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Mourning the victims of Kibbutz Be'eri Tahel Bira Life Story Family and friends share their stories Tahel, the princess of the house, the youngest daughter, grew up to be a leader, opinionated, full of humor and joie de vivre. Like her sister, she was attached to the family: she adored daddy, hugged mummy and looked up to her older sister and brother. Her friends describe her as the one who solved problems for them - the "psychologist" with whom they often consulted about matters of the world and matters of the heart. Together with her good friends, she loved to wander the paths of the kibbutz in search of benches where they could sit for a long while and have soulful conversations, or of places to sit outside the kibbutz, places from where the sunset could be seen. Tahel was a very funny and very serious girl. A cool girl. She loved vintage and oversized clothes. Leaned towards humanities and chose a major in psychology. She had just started guiding in the Working and Learning Youth movement, and she really liked that too. 16-year-old Tahel and 23-year-old Tair were so young when they were killed. They hadn't had time yet to put together any resumes, to realize some of the great loves that their abundant hearts hoped for. They just stood on the starting line, filled with the future, when their lives were cut down. Adolescence is characterized by the need to be aloof and move away from our parents so that you can grow wings. It is often accompanied by taking distance from our parents and by slamming doors. But that's not how the three children in the Bira family behaved. Everyone who was close to the family knew about the special relationship, knew that each of the family members preferred to be with the family, the family always came first. Five people and one dog, Poncho (who was with the family for twelve years and was also murdered), who were bound together and always with each other. They made sure to have meals together, take trips together, they shared a language and a sense of humor. A family of all for one, and one for all. And now only one is left. Three months before the sky fell, Yasmin and Oron went to Portugal. Missing their children pushed them to make a statement: they went into a local tattoo shop and asked for a joint tattoo. When they finished, they sent the photo to the children. On their outstretched arms the children could read their names engraved on the skin: Tair, Yahav, Tahel. On Friday, October 6, 2023, the family went out to a restaurant and a movie. Yahav's girlfriend also joined. When they parted, Yasmin and Oron and the two girls headed home, while Yahav and his girlfriend headed to his apartment in the kibbutz. On Saturday, at 10:58 the last sign of life was heard. Tair called Yahav from the Mamad (residential secure place). Screams, gunshots, silence, and words in Arabic were heard through the phone. After eleven days, all their bodies were identified in an area near the kibbutz. The poet Rachel wrote in a poem called Metay (my dead ones) about the living dead, "The dead in whom death will never stick its sharp knife." She also wrote to Yahav from the distance of the years: "They are the only ones left to me, solely, in them only, death will not stick its sharp knife. At the turn of the road, at the dawn of day, I will be surrounded by silence, stillness will keep me company. She is a true covenant for us, an inseparable bond, only what is lost to me is my asset forever”. Yahav is left with a great asset. May Tahel’s memory be blessed. Back 19.10.2007 - 07.10.2023 15 years old

Mourning the victims of Kibbutz Be'eri Amir Weiss Life Story Family and friends share their stories Matti and Amir. Amir and Matti. Both were born in February 1954. Matti was born in Holon to Zizi and Marco Altras who came to Israel from Morocco. Amir was born in kibbutz Hefziba, the son of Mira and Avri Weiss. Matti lived with her family in a one-room apartment in a neighborhood built for new immigrants. She was 16 when her brother Avi was born, and the family moved to Eilat. She served as an operations sergeant in Sharm-a-Shiekh and spent the Yom Kippur War in a bunker in the mountains over the town. After the war she and her army friends traveled around the Sinai mountains. After the army, she worked as a ground hostess at Eilat airport, where she met Amir. Amir was Mira and Avri’s second child. Their families had come to Israel from Romania and Hungary. Their firstborn son died in infancy. Amir and his younger brother, Raviv, lost their mother to cancer. Avri remarried when Amir was 12, and the family moved to Holon, where Asnat and Ilan, his two half-siblings, were born. Amir loved kibbutz life and the views of Mount Gilboa. When he was in school on the kibbutz he learned to play the cello. He went to the Thelma Yellin High School of Art and Music where he played cello and double bass. He served as an officer in the quartermaster corps, and following his discharge from the military, as a security guard for Arkia Airlines in Eilat. That is where he met Matti, who eventually proposed to him. Amir refused, and a week later, on the beach, proposed to her. Their wedding was a modest one, in the Holon rabbinate building. They became inseparable. They settled in Eilat, where their twins, Ran and Michal were born. They next moved to kibbutz Ramat Rachel, birthplace of their son Yuval. Three years later, they looked for a different kibbutz, and were offered a small, temporary apartment in Be’eri. They moved there, waiting for the larger apartment to be built. They settled in Be’eri in 1985, and their son Oren was born there. Matti’s childhood dream was to be a teacher. The games she loved playing with her friends were that she was the teacher and they – her pupils. She made her dream come true. She received her B.Ed., and then got her M.A. in educational-systems management. She began as a teacher in Be’eri, and later established and ran a private school, Nofim, on the kibbutz. Nofim espoused the values of farming and agriculture. Matti was one of the first to work outside of Be’eri. She worked for the Branco Weiss Education System, developing pedagogical content and managing educational programs all around the country. She then moved to the Rashi Foundation and became part of the Katzir Foundation, which provides scholarships for students. She then continued to guidance, personal counseling, and coaching for school principals. She continued energetically after her retirement, working for the community-art program at Sapir College. There, too, she did an outstanding job. Matti was a natural leader. Wherever life took her she was an enterprising trailblazer, a significant figure who, with great ability, managed people and teams. Amir, who from a young age loved wide open spaces and nature, found his destiny in agriculture, especially field crops, which he managed for many years. His children say that “Our best childhood memories are being with Abba on the tractor, working in the peanut and cotton plantation and the carrot fields.” He expressed his musical talent by singing in all kibbutz ceremonies, most notably Omer, Omer which he sang every year on the day of the first harvest, one day before the Passover seder, when the farmers harvested the first stalks of grain. When he left the field crops, Amir went to Rupin College to study business administration. He then joined the Be’eri printing plant, where, for many years, he was manager of the warehouse and the logistics center. He continued working there and volunteering, even after his retirement. Matti and Amir got to share a great love. Despite their differences – he was quiet and introverted; she was active and energetic – they complemented each other and did everything together. They both loved Israeli songs, and Amir also loved classical music. They both loved being close to nature, the landscapes, the vastness of the Negev. Their children’s clearest memory is the “anemone picnic.” Every February, when they celebrated their birthdays, they’d go out with their children and grandchildren to the wildflower fields around the kibbutz and enjoy a family picnic. Their daughter Michal said, “It was more important to them than anything else.” Nothing was dearer to them than family. “They were involved, protective parents,” their children said. “They were always there for us, and we always knew we could count on them. We could call them from any place in the country, any time, and Abba would come to pick us up from a dark road or a faraway army base. Our parents’ life objective was to have a strong, united family. It was they who brought us all back to live in Be’eri.” Amir and Matti had ten grandchildren. They were devoted grandparents, happy to care for the grandchildren, who felt that their grandparents’ house was their second home. They devoted their time and energy to the grandchildren and had a close and special relationship with each one. After they retired a few years ago, they traveled the world. These were their best years. They devoured life – they wanted to see everything. They planned to travel, to see, to experience. They had many dreams, all of which were brutally severed. When the attack on Be’eri began on October 7, 2023, Matti and Amir locked themselves at home, as did all residents of Be’eri. They were injured and knew they would not make it. Their last words were words of great love to their children and grandchildren. “They went together,” their children say, “and if we can find comfort in anything, it is that they will not have to live without each other. They were the best of friends and they loved each other. Ima always said, ‘I don’t know what I’ll do without him.’” Amir and Matti. Matti and Amir. Loving and caring in life, they remained together in death. May their memory be a blessing. Back 08.02.1954 - 07.10.2023 69 years old

