Itai Svirsky

Itai was murdered on January 13. His body was recovered and brought back to Israel. 

On Friday, December 6, we are bringing him home to be buried in the soil of Kibbutz Be’eri, in the place reserved for him — between his parents and next to his grandfather, Bamik.

Itai was born on Kibbutz Be’eri on February 17, 1985, the third child of Rafi, a member of the Garin "Abir", and Orit, daughter of Aviva and Bemik Sela, founders of the kibbutz. Orit and Rafi raised his older siblings, Merav and Yonatan, in Givatayim until the kibbutz decided to abolish communal sleeping arrangements. They returned to Be’eri a few months before Itai was born. Later, the youngest son, Yuval, joined the family. The young Savirsky family was passionately committed to the kibbutz, much like the founding generation, yet with a critical eye and a creative, open-minded approach to change. They held key responsibilities: Orit in print management and the social sphere, and Rafi in economy.

Itai’s human devotion and his constant desire to be there for others was a trait he gleaned from home. Itai was a curious and sensitive child with golden curls and a timid half-smile. Even in his childhood photos, one could see his kind eyes and observant, empathetic gaze. Alongside his sensitivity, his athletic talents stood out from a young age, beginning with the Be’eri mini-basketball team, continuing through Dov’s tennis lessons, and on to soccer—a great talent that wasn’t fully realized, perhaps due to his equal knack for getting injured during play. His friends in the "Tapuach" class recall him being a level above everyone else, always teaching us a thing or two on the field.

Beyond his talent and enjoyment of sports, Itai was a devoted fan of Maccabi Tel Aviv, spending much time with friends and family watching soccer games. In his teenage years, Itai’s love for music blossomed. He studied voice training, enjoyed playing guitar and piano, and especially loved the works of Eviatar Banai and Amir Lev.

Merav describes their family as a "house of boys," with sibling spats that was actually a way the brothers expressed their care for one another. Itai’s second home was with his grandparents, Aviva and Bemik—a place where he could simply be himself, free of questions and demands. He spent nearly every afternoon there, enjoying his grandmother’s plates of fruit and cakes until his parents returned from work. Saturdays added his grandfather’s fries and salad, and many cousins playing on the lawn outside.

Another significant home was Aviva’s apartment near Habima Auditorium in Tel Aviv, a family destination for weekend visits and annual vacations filled with the excitement of the big city. Meals at Aharoni’s Chinese restaurant, Itai’s favorite, were never missed.

From a young age, Itai grappled with philosophical questions about life and human nature. In high school, he studied Jewish thought, relishing the discussions and the opportunity to explore fundamental questions with depth and an open mind. He continued to engage in philosophical debates everywhere, with a genuine curiosity and a willingness to truly listen and learn.

After a delayed enlistment due to a sports injury, Itai served in the Air Control Unit. Upon completing his service, he traveled to India and upon his return, alternated between Be’eri and Tel Aviv before settling in the city. In 2010, he began studying for a bachelor’s degree in psychology and philosophy at Tel Aviv University. His quest for the "perfect path" did not skip his studies—he switched from philosophy to economics, then to general studies, later completing a master’s degree in business administration.

In recent years, Itai discovered the Satya method through his mother and Aunt Osnat. Starting as a participant, he completed the coaching course in 2023 and began taking steps as a coach. Friends and family who trained with him during his studies spoke of his remarkable ability to deeply connect with people, listen attentively, and reflect what he heard. For the first time, it seemed he had found his professional calling.

Curiosity also led him to Brazilian jiu-jitsu, which became integral to his life over the past two and a half years. Initially hesitant about its intensity and physical aggressivity, he overcame his fears, and his athletic talent shined through. Training four times a week, he also incorporated Muay Thai and Mixed Martial Arts, creating deep bonds with his teammates and becoming a beloved member of his club.

Above all, Itai cherished time with his family, always available to help with care and concern. He shared warm relationships with his aunts, uncles, and cousins, and became the perfect uncle to Merav and Dan’s sons, Keynan and Elam. He lovingly cared for his father, Rafi, during his recovery from a heart attack, and frequently shared cherished “Tel Aviv time” with him and his brother Yonatan. His unique bond with his grandmother Aviva brought him to the kibbutz almost every weekend, showing his devotion and spending quality time.

On Friday, October 6, Itai was in Be’eri with his family, as he often was on weekends. The brutal attack on the kibbutz caught him at Orit’s home. They took shelter in the fortified room amidst gunfire and shouting, and maintained a connection with the family through their family WhatsApp. Gradually, communication with family members was severed: first with Rafi, then with Itai, and lastly with Orit. She sent a heart emoji. And then another.

Orit and Rafi were murdered in Be’eri on October 7. Itai’s fate remained uncertain until the family received indications he had been abducted to Gaza. Fifty days later, survivors who were held captive with him reported he had seen his mother killed and asked them to convey a plea to Merav: to do everything possible to save him. Despite tireless efforts, on the 97th day of captivity, the building where Itai, Noa Argamani, and Yossi Sharabi were held collapsed due to an airstrike. Itai survived the collapse but was murdered two days later by his captors.

Even under inhumane conditions, Itai remained true to himself: resourceful, resilient, and emotionally present for others—a confidant, a listener, a source of support. Itai’s tragic death stands in stark contrast to his life and character: a man of connection, humanity, and compassion; sensitive, kind, and always seeking peace and goodness.

When asked during his Satya training what kind of coach he aspired to be, he said:
“Calm, humble, compassionate, and with a sense of humor.” That is who he wanted to be. That is who he was. And that is how we will always remember him.

May his memory be a blessing.