Carmel Gat Life Story Carmel was the eldest daughter of Kinneret and Eshel Gat, a big sister to Alon and Or. She was the first grandchild to Ruta and Eliyahu from Be'eri, and the second to Tova and Naim Dahan from far-away Kibbutz Degania. This made her bond with her grandparents especially strong. During visits to Degania or on the lawn at her grandparents' house in Be'eri, the children loved to play wildly, and Eliyahu would occasionally have to step in to separate the bundle of energetic kids. The young family lived in the bustling neighborhood of Mishmar HaGvul, a lively area full of children. Afternoons spent playing together and shared holidays created lasting friendships and a deep sense of community. At home, Carmel, who was relatively mature for her age, worked alongside her mother, Kinneret, to shape the cultural world of her younger siblings. She decided what books they would read, which TV series they’d watch together on the couch, and what music they’d listen to on MTV—guiding them on which bands and artists were "in" and which were "out". Alon and Or were grateful to Carmel for paving the way with their parents, setting precedents that allowed them to go to concerts, hang out at the beach with friends, and attend parties. She was not only their inspiration and role model but also their support in difficult times—always with humor and laughter. In school, in "Petel" class, they called her "Meli", and she held a special place there. The girls of Petel didn’t usually join the boys in their mischief, but occasionally they shared in the spoils. Carmel stood out as a strong-minded child, principled with a keen sense of justice. She followed her internal compass and did what she believed was right, never swayed by the crowd. She was the first in her class to move to the big city, a refuge for classmates who found themselves there. Whenever she visited the kibbutz, she made sure to meet up with the Petel kids. After studying the Grinberg Method, every meeting and conversation with Carmel came with her healing touch. During conversations, her magical hands would press the right spots, releasing tension both physically and emotionally. Life in Tel Aviv brought Carmel many odd jobs: delivering sandwiches to offices, assisting a disabled student by taking notes and summarizing lectures, and more. Her hallmark was always her interpersonal communication. In a shared apartment in Tel Aviv, Carmel met Robi, and together they spent 14 years filled with love, laughter, music, friends, and their beloved dog, Zoe. Carmel was a people person, someone you could have deep conversations with and gain a new perspective. Her path naturally led her to study occupational therapy, where she chose to work with mental health patients. For the last three years, she worked in the "Eshnav for Education" program, showcasing the qualities that made her so beloved by her friends: she could see the best in everyone, make them feel special, and amplify the positive. She loved people without letting them off the hook, and her care, commitment, and ability to bring reality into the room were palpable. She was a magnet for good energy, and everywhere she went, she created circles of friendship: in the kibbutz, during her years working as an au pair for an Israeli family in Switzerland, at university, and even in Degania, when visiting her grandparents. When she and Robi parted ways about a year and a half ago, Carmel set out on a new path. She returned to the kibbutz, planned a trip to India, and intended to come back for the final year of her master’s degree. During that time, she also supported Uri, her first serious boyfriend from the end of high school, as he faced the challenges of his illness. Quietly and creatively, she accompanied him, his wife, and their children until the very end. Throughout her life, Carmel maintained a deep curiosity for people, places, and ideas. She traveled extensively in Israel and around the world, sometimes alone, sometimes with friends and family. Her special bond with her parents was also reflected in the trips she took with them, together and individually. In recent years, she visited India more frequently, returning to the same village she had stumbled upon during the pandemic. She was always learning something new—Feldenkrais, yoga, and various therapeutic methods. In the past few years, she took courses in Arabic, history, and Israeli geography, often alongside her mother, Kinneret, who was proud when Carmel's grades were higher than hers. Carmel read voraciously and loved listening to podcasts and music in all kinds of styles, so she was always seen with headphones. And she loved to dance, drink wine, and enjoy a beer by the sea. About four years ago, Gefen was born to Alon and Yarden, becoming the new focal point of the family’s connection. The frequency of family gatherings increased accordingly, and Carmel was a joyful aunt, constantly coming up with a thousand ways to entertain and play with Gefen, testing her flexibility, reading her stories. It was the same on that Saturday morning. The kids were either about to leave or had just returned from abroad, making it a particularly joyous gathering. Carmel and Alon were getting ready for a run—their new shared hobby. Instead, they found themselves in the bomb shelter. Carmel was reading Gefen a story when the terrorists entered the house. Kinneret was taken and murdered near the house. Alon, Gefen, and Yarden were kidnapped in one car, while Carmel was taken in another. She was supposed to be released two days after Yarden, but the deal fell through. The family threw themselves into the fight for the hostages' release, becoming leaders in protests, media outreach, and rallying public opinion in Israel and around the world. Facing the daily challenge of bringing up the issue of the hostages again and again, without giving up, they held onto the belief that Carmel would hold on until her release. The birthday celebration in the square and the Friday yoga sessions held across Israel and the world made Carmel a symbol of the struggle. After 50 days of uncertainty about Carmel’s fate, Alma and Noam Or, who were kidnapped with her, returned from captivity. Inspired by Carmel, they kept a daily journal, practiced meditation, and did yoga as a way to maintain their mental and physical health. They shared how Carmel had been their guardian angel, as if her entire life had prepared her for the incredible ability to survive, support, heal, and be a pillar of strength in the darkness of Hamas captivity. They also revealed that Carmel had seen her mother murdered because the car she was in drove right by the scene. For 328 days in captivity, Carmel didn’t know what had happened to the rest of her family. Carmel was a unique blend of softness, warmth, compassion, and love, combined with intellectual curiosity and endless inquisitiveness. She knew how to break conventions while maintaining the freedom to live life her way, always attuned to her own body and soul, as well as those of others. She had a natural, healing presence, a deep and understanding gaze, a captivating smile, a ponytail and curls, and the strength to stand tall, embodying the spirit of her mother, Kinneret—a whole world that came to an end after just 40 years. May her memory be blessed. Back 16.05.1984 - 29.08.2024 40 years old