Mourning the victims of Kibbutz Be'eri Ablum Milles Life Story Family and friends share their stories Ablum was born to Fortuna and Maurice Milles in Cairo. He was an older brother to Izzy (Yitzhak), Erela (Arlette), Esther (Etti) and Leah (Lulu). At the age of six, his family joined the wave of illegal immigration to Israel. They sailed from Egypt to France, and from there, via Brindisi to Israel. After being put up for a long while in a transit camp in near Haifa, at Atlit, the family moved to the Aleph neighborhood of Beer Sheva. Ablum, nicknamed Barry in his youth, was an impish and agile boy who sought refuge from the rigid and austere upbringing in his parents' home. Freedom, for him, was to be found in the quirky adventures and pranks that he used to pull off with his younger brother, Izzy. He was independent and fearless and he loved to climb and improvise solutions out of the small treasures that nature provided. One day, he and Izzy found a stray donkey in a grove near the neighbourhood. They decided to ride it around, taking side trips and running errands throughout Beersheba. That adventure ended with arrest and a police file for each of them. Ablum knew that the return home would be costly. He protected his younger brother with his body, while Izzy and Erela also tried mightily to keep their older brother from their father's wrath. At the age of 14, Ablum left home, joined the Be'arot youth movement, and arrived at Kibbutz Be'eri. The group consisted of 40 members, of whom only 10 were girls, and the teachers were Tamar and Menucha. Ablum integrated into the fabric of social life on the kibbutz, and was known for his ability to fix things—from carpentry to plumbing. At any rate, the educational environment on the kibbutz emphasized learning for the purposes of work rather than learning for the sake of knowledge. Ablum fell in love with the kibbutz and accepted fully his new way of life. He distanced himself from the holy books of Jewish tradition and entrusted his mother with his tefillin so that she could return the ritual prayer straps to the synagogue. The members of Be'erot, Ablum included, enlisted in the airborne battalion of the Nahal Brigade and there he did his military service. During the Yom Kippur War, he was drafted into the reserves at an ordnance base; when he suddenly saw Hezi, a tank crew member, on his way to a unit in the north, Ablum announced he was joining. When he arrived at the unit, they told him he was too old, and Ablum replied: "If you don't accept me, I'll leave here with a tank!" Even the most heroic commander would have been forced to succumb, and Ablum became a gunner in the company commander’s tank. His friends remember his sense of humor, the pranks he pulled on the guys, and no less so, the order and organization that he instilled. Ablum was one of the few Be’erot members who returned to the kibbutz. During his lifetime he managed to work in an array of posts: in the chicken coop, the firefighting unit, the gardening crew, the dining room, as part of the home economics team, a dairy farmer, an electrician and a builder. For a time, he was also an organizer of the Shabbat and daily work schedules. He manned “the guillotine” at the printing press, and later was on the license printing and card production teams at the press. In 1968, he met Jean Dressler, a young volunteer from the United States who had come to Be'eri. A year later, they got married, and Shani, Gal and Niv, were born. After separating from Jean, Ablum started a family with Yona Fricker, with whom he had Sigal and Stav. Ablum inculcated in his children, including Aviv, Yona's daughter from her first marriage, a sense of independence and curiosity and a love of nature. The man who grew up in a harsh and hard reality showered his children with love. In December 1996, Niv was killed in a tragic accident at the tender age of 14. The tragedy deeply shook the entire family. Seized by longing, Ablum planted cyclamens in the grove of Be'eri’s cemetery, and would collect the seeds and germinate them in small pots, distributing them to members of the kibbutz. Many cyclamens still bloom in the members' gardens and around the kibbutz. Ablum nurtured the house and also built a basement on his own that continually expanded and became his private paradise. He loved his garden and his special collection of cacti, and invited everyone to watch the Queen of the Night cactus bloom one night each year. Ablum maintained an enviable routine of listening to music, watching movies, sports and heading out on forays into nature. He loved sitting on the balcony, listening on his famous radio to traditional Israeli songs, especially Yehoram Gaon, and to the Egyptian singer Umm Kulthum. He loved traveling around Israel and to places farther afield. He especially loved going to Sinai, and was like a family member to some of the Bedouin families in Tarabin. After Niv's death, he spent many a day in a tent on the Lighthouse Beach in Eilat. There he would dive, rest, recharge his batteries. Among family and friends, a new tradition was born: pilgrimages to go see Ablum in his tent. Ablum was colorblind. And so he surprised all with some rather unusual combinations: the house was painted yellow-and-blue, and the colors of his flowing trousers and bright hats were often a sight to behold. His taste buds, too, were unique: he added hot pepper to every meal. He always drank his coffee with cardamom and no sugar, because a good Egyptian does not sweeten coffee. He liked to dole out to his neighbours choice prickly pears and figs that he picked in orchards scattered among the distant fields. He taught his son Gal to cure olives, and the two won prizes in a series of local competitions. In November 2022, after contending with a serious illness, Gal passed away. Parting from his beloved son was unbearable to Ablum, though even in the face of this tragedy, he found solace in small joys: the quality time he spent with his grandchildren and daughters. He was a hardworking and humble do-it-yourself man, who loved the kibbutz with all his heart and wanted to build a home for his children, a better home than he himself had. He was murdered in his home, on the Black Saturday of October 7, 2023. In his safe room, on the pillow, was found a Book of Psalms. May his memory be a blessing. Back 14.08.1943 - 07.10.2023 80 years old

Mourning the victims of Kibbutz Be'eri Sahar Baruch Life Story Family and friends share their stories Sahar, son of Tami and Roni, was born on November 25, 1998, shortly after the family returned to Be'eri from a year-long sabbatical in the north, along with his older brother Guy. Later, his younger brothers, Idan and Niv, joined the family. The household was lively and full of energy, as is often the case with four brothers. They shared a close bond, as well as mutual interests and activities. Sahar was a quiet and curious child. He attended the "Shaked" (Almond) Kindergarten and was part of the "Ananas" (Pineapple) group on the kibbutz. His gentle nature allowed him to form close connections with the girls in his class. He had a wide range of interests, including judo, cycling, and music. He played both the organ and the trumpet well. Sahar had a rich inner world and a deep connection with his brothers. Together with Idan and Guy, he participated in the regional council’s kayaking club for many years. This club revealed another side of his personality: his adventurous spirit and leadership skills. It also provided an opportunity for the brothers to bond even further, and enjoy shared experiences. At school, Sahar excelled in the sciences. His hobbies included chess, Dungeons & Dragons, Magic Cards, and fantasy