Orit Svirsky

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 Hakibbutzyouth 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.