By Leah Garber
Today, following 4,118 days of suffering, pain, frustration, and unwavering hope, a circle has finally closed. Second Lieutenant Hadar Goldin, of blessed memory, has been laid to rest in the land he loved, in Israeli soil that has waited so long to embrace him.
As I helped the Goldin family share Hadar’s story and art with JCCs, I have been privileged to get to know Leah and Simcha, Hadar’s parents, and the remarkable family whose love refused to surrender, who carried the weight of an impossible struggle to bring their son home. Hadar, an IDF soldier, was kidnapped to Gaza during what should have been a ceasefire between Israel and Hamas in Operation Protective Edge, in the summer of 2014.
August 1, 2014, became etched in memory as the most harrowing day of that operation. A reconnaissance force from the Givati Brigade was searching for terror tunnels when, at 9:16 a.m., Hamas shattered the truce with gunfire. In those brutal minutes, Hadar Goldin fell, and his body was dragged into the darkness of those very tunnels.
More than 11 years of relentless struggle—international appeals, tireless campaigns, pleas to world leaders—all converged into one sacred moment when Hadar’s coffin finally crossed back into Israel. Officers who had served alongside him stood waiting at the Gaza border crossing, the first to salute their brother in arms upon his return home. Those same officers had built entire lives in these 11 years—marriages, children, unfolding careers—while Hadar remained forever young, an IDF soldier held captive by those who refused, year after year, to return him.
Hadar was a gifted artist, a painter blessed with an extraordinary ability to capture on canvas the brushstrokes of life’s joy, innocence, and purity. But he was also, despite his young age, an educator at heart who left behind writings filled with reflection, wisdom, and profound insight. Like so many Israeli teenagers, Hadar traveled with his class to Poland, to the death camps—a journey into darkness that forever shapes the Jewish and Zionist identity of those who walk through history’s most painful corridors.
From Poland, Hadar wrote home:
“Mom and Dad, I am sitting in a deportation rail car in Poland, in the corner. I don’t know how many children like me and people similar and different from me passed through here—and all of them Jews, who were torn from their homes, from their families, from their parents and children, and did not know where they were being sent or where they were going. But I want to tell you that thanks to you, I know where I am going. I am going to the State of Israel. My state and ours. And I understand, thanks to you, what my state gives me, but mainly—what I need to give of myself to the state. And when I look inside myself, I know that I have the strength to give above and beyond.”
Those words, written by a young man who understood the sacred covenant between a people and their homeland, echo with unbearable poignancy today.
I write these words from Palo Alto, California, from the Oshman Family JCC, where we are marking the 11th Zionism 3.0 conference (Z3)
JCC Association President and CEO Barak Hermann at the Z3 conference
In a hall filled to capacity with 1,500 participants, we recited the Shehecheyanu blessing together—thanking God for bringing us to this moment of Hadar’s return. Then we wiped away tears as Jon and Rachel Goldberg-Polin, Hersh’s parents, spoke with awe-inspiring courage about loss, finding ways to cope, and a faith in God that has only deepened through their unimaginable pain.
Hadar, Hersh, and the countless others who have fallen defending Israel across the decades have woven together a tapestry of breathtaking beauty—a social mosaic formed from religious and secular, right and left, Jews and people of other faiths, native-born Israelis and new immigrants. All of them—bound by something stronger than any disagreement, more steadfast than any debate—gave their lives so that we could live in freedom. A typical army unit includes Israel’s finest soldiers standing together, never questioning the politics or background of the brother beside them. All are simply “my brother,” all trusted completely, and for each, they are willing to make the ultimate sacrifice. This unity, too, despite varied backgrounds, beliefs, and political opinions, is the everyday in JCC lobbies across the continent—and one of the true gems of the JCC Movement.
At the conclusion of the Z3 conference, rabbis representing all streams of Judaism stood together on stage and offered a unified prayer for the peace of the State of Israel, for its soldiers, and for the four fallen hostages who remain in Gaza. In a deeply moving rendition of “Hatikvah,” Israel’s national anthem, those rabbis embodied a foundational principle of Z3: unity, not uniformity. Mutual respect. The understanding that we are strongest when we honor our differences while standing together in pride for the values we share.
Welcome home, Hadar. We have been waiting for you for 4,118 impossibly long days. In the years since you were taken, babies have been born, lives have been lived, couples have fallen in love, battles have been fought, and more soldiers have fallen. But your eternal smile has been shining through all this time. Your beautiful family never let go. And today, an entire nation bows its head to you in gratitude for your courage, as thousands pay their respects at your funeral. We also bow in gratitude to your parents, Simcha and Leah, and your siblings—Ayelet, Menachem, and your twin brother Tzur—for their 4,118 days of unwavering struggle to bring you to the eternal rest you so richly deserve, in the land you so deeply loved, and to keep reminding us of the values upon which this country has been built.
May we prove worthy of your sacrifice, Hadar. May your radiant smile light our path toward becoming a better people, a more united nation, and may your memory be a blessing that guides us forward.
Rest now, dear Hadar. You are finally home.
Leah Garber is a senior vice president of JCC Association of North America and director of its Center for Israel Engagement in Jerusalem.
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