books, which he loved reading to his younger brothers to share his passion with them. He played chess frequently, took part in several competitions, and even won some. He also enjoyed playing chess online with people from around the world. During his teenage years, Sahar grew his hair long, which he donated when he cut it before joining the military. He enlisted in the Navy, serving as a mechanic on a missile boat. He successfully completed his training course; his friends often said that during their study sessions, though Sahar might have been relaxing, he would sit up suddenly, provide detailed and well-explained answers to their questions, and then go back to relaxing. His comrades admired his professionalism and knowledge and knew they could always rely on him, as he was dedicated and committed to his work. His service coincided with the COVID-19 pandemic, which meant long stays aboard the missile boat. Sahar participated in several voyages from Haifa Bay to Eilat via the Suez Canal—trips that left a lasting impression on him. When he was discharged during the second lockdown, his plans for post-service travel were altered, leading to a postponed trip to Japan, which remained an aspiration for the future. Upon his release from the military, Sahar returned to work in Be'eri. He initially worked as a tutor for elementary-school children, demonstrating dedication and seriousness. He managed to balance playful interactions with the children while maintaining his responsibilities as a mentor. His clear boundaries, combined with his sensitivity to the children, fostered deep and meaningful relationships, earning him the appreciation of the children, their parents, and the staff. He was a beloved tutor and continued in this role until the end of the school year, after which he worked at the local print shop. One of Sahar's greatest dreams was embarking on the "big trip," as so many post-military young adults did, and he approached it with his characteristic seriousness. In preparation, he set out on the Israel National Trail, where he met new people and faced challenges he had set for himself. After a brief period of rest, he left for a long trip to South America. Enthusiastically, he embarked on treks in the mountains and described to his family the breathtaking places he visited—the Iguazu Falls, salt deserts, silver mines, and rivers with waters reddened by dissolved minerals. During his travels, he often played chess online with Idan back home, allowing his family to keep track of his whereabouts. Sahar returned from his travels with long hair, which he had planned to donate again during his studies. Sahar was accepted to study Electrical and Computer Engineering at Ben-Gurion University, a field in which he excelled. He returned from his travels to begin his studies, which were set to start on October 20, and he was looking forward to them. In the meantime, he worked briefly with his grandfather Yitzhak in the print shop. On a Saturday morning, at the start of the attack on Be'eri, Sahar woke up with Idan in their mother's home. Both were injured by shrapnel from grenades thrown at them. Sahar took care of Idan whole-heartedly. By midday, the attackers had set the house on fire, and the brothers decided to jump out of the secure-room window. Sahar briefly delayed to retrieve Idan’s inhaler, and that was the last time he was heard from. Idan was murdered near the house, and it was later revealed that Sahar had been abducted and taken to Gaza. Sahar celebrated his 25th birthday in captivity. After 62 days in captivity, on the second night of Hanukkah, the heartbreaking news of his subsequent murder reached his family. Almost two years passed; Sahar has finally been brought to rest in Kibbutz Be'eri soil, where he grew up. May his memory be blessed. Back 25.11.1998 - 08.12.2023 25 years old

Mourning the victims of Kibbutz Be'eri Meni Godard Life Story Family and friends share their stories On Shabbat of October 7th, the widest heart that ever beat, came to a sudden stop. Meni Godard—salt of the earth, sweetness of the land, a generous, devoted man, with the ability to love boundlessly—was taken from us, and now has finally been returned. One of the rare souls that shaped Be’eri has come home to the land he loved so deeply. Meni was born in Dajani Hospital in south Tel Aviv, the fourth child of Sonia, a Holocaust survivor from Poland, and of Yaakov, a old-hand swimmer in Israel who competed in two Maccabiah Games and won a series of international titles. In time, Yaakov transitioned from the pools to the beaches and is remembered to this day as the legendary lifeguard of Bat Yam—the city where Meni and his siblings grew up. From Yaakov, Meni inherited his deep love for sports, for the sea, and for people—a love that only grew as time went on. In the early 1960s, tragedy struck the family. Meni’s sister Yamia, was killed in a traffic accident. The painful struggle with the loss led the eldest sister, Shmuelah, to leave home and move to Kibbutz Be’eri. Shortly afterward, at only thirteen, Meni followed in his sister’s footsteps and joined the kibbutz as well. In Be’eri he quickly stood out as an exceptional soccer player. He joined the kibbutz youth team and later the adult team of Hapoel Be’eri, which moved between the B and C leagues. In 1974, the team scored 105 goals—no fewer than 52 (!) of them scored by Meni: the highest number ever scored by a single player in one season. At eighteen, he set the ball aside and enlisted in the Armored Corps reconnaissance unit. In time, he also fought in the northern front battles of the 7th Brigade during the Yom Kippur War. After his discharge, the son of the legendary Bat Yam lifeguard became a king of the beach himself—the beach at Yamit. There he met a young and impressive tour guide serving in the area, who immediately captured his heart. From the very first moment he met Ayelet, Meni knew she was the one he would marry. And so it was. Their wedding took place in September 1981. They were the last couple to marry on the beach at Yamit before its evacuation under the peace agreement with Egypt. From Yamit, Meni and Ayelet moved on to Tel Aviv. He worked as a lifeguard at the Hilton Beach and later at Palmahim Beach. In 1983, their eldest daughter Mor was born, and when she was eight months old, the young family came full circle—Meni returned home, to Be’eri. In 1985, Gal was born, named for Meni’s great love of the sea. In 1991, Bar was born—always "Daddy's girl". In 2004, the family grew when Ayelet and Meni chose to adopt Goni. After meeting Goni for the first time, Meni asked Mor what she thought of him. “He’s cute,” she said. Meni thought for a moment and replied, “I already love him.” Meni and Ayelet took great pride in Goni and in the close bond that formed among them. “We didn’t bring you into the world,” Meni told him, “but we chose you.” Throughout his years in Be’eri, Meni held a variety of roles and trades. He worked as a typesetter in the famous local print shop, managed the kibbutz grocery store, and later served as the chief steward. At the same time, he stayed close to the field, first as a player and later as a coach of the local football team. Generations of young people were trained by him, looking up to him with admiration. While the lower leagues saw him as a symbol of Be’eri, in the upper leagues he was considered one of the most devoted fans of Hapoel Tel Aviv. When Arik Einstein sang “And how miserable are the fans whose hearts get eaten alive,” he was, in many ways, singing about Meni’s heart. While Meni worked as the kitchen supplier, kibbutz members would watch the screens with bated breath whenever Hapoel Tel Aviv played a derby against Maccabi. Everyone in the kibbutz knew that if the Reds won, the next day the jubilant Meni would spoil them with steaks, or at least beer and ice cream for dessert. Beyond every job and every title, in Be’eri he will be remembered as “Meni from the pool,” the institution he ran for many years. Everyone who entered the pool gates looked for Meni—for his kind word, his backgammon game, his support during moments when the soul needed it most. Every new lifeguard who started working at the pool made the same mistake: agreeing to making a bet with Meni that they could beat him in a ball-juggling contest. It always ended in Meni’s sweeping victory. Alongside the day-to-day running of the pool, Meni was determined to turn the place into a cultural gathering spot and a local pilgrimage site. As part of this vision, he initiated “The Pool Cafe.” Once a week, a long table was set with coffee and pastries, and many kibbutz members arrived with shining eyes. Instead of the frequent trips to the water park, Meni decided to create one in Be’eri. Meni’s superpower was his bond with