother’s passing and continues to wait for his return.

 

Yesterday, the IDF announced that Captain Omer Maxim Neutra, held hostage in Gaza since October 7, has been declared a fallen soldier whose burial place is unknown. Growing up in Plainview, New York, on Long Island, he was a cherished member of the Mid Island Y JCC community and a New York Knicks fan. A talented athlete, Omer was captain of his high school’s basketball, volleyball, and soccer teams. After spending a gap year in Israel in 2020, he postponed his studies at Binghamton University to join the IDF. A lone soldier, he served as a tank platoon commander in the 7th Armored Brigade on the Gaza border.

Omer’s parents, Orna and Ronen, moved heaven and earth to beg for his release, meeting with various world leaders, including President Biden. The uncertainty of Omer’s condition and fate while in captivity was unbearable. Hope sustained them in their fight for his freedom—until yesterday, when military representatives delivered the devastating news that Omer had been killed on that Black Shabbat, 423 days ago.

Upon learning of his death, his parents wrote:

Our beloved Omer made aliyah out of pure love for Israel and deep commitment to the Jewish people. On Simchat Torah morning, he and his crew were first in the line of fire, alone in a malfunctioning tank, defending Israel’s borders with their bodies. They fought until the end. For 423 days, we waited for our leaders to rise to the occasion for Israel and the hostages, just as our beloved Omer did through his actions… In our worst nightmares, we never imagined fighting for the values we taught Omer—the sanctity of life and mutual responsibility—that led him to make aliyah and enlist. Today’s pain is unbearable. The grief is heavy. Words and time have run out, and words alone cannot console.”

Can anyone truly imagine the reality of parents who, for 423 days, tirelessly traveled across continents, trying to influence anyone who might help bring their son home, and then, when finally resting in bed, having their nights haunted by dreams of reuniting with their son and that first embrace intermingled with nightmares about his fate, his suffering, and the cruel reality of his captivity?

In those endless nights, hope and despair waged war in their consciousness. Every day brought the possibility of both salvation and the weight of another 24 hours of uncertainty.

Omer’s parents lived in a suspended reality in which time simultaneously stood still and rushed forward. Every moment was critical, both an opportunity and a torment, all while they carried the unbearable weight of imagining their beloved son’s suffering.

Among the 101 hostages held in Gaza, 37 have been declared dead. Growing fears suggest the death toll may be higher, and with each passing day, the surviving hostages’ lifeline grows shorter.

Oscillating between despair and hope is the reality for hostages’ families and for families of the wounded, who fight daily to heal, rehabilitate, and return to life.

Six months before the black Shabbat on October 7, Staff Sergeant Yona Bezalel Brief, a combat medic in an elite commando unit, was wounded by an explosive device thrown by terrorists during an operational activity. After a long rehabilitation, Yona was directed to a rear position that would allow him to complete his service peacefully. But Yona wasn’t looking for comfort or concessions. Driven by purpose, he wanted to protect his people and his homeland, and he insisted on returning to combat.

The Shabbat of October 7 was his first weekend back on the base after recovering from his injury. Together with his unit comrades, Yona fought valiantly against Hamas terrorists who had infiltrated Kibbutz Kfar Aza, displaying supreme heroism for hours. As a medic, Yona heard his wounded comrades’ calls during battle, and while treating them under fire, he himself was wounded. Although hit by 13 bullets—in his head, back, and both legs and arms—he shielded a wounded friend with his own body and continued fighting and treating his comrades and himself. He applied at least two tourniquets to his own injuries before being evacuated to a hospital hours later.

Doctors quickly realized there was no hope of recovery, and he would not survive. But they were wrong. Yona survived for 417 days in intensive care. During this time both his legs were amputated, he received about 200 blood transfusions, and underwent approximately 20 different surgeries. Experts from around the world were flown to Israel for consultation, and special medications were imported.

Yona, connected to endless tubes, monitors, and machines, quickly became an exemplar of spiritual strength. Around his bed, a community of visitors formed. Initially, they came with great doubt but, thanks to Yona himself, they became believers— believers in miracles, clinging to hope. At times Yona was conscious, doing exercises in bed. As a music lover, he would sing along softly with the many musicians who came to visit him, the war’s most severely wounded soldier who refused to give up. The miraculous struggle of this seemingly immortal man aroused awe and admiration among the medical staff. A real-life Superman.

Yona’s parents, David and Hazel, moved to Israel from the U.S. driven by Zionist ideals. Yona was the youngest of their six children, the only sabra. For 14 months, this beautiful family made its home in Room 11 of Sheba Medical Center’s intensive care unit, managing their battle for Yona’s life from there. They watched the medical indicators tearfully, encouraged by every slight improvement, trembling at every deterioration. There they hoped, along with so many others, that he would do the impossible and live. For 417 days, the Brief family swayed between despair and hope, holding onto their son’s bravery, encouraged by his determination and his noble spirit. Not for a moment did they think they would return home empty-handed, without Yona.

Last Tuesday, one of Israel’s heroes, Yona Brief, took his last breath. Even Superman needs to rest. At the funeral, his mother said that the night after her son’s death was the first she had slept in her own bed since October 7. “I went to the kitchen and had to try to remember how to operate the coffee machine.

Yona, an exemplar of the human spirit, of all that is good, worthy, and moral in Israeli society; Omer Neutra a model of Zionism, sacrifice and love of homeland; and Keith who continues to be held captive in Gaza although throughout his life he and his wife, Aviva, strived for coexistence and believed in peace. Yona and Omer and Keith are the reason we fight, and do so with determination. Thanks to them and what they have taught us, even in moments of bitter despair, we won’t lose hope. But God knows, that is so hard.

Together, united, we will overcome.

Leah Garber is a senior vice president of JCC Association of North America and director of its Center for Israel Engagement in Jerusalem.