Mordechai Naveh

Mordechai was born in Romania, in Iasi. He was the second child of Reuven and Pnina Simon, Shoah survivors who had lived through the worst of times. His older sister, Devorah, used to call him “my big brother,” referring to his large body and his inner strength. Coming from a family of Cohanim, Mordechai had strong memories of the synagogue they went to when he was a child, and always missed the rain and snow in Romania. He used to tell his children and grandchildren about the family’s poverty, how, as a child, he had to walk over a kilometer carrying a bucket to draw water from the well. He spoke about the excitement when his father took him to the market and bought him an orange. He was excited again, when toward the end of this life he took his family to his native town. He was so proud of his family.

The Simon family came on aliya in 1959 and settled in Beer Sheva, where Yehuda was born. Reuven worked for Solel Boneh while their mother Pnina was a seamstress. When he was 13, Mordechai went to live in Be’eri and joined the Brosh class, with youngsters from Aliyat Hanoar. He used to say that he had two bar mitzvahs – one with his family in synagogue, and one in the kibbutz, with his friends who, over the years, became family.

Mordechai enlisted in the navy in 1967. He was a frogman in the 13th course, and then served as a submarine mechanic until 1970. He changed his name to the Hebrew Naveh, the name of a naval commander he held in great esteem. He was proud of his service and of his frogmen comrades, who became lifelong friends. They were the only ones who were allowed to call him Motti. He was scheduled to board the doomed submarine, Dakkar, but his name did not come up in the lottery, and his life was spared. He lost many of his friends and was part of the search team.

He met Meira, his wife, when they were both young people on the kibbutz. He was a new immigrant, she a native kibbutz girl, a year his junior. Mordechai was a messy type, and the orderly Meira found this annoying. Only after they were both out of the army and back in Be’eri did the old quarrels give way to great love. They got married on the eve of Lag Ba’omer, 1970. Asheri, their firstborn son, was born a year later followed by his sister Gitit and brothers Elad and Dotan.

After the army, Mordechai returned to Be’eri. His vision was to build the kibbutz. He went to Ruppin College to study civil engineering, but the kibbutz pressured him to come back and head construction on the kibbutz. He left his studies just before graduation. A man of action and vision, he managed all construction for 15 years. The new kibbutz communal dining hall was built under his supervision, as was the assembly hall. Homes were enlarged to accommodate the transition from children living in children’s homes to living with their families. He later supervised additional large projects such as the sports center, the amphitheater near the kibbutz, and constructing safe rooms in each home.

Mordechai never compromised, right down to the smallest detail, a perfectionist who stood his ground. He insisted on doing things his way and did not spare his words to make his point. He could talk to anyone, and loved doing it. He had wonderful relationships with everyone – including the Bedouin workers from Rahat and the Palestinian workers from Gaza.

When Meira bravely battled cancer, he was her partner in battle. He did all he could to support her and nurse her in her last years. She died in July 2000, and left Mordechai and the family painfully bereaved. He asked that a line from a song be engraved on her tombstone: “I have love, and it will prevail.” Mordechai was a very warm and involved father, and a wonderful grandfather to his eight grandchildren – Amit, Linoy, Shakked, Hilla, Erez, Dror, Agam, and Klil. He always organized birthday parties and family gatherings, and, as with everything he did, he thought of everything. He also enjoyed the good things in life – good food, a drink, and cigars.

About two years after Meira’s death, Yona Fricker entered Mordechai’s life. Their relationship blossomed into a strong bond. Mordechai was like a father to Yona’s three daughters – Aviv, Sigal, and Stav, and he cared for Yona’s granddaughters as if they were his own.

The boy who came to the kibbutz as a new immigrant gradually became one of the central figures on the kibbutz. He was active in kibbutz life, ran the pub, and helped manage the basketball team. He worked out, swam, and played basketball until his legs prevented him from doing so. It was impossible to reach him at 9 pm on Thursdays. That’s when the Euro League games were on. And where the Maccabi team was, so was he. He loved music – the Gypsy Kings, Arik Einstein, and Mati Caspi, and following Meira, the Gevatron. More than anything, he loved singing Let My People Go at the kibbutz seder.

When smoking in the communal dining room was banned, he made sure to have a tent erected outside for smokers. The smokey tent was the hotbed for many deep friendships. When Mordechai was approached to study the idea of growing jojoba, a crop not yet known in Israel, he got on board and set up the new branch of agriculture. He returned to Ruppin College and was certified as an organic farmer. He learned all the secrets, established a jojoba press, recruited kibbutz members to help plant and harvest the crop, training them for the job and providing them with memorable breakfasts. In recent years he returned to carpentry, which he always loved, and ran the “Geri-carpentry,” where retired kibbutz members create wooden toys, and deliver them to the home for the elderly on the kibbutz, where the residents painted and decorated the toys.

Mordechai was home on the morning of Saturday, October 7, 2023. When the members were told to lock their secure spaces, he went on WhatsApp to instruct them. When he found out that Yona could not lock the secure room and that there were people in her home, he never thought twice and went immediately to rescue her. There was no other option – he had already lost one woman he loved, and he could not see life worth living without Yona. He managed to get to her neighborhood, where he was slightly wounded. Two men from the preparedness unit brought him to a safe place and took care of him. The shooting then resumed, and the men went out to fight. Tragically, the terrorists blew up the building.

Mordechai was a man of large size and huge heart. The vacuum he left is equally huge.

The kibbutz he built with his own hand suffered greatly. But the roots remain firm and strong. The houses will be rebuilt. The flowers will bloom again.

May his memory be a blessing.