people. His reservoirs of generosity had no limits nor boundaries. He helped both near and far, whether it was a family member, a lone soldier, or a passerby who happened to wander into the pool. The word “no” simply did not exist in his vocabulary. He was, and remained, the go-to person for every appeal for help—the person whose broad shoulders countless people could lean on. His circle of friends spans generations and vast distances, forming the living canon of the good and beautiful Israel: from his comrades-in-arms in the reconnaissance unit, to veteran players of Hapoel Be’er Sheva, to elders of the valley and devoted Hapoel fans. Meni reaped many rewards in every place he went. But there was no achievement he cherished more than the large family he came from, and the loving family he built. He was a devoted husband to Ayelet, a loving brother to his three siblings, a perfect father to his four children, and a beloved grandfather to his six grandchildren. In addition, he was also a deeply devoted son to his father, Yaakov. As Yaakov’s health declined, Meni fought in every way he could to bring him to Be’eri. For many years he cared for him with endless devotion, with touching humility and with no less pride, until Yaakov’s death at age 98. Meni loved this land with all his vast heart—its paths, its songs, and its people. He loved Be’eri - its men and women, and was held in universal admiration by his generation and those who followed. In every home in Be’eri, there is someone who regarded Meni as a partner on life’s journey. In recent years, he and Ayelet joined the “Valley (HaEmek) Parliament” and organized singing evenings that filled Be’eri’s community hall to the brim. At the same time, he continued to roam the trails of the country, sometimes with Ayelet and sometimes with his beloved friends from reserve duty. Outside his home, he planted an orchard that grew apples, mangoes, and mulberries. In a special ceremony with his friends, he named the orchard Arava, after his beloved class. A lush and fruitful orchard—just like the man who nurtured it—an orchard whose fruits will yet grow again. On the horrific Shabbat of 7 October 2023, Meni and Ayelet were murdered by terrorists during the brutal attack on the southern communities. Until their final moments, Meni and Ayelet were together in the home they loved so dearly, in the kibbutz that was their home. Four months after the attack, on 8 February 2024, Kibbutz Be’eri announced that Meni’s body had been abducted and was being held in the Gaza Strip. For more than two years, Meni’s family, the Be’eri community, and his friends worked tirelessly to bring him back for burial in Israel. After 769 long and agonizing days and nights, the circle has finally closed, and Meni has returned home. Meni leaves behind an enormous cloud of love — countless companions on the journey, and a loving, heartbroken family: four children and seven grandchildren, the youngest of whom, Noga, was born several months after the murder of her grandparents. May his memory be blessed. Back 15.08.1950 - 07.10.2023 73 years old

Mourning the victims of Kibbutz Be'eri Orit Svirsky Life Story Family and friends share their stories Orit Svirsky was born on the kibbutz on July 20, 1953 to Aviva and Bamik Sela, who were among the spiritual and physical founders of the kibbutz. Bamik, born in the Borochov neighborhood, and Aviva from Nesher, near Haifa, settled in Nakhbir (old Be’eri) after Yom Kippur, 1946 and fought there in the War of Independence. Bamik, Yigal Alon’s right-hand man, was one of the founders of the Be’eri printing press and its manager. He also served as kibbutz secretary and general manager. Aviva served in many roles, among them principal of the kibbutz school. Orit, the beautiful girl from the “Kitat Shibolim” went straight from Soroka Hospital to the children’s home where all the kids would live and sleep communally. She was a graceful child with infinite gentleness. Orit was warm-hearted with green eyes, full of compassion and intelligence that even in photos from as young as four lit up the room. While many of her group were rough and frivolous, she was ever-so-serious, diligent and industrious. Orit would always find a way to fit in softly and with sensitivity. At home, the little blonde stood out from her dark-skinned, tanned family and would always joke that she was adopted. Orit was an outstanding student; she was very active socially and was a counselor in the Bnei Hakibbutz youth movement. She was always head of the class committee. From a young age, and throughout her rich life, she stood out as a brilliant and resourceful manager, who had an artist’s spirit and was possessed with spiritual depth. Her elder brother Itamar, and her younger siblings, Danny and Osnat, were her soulmates - something that could not be taken for granted in an age of communal living, when each child lived with their peer group, and the class was their family. Orit had other brothers and sisters: Tamar, Amosi, Gidi, the children of Aunty Sarah, Bamik’s sister, who grew up as blood brothers with the Sela siblings. Gidi, with whom Orit was very close, fell during his military service, leaving the family deep in grief. Just before completing high school, Orit met Rafi, who had come to the kibbutz as part of a Nahal group from the scout’s movement. Rafi stood out straightaway as good looking, clever, intelligent. They were brought together by a love of art and Rafi decided to stay on Be’eri. They married in 1979 and then flew for a post-army trip to the Far East, which would become a very significant part of their life’s journey. Their strong, deep connection was an inspiration to all around them. Orit studied at the Hebrew University and then returned to the kibbutz where she taught Bible studies and mathematics. After a year back on the kibbutz, Orit and Rafi moved to Givatayim, where she took on a managerial role. Her twins, Yonatan and Meirav were born in the city, but when the kibbutz gave up communal living in a children’s home, Orit and Rafi took this as a sign that it was time to return home. Itai was born on the kibbutz and four years later, Yuval followed. Right after she came back, Orit opened the kibbutz art gallery in the bomb shelter under the dining room. Some 400 exhibitions have been shown there since. Orit was the gallery’s first curator and devoted herself to contemporary art, adopting a challenging and courageous style. Over the next few decades, she straddled a diverse career as deputy CEO of the printing press, human resources manager and head of welfare and health for the kibbutz, together with her love for art. Orit wanted the kibbutz to constantly evolve and grow and she was always involved in that process of change and reinvention. Orit was a deeply involved parent and mother, a rock and anchor who gave her children a sense of security and was endlessly attentive to their needs and involved in their lives. She was an aunt who was worshiped by a whole tribe of city children who would come to stay on the kibbutz every summer holiday. Throughout the year, they would eagerly await the chance to wake up with Orit at five in the morning for kibbutz chores. As she approached retirement, Orit made another change in her life and began to volunteer as a spiritual counselor for people with serious illnesses and those facing death. She gave herself fully to her spiritual, emotional and artistic studies and blossomed in them. She found her natural place in listening and healing for those who were in need. Those were joyous years of self-realization. Orit was happy as a grandmother who showered love on seven-year-old Eilam, on four-year-old Keinan and on Dror who was born just ten months before her death. These were years of creative activities with her grandchildren and she took care of their every need, especially their inner happiness and creativity, and the content of their souls. These were years in which she nurtured a warm, deep and loving family unit - as well as nurturing her tribe and extended family, with all its branches. She traveled the world with the soul of an adventurer and researcher. She volunteered, with generosity and depth, with caring and with her unique, delicate calm. Orit never stopped learning and improving. She studied and practiced meditation, Buddhism, mindfulness and education. In her art, she developed her own language that was rich and full of beauty, constantly evolving and giving great joy to a large audience, on social media as well. Over the past few years, it was her visual diary, a tool that brings together healing and art, that filled her world. She had a vivid desire to pass on all the tools and knowledge she had acquired. Her home was full of treasures, paint, art tools, and art work. Her courtyard was home to an enchanting, magical, blossoming garden. No one believed Orit was seventy years old; she was bursting with style, impressive, full of strength and light, radiant, at the peak of her life, at the peak of self-fulfillment, at peace with herself, happy with her lot. With endless devotion, she helped her parents into their nineties. Bamik died three years ago. Aviva survived the massacre and is ninety-seven. Deep into the night, amid our holocaust, as the soldiers finally came to evacuate Aviva, she refused to leave until she knew the fate of her daughter. “I have a daughter here,” she insisted, “I have grandchildren.” Itai was taken hostage. Yoni was rescued and survived the massacre. Since six in the morning on that Black Saturday, Meirav and Yuval haven’t ceased to search, to fight, to beseech, to try to save, to hunt down every little piece of information. Through the dark skies, the flourishing house was charred to ash in our holocaust. A few years ago, Orit wrote: “ In moments of fear and weakness, I discovered that I have the freedom to choose how I approach life. I chose then, and I continue to choose now, every day anew, to love what I have, and to develop and grow everything that I can. For me, an ideal life is a life that has love, purpose, growth, balance, generosity, honesty, leadership and creativity. I believe that everything is possible, for all of us, that our potential is greater than we realize and greater than we even imagine.” With her passing, we shall never return to being what we were and what we dreamed of being. May her memory be a blessing. Back 20.07.1953 - 07.10.2023 70 years old

Mourning the victims of Kibbutz Be'eri Shoshana Karasanti Life Story Family and friends share their stories Shoshana Karasanti was born on November 30, 1937 in Buenos Aires, Argentina, the first daughter of her parents Bluma and Ephraim Smolevitzish. When Shoshana was just four years old, her mother died in childbirth. As the tragedy plunged the family into crisis, Shoshana's father became dysfunctional. Shoshana and her baby sister Rena were sent off to a Jewish orphanage in Buenos Aires, which was cold, alien and depressing. Twelve girls lived in each room, eating their meals seated on stiff wooden benches in the dining hall. Shoshana recalled that at the age of five, she peered at the sky and realized that it was totally empty, void of God. She carried this insight in her heart from that day onward. The girls’ only bright spots were the vacations they took each year to the city of Córdoba, where they experienced happiness and laughter. Shoshana fondly remembered picking and eating sweet fruits. Another cherished bright spot was Rena, her little sister. Despite their mother’s tragic death, Rena (Ruti) was and remained Shoshana’s closest friend until Rena’s death five years ago. Although she was younger, Rena was the one who protected Shoshana in the orphanage. At the tender age of twelve, Shoshana left the orphanage to go out to work. She joined a Jewish youth movement, and at fifteen immigrated to Israel through the Jewish Agency, where she settled in a boarding school and began learning Hebrew. At age 18, Shoshana reached Kibbutz Ein Hashlosha in the northern Negev, where she met and married Eli Karasanti. Her two children were born on the kibbutz – Maayana in 1958 and Moti in 1961 – however the couple divorced after a decade. Eli, today 93 years old, survived the inferno of Kibbutz Be’eri. Following her marriage, Shoshana commenced her studies for a Bachelor’s Degree in Education at Oranim College, in addition to studying art at the Avni Institute. For most of her life, Shoshana worked as an art teacher in the kibbutz elementary school, a job which she dearly loved. She also pursued her own artist vision, including abstract and figurative drawings often featured in exhibitions in Tel Aviv. The noted artist Yehezkel Streichman came to view her paintings, and the famed Menashe Kadishman was a great admirer of Shoshana’s work as well. Shoshana’s second love was reading, which she would pursue for hours on end. Most of the time, her television remained off. Her preference was for books from which to learn something, primarily nonfiction and art. One of her favorite volumes was a 1000-page book on Picasso. Shoshana was savvy in every respect. Beyond Hebrew and Spanish, she spoke three languages which she had taught herself – French, English and German. It was possible to speak with Shoshana on any topic in the world, except for politics, which she despised. Shoshana came to Kibbutz Be’eri some seven years ago to be close to Maayana (Hershkovitz), her eldest daughter (who was also tragically murdered in Kibbutz Be’eri on October 7th). Maayana cared for her mother until two years ago when a caregiver was employed for several hours a day. Shoshana basked in the warmth and love of the wonderful kibbutz members, who gave her social and emotional support from the day she arrived. They saw in her a gentle woman with a lovely soul, who walked the kibbutz paths with a smile on her face. Shoshana was active in Be’eri’s Senior Club, where she greatly enjoyed the enriching lectures and activities that broadened her knowledge. Throughout the years, Shoshana continued to draw and to create. An announcement for her last exhibition in the Kibbutz Be’eri Gallery read, “This Saturday will mark the opening of ‘A Butterfly’s Wing,’ an exhibition of Shoshana Karasanti’s work depicting her childhood memories of the Jewish orphanage in Buenos Aires. One of the scrolls of text she attached to the exhibition reads: ‘At the cold, gray wake-up hour, when you were still drowsy, you could close your eyes and see a room with vibrant light.’ Her transparent hand became a butterfly’s glowing wing.” Shoshana maintained a sense of security over her surroundings, and knew well how to contend with difficulties and constraints. One of the sentences that best characterized her was, “Don’t worry, everything will be okay.” From the youngster who grew up in the terrible conditions of an orphanage, in her maturity Shoshana accepted everything with happiness and a smile, never imagining that she deserved more. She always said thank you, and never ever complained. She wouldn’t hurt a fly. She was modest and humble. The great lights of her life were her grandchildren Ella, Amit and Tamir, Maayana’s children, and Opal, Alon and Lihi, Moti’s children and then the seven great-grandchildren, who brought her extraordinary joy. She was an active and involved grandmother, an active partner in raising her grandchildren. She especially enjoyed teaching and sharing with them her vast knowledge. Shoshana raised generations of children on the love of art and the importance of creating, as her great passion became a part of them, engraved in their hearts. Following the Black Sabbath in Be’eri, a childhood friend of Moti’s noted how to this day he has kept a chanukiah that he made in one of Shoshana’s art classes. She knew how to instill her love of art within others, inspiring children and those around her to love and explore art and literature. Shoshana’s full life, within which she gave inspiration and love to so very many, is a manifestation of her powerful emotional strength and her ability to flourish despite difficulties - to light the darkness as a glowing butterfly wing. Shoshana’s life abruptly ended on the kibbutz she loved so dearly. She was laid to rest on Kibbutz Ein Hashlosha in the Negev earth that was the landscape of her life, the landscape of her love. Her noble inspiration, her beaming smile, will always remain in our hearts. May her memory be blessed. Back 30.11.1937 - 07.10.2023 86 years old

Mourning the victims of Kibbutz Be'eri Ilan Weiss Life Story Family and friends share their stories Ilan was born in Holon. He was the firstborn child of his mother, Miki (Miriam), a native Israeli, and the third child of his father, Avri (Avraham), a Holocaust survivor who had arrived in Israel as a young boy from Hungary. Ilan’s parents married when his father was a young widower with two children, Amir and Raviv. When Ilan was two and a half years old, his younger sister, Osnat, was born. From infancy, Ilan was energetic, mischievous, and endlessly curious. He started walking at just nine months old and could never sit still. As a child, he loved family outings visiting relatives in Haifa. His father would lower the backseat of the car, and Ilan and his sister would snuggle up there with blankets, pillows, and their beloved dog, "Humit" ("Brownie"). In the tenth grade, Ilan moved to Kibbutz Ramat Rachel as a yeled hutz (boarding student). The kibbutz children attended the regional school in Givat Brenner, but Ilan was never particularly drawn to academics; he preferred the open fields and green pastures. He often joined the farm workers in the surrounding wheat fields near the school. Despite this, he managed to complete twelve years of schooling, a feat he credited to a devoted homeroom teacher who made sure he didn’t drop out. During his military service, Ilan enlisted in the combat engineering corps. However, after sustaining an injury, his medical profile was lowered. Recognizing his abilities, his commanders allowed him to choose a new assignment. He chose to become an air traffic controller and served at Nevatim Airbase, a role he loved. From then on, he could recognize aircraft types just by the sound of their engines and developed a deep fascination with aviation. After his discharge from the army, Ilan returned to Ramat Rachel and began working in agriculture, gaining expertise in cotton cultivation and plant protection. In 1992, he arrived at Kibbutz Be’eri to work in the crop division and became the first certified bambach (kibbutznik on sabbatical) on the kibbutz. It was here that he met Shiri, a kibbutz member who worked in education. In 1995, they married. Shiri’s parents welcomed Ilan as a son of their own, and he embraced them as additional parents. Over the years, the couple was blessed with three daughters—Meital[RA1] , Ma’ayan, and Noga. Ilan was captivated by his daughters and was a devoted, loving family man who gave his all to his wife and children. The girls were incredibly close to him, always turning to him for advice and support. A beloved "family member" was also Ketem ('Blotch"), their cherished dog, who lived with them for ten years until he died on that tragic "Black Saturday." The family loved traveling together, both in Israel and abroad, and going to concerts. Ilan had a deep appreciation for country music and was an avid fan of the dance group Lord of the Dance , attending every one of their performances in Israel. In August 2023, the family traveled to Budapest, where Ilan was deeply moved to find the childhood home of his father. During the COVID years, Ilan discovered a passion for cooking and enjoyed preparing meals for the family. From then on, they made it a tradition to eat at home regularly, including Friday-night dinners and holiday meals. He also loved hosting extended family gatherings for barbecues. Once a year, Ilan would go on casino cruises with friends, sometimes winning, sometimes losing, but always coming out even. Every weekend, he would go cycling with Gil Boyum (Shiri’s late brother) and another close friend. After work, he loved unwinding with a cold beer in the garden he lovingly tended. Over the years, Ilan worked in agriculture and simultaneously served as the kibbutz’s security coordinator. Later, he took on the role of managing the crop division. During this time, he also pursued a bachelor’s degree in a special program for managers at Ruppin College. Together with Avshal (of blessed memory), who was then the economic coordinator, he spearheaded the effort to remove Be’eri from the Yacham (Ma'on Regional farming Organization) organization. After completing his studies, Ilan began working in the kibbutz printing press, in the Bewe department. After three years, he transitioned to managing the spare parts warehouse at the garage. Upon the kibbutz’s request, he returned to his roots—working in landscaping—and later became the infrastructure manager, a newly established role designed to oversee construction, electrical work, plumbing, and budget control, as well as supervision and planning for gas, roads, and communication networks. Ilan loved this position. He felt he was making a meaningful contribution by bringing order to complex systems and shaping the kibbutz’s infrastructure. He was meticulous in his work, always listening and committed to supporting the team leaders. He approached every challenge with both a community-oriented and systematic perspective. An organized and responsible manager, he was deeply loyal to the kibbutz and ensured that decisions were carried out, even when they conflicted with his personal opinions. Throughout his various roles, Ilan was actively involved in numerous committees. Everywhere he went, he was known as a loyal friend—honest, hardworking, dedicated, and gifted with a unique sense of humor. For the last four years, he served as the deputy head of the local emergency response team (Tzachi). In his unassuming way, he was always someone to rely on, responding to every situation with precision and thoughtfulness. He was always ready to help—devoted, responsible, and fearless. No matter the event, he was there, arriving without hesitation. So, it was on the morning of Saturday, October 7. The kibbutz’s rapid response team (QRF) did not have a key to the armory because the security coordinator had been killed in the first moments of the terrorist invasion. Ilan was called to bring the key. He left his home and was murdered by terrorist gunfire while still in his club car (like a golf cart), on his way to protect the kibbutz he loved so deeply. After his murder, Ilan was abducted to Gaza. He was 56 years old. May his memory be a blessing. Back 03.11.1967 - 07.10.2023 56 years old

Mourning the victims of Kibbutz Be'eri Noy Shosh Life Story Family and friends share their stories Noy Shosh was born on December 12, 1986 to Miriam and Gabriel Shosh, joining brothers Ohr and Raz. The family lived in Katzrin, and enjoyed traveling in the Golan Heights and vacationing in Eilat and Sinai. Noy was an ardent nature lover. When he finished 8th grade, the family moved to Ness Ziona, where he studied for one year at Ben-Gurion School, followed by five years at the IDF Ordnance Corps Technological School. Noy earned his degree in Mechanical Engineering, specializing in Vehicle Engineering, while simultaneously working in a garage to both gain experience and knowledge and contribute to his family's income. Noy served in the Ordnance Corps Unit and later became an officer, advancing to the rank of Captain. Noy was passionate about his military service and served for many years in the IDF reserves. He met his future wife, Mahol, in 2008 during his military service. The two were a couple for six years until Mahol completed her studies and they decided to marry. Their wedding was held on Kibbutz Bror Hayil. Noy and Mahol chose to set down roots in Kibbutz Be'eri, where he quickly acclimated and found his place at work and in the kibbutz society. In the garage, Noy both worked and managed several positions, the last as garage manager. Noy had golden hands and a big heart, lending a quick, generous hand to all, with a smile. In 2018, their eldest daughter Noga was born, followed by Netzer, who celebrated his fourth birthday at a hotel on the Dead Sea. The third child is one-and-a-half-year-old Lavie. The family’s favorite pastime was taking trips in the jeep Noy had bought. He was a member of the Prado Driving Club where he took part in many excursions. Noy joined the Be'eri Pub staff and happily took his turn for shifts and events held at the pub. At the start of their journey, Mahol and Noy would often frequent restaurants and movies. As parents, they fully devoted themselves to raising their children. Noy maintained a strong relationship with his longtime circle of friends throughout the years. On the morning of Saturday, October 7, 2023, the family members were awakened by the clamor of shelling and shooting. At those very moments, Noy received an emergency order to report to his IDF unit. As the “Red Alert” sirens sounded, the entire family barricaded themselves in the bomb shelter. Terrorists infiltrated the house and tried to break into the shelter. With one hand, Noy held the door handle shut, as he gripped his loaded gun with the other hand. The terrorists’ gunfire penetrated the door, injuring Noy in his arm and leg. As Noy bled profusely, Mahol summoned the resourcefulness and presence of mind to tear a sheet and tie it as an artery-block to bandage his arm. At the same time, she tried to telephone for help. As Noy’s strength ebbed and he collapsed, Mahol grabbed his gun. When the sight of a gun barrel appeared in the door’s peephole, Mahol took the gun and shot towards it. There was silence from behind the door. The terrorists then set the house on fire, filling the bomb shelter with thick smoke. Mahol and the children parted from Noy with words of love. She then opened the window of the shelter to allow them to breathe fresh air. At last, soldiers arrived to evacuate Mahol and the children to a neighboring apartment. At the same time, Noy’s two brothers began searching for him in hospitals. When they could not find him, his oldest brother went to Be'eri. After deliberation and discussion with IDF personnel, Noy’s body was removed from the bomb shelter. Mahol and the children were evacuated from Be'eri. In Mahol’s words: “We had a long, happy relationship. We were a team connected to one another.” May his memory be blessed. Back 12.12.1986 - 07.10.2023 37 years old

Mourning the victims of Kibbutz Be'eri Paul Vince Castelvi Life Story Family and friends share their stories Paul was born in Pampanga, Philippines, the son of Lourdines and Lilina, the third of four children. He was a mischievous child, perhaps a little too precocious. He wasn’t a big fan of school, but graduated from the local high school in the town of San Fernando. He worked odd jobs after graduating, and migrated to Saudi Arabia at the age of 25, to work as a school bus driver. It was there that he met Jovelle “Bell” Santiago, at the baptism of a baby born in the Filipino community. He was 33; she was 24. Bell liked Paul instantly, but decided to be careful. “My heart was saying yes, but my head told me to watch out, because I had to make sure he didn’t have a wife back home.” Paul courted Bell for a full month before she agreed to give him her phone number. Bell was working as an orderly at a hospital. But after two and a half years, in 2015, she no longer felt safe in Saudi Arabia and decided to go back home. Paul missed her. A month after her departure, he took time off and surprised her in the Philippines, where the first thing he did was ask her parents’ permission to marry her. Paul and Bell had to wait to get married, because Bell’s sister was getting married that year, and it is customary in the Philippines to wait a year between weddings. In the meantime, they planned to return to Saudi Arabia together, but Bell had a friend who worked in Israel and told her going there was a better option. She migrated to Israel, and Paul joined her shortly after, in December 2018. Paul worked on Kibbutz Erez for a year. When the elderly man he was caring for passed away, Paul moved to Be’eri, where he cared for Arik Mor for a short period before being hired by Eviatar “Tari” Kipnis, who had motor disabilities. Tari and Lilach were thrilled to take him in, and Paul and Tari developed a friendship founded on their mutual interests: cooking, exercise, cycling, and kayaking. Paul was tall, muscular, and strong, and was able to help Tari with any kind of exercise his illness allowed him to practice. On good days, they worked together at the bicycle shop, taking breaks to cook Turkish coffee. On difficult days and during periods of hospitalizations, Paul chose to stay at Tari’s side outside of normal working hours, alleviating the man’s loneliness during those long, challenging nights. Over the years, especially when Tari’s health was better, Paul became more of a friend or relative. He stayed on the second floor of the house, in an attic converted into a studio apartment with a balcony. He cooked for Lilach and Tari and always loaded the dishwasher, even though the family members protested. He kept a vegetable garden and took pride in his crop—especially the hot peppers. Paul wasn’t afraid of rocket attacks. A religious man, he chose to pray rather than go into the safe room. He lifted weights in his attic and played basketball with kibbutz members. He connected with the local children, was open and curious about life in Israel and specifically on the kibbutz, and was familiar and beloved by all members. In 2020, in the midst of the Covid-19 pandemic, Paul and Bell got married in a modest ceremony at the Embassy of the Philippines in Tel Aviv. Lilach and Tari threw a reception for them in their home, including a white wedding gown and a bouquet. Bell worked at Kibbutz Or HaNer, not far from Be’eri. The newlyweds matched their vacation schedule, going to Tel Aviv together twice a month and meeting during the week every chance they got. Every night at nine o’clock, they spent an hour talking on the phone. In February 2023, Bell found out she was pregnant, due in October. Everyone was thrilled, and Tari and Lilach invited Bell to spend her maternity leave in their home. Paul made plans for a surprise visit to their families in the Philippines along with their baby in December 2023. Tari and Lilach were going to buy them the plane tickets as a gift. Later on, Paul dreamed of moving with his wife and child to America or New Zealand, find a job that would allow him to be home every day by five o’clock, and be a family man. Paul and Tari drove to Or HaNer during the first week of October to load all of Bell’s things and the baby gear—including Nike sneakers, so that the baby could become a basketball player—and moved them to the attic in Be’eri. On October 7th, everything went up in flames. That morning, Paul and Bell had a short text exchange. He told her he was in the safe room with Tari. By 9:30 A.M. he was no longer responding to messages. The next morning, Bell was evacuated to Tel Aviv with the rest of Or HaNer’s residents. She had no idea what became of Paul until two days later, when she received a call from the embassy. Paul was identified by the tattoo of Bell’s name on his arm. Jason Paul Junior was born on November 4th, 2023, less than a month after his father’s murder. A photo of Paul, along with his ashes, are set by the baby’s crib. May his memory be a blessing. Back 21.12.1980 - 07.10.2023 43 years old (Nursing Assistant)

Mourning the victims of Kibbutz Be'eri Lior Tarshansky Life Story Family and friends share their stories Lior was born on October 24th, 2007. He was due to celebrate his sixteenth birthday in late autumn, two weeks after he was murdered. Lior was a kibbutz child, a nature child walking barefoot around the kibbutz paths. People couldn’t take their eyes off this beautiful little boy, with his long hair and almond-like, slightly slanted eyes. Mowgli, they called him. Mowgli grew up to become Chumpa, and Tetro as well. Tetro was the name given to him by his good buddy Alon, who was also murdered by the terrorists. The girls used to call him Liori. He was a magnet for nicknames; a magnet for love. But first and foremost, Lior was his parents’ son. His mother, Reuma, is a movement therapist. His father, Ilya, made aliya from Russia and worked as the plumber of the kibbutz. Lior was also Gali’s elder brother and the younger brother of Eden on his fathers' side. As the first grandchild, Lior had earned the coveted status of being the baby everyone wanted to hold; a soft, gentle baby who loved to cuddle up. At the tender age of one he was injured by shrapnel from Kassam missiles fired at Beeri. Luckily, he survived – to become a naughty little boy, a “performer” who loved making up funny dances and fooling around. He liked wrestling in the living room with Gali; he liked playing Catan on family holidays and threatening he would beat everyone to the ground - which never really happened, except for once. And Lior was so high on that one-time victory – he couldn’t stop talking about it. There were many other things he loved: Maccabi Haifa, mom’s famous jachnoon. The latter had always been at the center of family gatherings, always anticipated with great joy. Every year, the family would rent a holiday cottage on Yom Kippur. It was a treasured family event where everyone could spend some time together, chattering, sharing, tightening up family ties. On Lior’s last Yom Kippur the family rented a cottage on the Gilboa mountain, and he came along with his girlfriend, Omer. Everyone was joking about this family tradition, which started when Lior was a one-year-old baby, realizing what a significant stretch of time had since passed. As he was born and raised in Beeri, the kibbutz was part of Lior – just as he was a part of the kibbutz. To a great extent, the kibbutz had shaped the young man he was becoming. As an adolescent he was more aware of himself – a little less of the nonsensical kid and a little more of a ‘kibbutznik’, a proper kibbutz member. He felt strongly connected to the kibbutz way of life, to his Afarsek classmates in Beeri, and believed in taking part, contributing and undertaking all kinds of tasks. In the ninth grade he joined the Bar Mitzva team and spent the next two years getting up early, carrying heavy stuff around and helping whole heartedly wherever he was needed. This year he was chosen to be the Bar Mitzva guide – a highly valued position – which made him very excited and proud of himself. He was supposed to lead a group of twenty thirteen-year-olds. At home he had his exclusive responsibilities as well – french fries, for example; everyone knew this was his realm, and no-one else dared near the fryer at barbeques. He was also the favorite babysitter of his younger cousins. He loved kids, had tons of patience and a great approach to them – and they loved him back. Lior was a high-school student at Nofey Habsor. A bright one - yet not a “wonk”, to say the least. It either came easy to him, or not at all. He was never the one to be dragged into something others were doing, or to rebel. Lior knew exactly what he wanted and had his own unique way of getting there. If he ever skipped a lesson, it was for a good reason – Maccabi Haifa. Shakked, his former homeroom teacher, says he had always asked her how she was doing. It was so natural for him, so untypical of his age. Such maturity he possessed, such depth and inner peace. A true “mensch”. Shakked says she was very happy to witness his flourishing relationship with Omer. “They were both so gentle, elegant and photogenic together,” she recounts. Two giant hearts, yet humble and kind, always capable of truly seeing the other. Lior was a quiet person, the classic hot shy-guy, but at the same time he was friendly and witty and funny. You couldn’t really get into a fight with him – his friends say they had never seen him lose his temper. It was so difficult to make him lose it that it became a major challenge: who’s going to make Lior truly angry. On one of their summer trips they said to him, “Listen, Lior, we’re all dying to see you scream. You just have to! Let’s go to the beach and shout together!” It became the trip-joke. They all went, “Shout, Lior!” but no-one could make him do it. Yam, his friend, says Lior was his confidant – he only told him (and his own father) things he wouldn’t tell anyone else. They once shared an electric scooter ride around the kibbutz, talking, talking, and talking – only to realize, at a certain point, it was five thirty a.m. and they had been talking for six hours nonstop. Lior loved diving – and not only into the depths of a heart-to-heart. He had an Advanced Open Water Diver license and planned on going on a diving safari. He loved other sports as well – ping pong, basketball and soccer, of course. A year before he was murdered, he flew to Paris with Tal - his uncle - and Yam, to watch a Maccabi Haifa game, and strolled around the city with sparkling eyes – so wholly enchanted by everything. Maccabi Haifa had an obituary published following Lior’s murder. He was supposed to celebrate his sixteenth birthday at their game against Maccabi Beer Sheva. On his birthday, his friends said, Maybe we should all just go down to the Dead Sea beach and scream our lungs out? But they never made it, and anyway – each of them knew that if Lior saw them standing there, screaming, he would simply crack up laughing. May his memory be a blessing. Back 24.10.2007 - 07.10.2023 16 years old

Mourning the victims of Kibbutz Be'eri Matti Weiss Life Story Family and friends share their stories Matti and Amir. Amir and Matti. Both were born in February 1954. Matti was born in Holon to Zizi and Marco Altras who came to Israel from Morocco. Amir was born in kibbutz Hefziba, the son of Mira and Avri Weiss. Matti lived with her family in a one-room apartment in a neighborhood built for new immigrants. She was 16 when her brother Avi was born, and the family moved to Eilat. She served as an operations sergeant in Sharm-a-Shiekh and spent the Yom Kippur War in a bunker in the mountains over the town. After the war she and her army friends traveled around the Sinai mountains. After the army, she worked as a ground hostess at Eilat airport, where she met Amir. Amir was Mira and Avri’s second child. Their families had come to Israel from Romania and Hungary. Their firstborn son died in infancy. Amir and his younger brother, Raviv, lost their mother to cancer. Avri remarried when Amir was 12, and the family moved to Holon, where Asnat and Ilan, his two half-siblings, were born. Amir loved kibbutz life and the views of Mount Gilboa. When he was in school on the kibbutz he learned to play the cello. He went to the Thelma Yellin High School of Art and Music where he played cello and double bass. He served as an officer in the quartermaster corps, and following his discharge from the military, as a security guard for Arkia Airlines in Eilat. That is where he met Matti, who eventually proposed to him. Amir refused, and a week later, on the beach, proposed to her. Their wedding was a modest one, in the Holon rabbinate building. They became inseparable. They settled in Eilat, where their twins, Ran and Michal were born. They next moved to kibbutz Ramat Rachel, birthplace of their son Yuval. Three years later, they looked for a different kibbutz, and were offered a small, temporary apartment in Be’eri. They moved there, waiting for the larger apartment to be built. They settled in Be’eri in 1985, and their son Oren was born there. Matti’s childhood dream was to be a teacher. The games she loved playing with her friends were that she was the teacher and they – her pupils. She made her dream come true. She received her B.Ed., and then got her M.A. in educational-systems management. She began as a teacher in Be’eri, and later established and ran a private school, Nofim, on the kibbutz. Nofim espoused the values of farming and agriculture. Matti was one of the first to work outside of Be’eri. She worked for the Branco Weiss Education System, developing pedagogical content and managing educational programs all around the country. She then moved to the Rashi Foundation and became part of the Katzir Foundation, which provides scholarships for students. She then continued to guidance, personal counseling, and coaching for school principals. She continued energetically after her retirement, working for the community-art program at Sapir College. There, too, she did an outstanding job. Matti was a natural leader. Wherever life took her she was an enterprising trailblazer, a significant figure who, with great ability, managed people and teams. Amir, who from a young age loved wide open spaces and nature, found his destiny in agriculture, especially field crops, which he managed for many years. His children say that “Our best childhood memories are being with Abba on the tractor, working in the peanut and cotton plantation and the carrot fields.” He expressed his musical talent by singing in all kibbutz ceremonies, most notably Omer, Omer which he sang every year on the day of the first harvest, one day before the Passover seder, when the farmers harvested the first stalks of grain. When he left the field crops, Amir went to Rupin College to study business administration. He then joined the Be’eri printing plant, where, for many years, he was manager of the warehouse and the logistics center. He continued working there and volunteering, even after his retirement. Matti and Amir got to share a great love. Despite their differences – he was quiet and introverted; she was active and energetic – they complemented each other and did everything together. They both loved Israeli songs, and Amir also loved classical music. They both loved being close to nature, the landscapes, the vastness of the Negev. Their children’s clearest memory is the “anemone picnic.” Every February, when they celebrated their birthdays, they’d go out with their children and grandchildren to the wildflower fields around the kibbutz and enjoy a family picnic. Their daughter Michal said, “It was more important to them than anything else.” Nothing was dearer to them than family. “They were involved, protective parents,” their children said. “They were always there for us, and we always knew we could count on them. We could call them from any place in the country, any time, and Abba would come to pick us up from a dark road or a faraway army base. Our parents’ life objective was to have a strong, united family. It was they who brought us all back to live in Be’eri.” Amir and Matti had ten grandchildren. They were devoted grandparents, happy to care for the grandchildren, who felt that their grandparents’ house was their second home. They devoted their time and energy to the grandchildren and had a close and special relationship with each one. After they retired a few years ago, they traveled the world. These were their best years. They devoured life – they wanted to see everything. They planned to travel, to see, to experience. They had many dreams, all of which were brutally severed. When the attack on Be’eri began on October 7, 2023, Matti and Amir locked themselves at home, as did all residents of Be’eri. They were injured and knew they would not make it. Their last words were words of great love to their children and grandchildren. “They went together,” their children say, “and if we can find comfort in anything, it is that they will not have to live without each other. They were the best of friends and they loved each other. Ima always said, ‘I don’t know what I’ll do without him.’” Amir and Matti. Matti and Amir. Loving and caring in life, they remained together in death. May their memory be a blessing. Back 08.02.1954 - 07.10.2023 69 years old