Adi Dagan Life Story Adi was born in June 1955 to Avraham (Buda) and Genusia Dagan, the third child after Oshri and Anat. Buda, who continued working on the harvester into old age and Genusia, the legendary “mother” of bookkeeping, were among the founders of Kibbutz Be’eri. If we had mountains, they’d be carved into the face of them like Mount Rushmore. It’s a good thing they were spared the sights of destruction in the kibbutz. Adi was one of the three babies born that June, along with Tzafrir and Ishai. A beautiful boy, walking around barefoot on the sidewalks, in a white tank top and gym shorts with an elastic waistband or a Speedo bathing suit. He soon grew into a tall and solid boy, an athlete, a little mischievous and an excellent student. His classmates from the Kitat Tzabar all knew: he was the king. He was the smartest, the fastest, the best ping pong player during the summer vacation, the best at chess even before Yiftah David, the best at everything. He was a king who didn’t want to rule. At 16, he joined his family on a mission to Nicaragua, studying at an American school and eventually returning to Be’eri with two foreign languages, English and Spanish. His former throne was restored to him. Adi enlisted in the IDF in 1973, after the war. He originally wanted to be a combat pilot, but became a diver instead. He served for four years in the elite naval unit Shayetet 13. In his modest way, he seemed astonished that he made it through the course. His friends in the Shayetet called him “Adish” (a play on words using his name, Adi, and the Hebrew word adish , which means indifferent) and described how they used to come back utterly worn out from training, but Adi would immerse himself in the newspaper. He always knew and remembered everything. During his mandatory service, his unit was involved in fighting terrorist organizations in Lebanon. In the reserves, he participated in "Operation Moses" rescuing Ethiopian Jews from Sudan. The camaraderie of the fighters from the “Frogs 13” (tzfarda’ei 13 ), as they called themselves, remained steadfast throughout his whole life. At the end of his military service, he returned home for a year. He did agricultural work, and used to mock his dubious skills as a farmer. In the same year, he joined grades 11 and 12 on a trip to Sinai as a graduate chaperone. Hadas, his future wife, was also a chaperone on the trip. Although they grew up on the same kibbutz, it was only then that they really met. When he wrote to her from South America saying, "Come if you can!" Hadas did, not before receiving permission to go at a meeting of the kibbutz members. Adi and Hadas shared 43 years of marriage. They were two people who were so different yet similar, who complemented each other. They had four children: Guy, Noa, Zohar and Sa'ar. Adi went on to study economics at Ben Gurion University. Over the years he worked in various financial positions on the kibbutz, including accounting and management, and then for twenty years as the CFO for Be’eri Print, which grew by leaps and bounds to become a leading printing service in Israel. At the same time, he remained deeply involved in the financial management of the kibbutz, participating in various ad hoc committees that were established to handle retirement funds, social benefits and much more. Adi was always cheerful, modest, conscientious and honest. He stood by his opinions even at the cost of disagreements with his colleagues, yet without losing his temper. As he got closer to retirement, he made sure of an orderly transfer of responsibilities, was careful not to cast too great a shadow, and made himself available to the company as needed. Adi worked long hours and was not always available to play with his kids. He may not have been very expressive about his emotions, but he instilled in his children an absolute confidence in his love for them. In his implicit way, without words, he continued the legacy of Buda and Genusia: work, commitment and finding contentment in the little things. Adi and Hadas traveled often, both in Israel and abroad. After all, they had met on a trip to Sinai, and trips were an integral part of their family life as well. They walked the Israel National Trail with friends, and when they went abroad, Adi planned each excursion meticulously. As one could see at a glance, Adi loved to eat and was a great cook. When he retired, he reinvented himself. He learned to make cocktails and became the barman of choice at the pub on Desperate Housewives nights. He joined the Ramcafe staff behind the espresso machine and was an attentive and enthusiastic barista. He learned some magic tricks on YouTube to entertain the children. He had much more time to read up on the news, everything from current events to celebrity trivia and sports. He rooted for the Golden State Warriors and Steph Curry and knew everything about them. He read and listened to people on the opposite side of the political spectrum, even Channel 14, because he believed that it was important to hear from those you disagree with. Despite suffering from back pain, he always did his 50 lengths in the pool every day, and never missed a Friday walk with Harel (and the opportunity to continue the eternal debate of Golani vs. the Shayetet). He took up drawing, making sure to come to class once a week, and took his grandchildren with him when he decided to draw the view from the observation point overlooking the fields. Adi’s grandchildren were the most important venture in this chapter of his life. His devoted grandfatherhood earned him a new nickname: "Sabadush.” To the amazement of his children, Sabadush discovered the pleasures of babysitting. But instead of putting the tots to sleep, he sang to them Galgalatz hits and held magic shows. Upon his retirement, he joined the "Road to Recovery" organization. Every Thursday, he and Hadas would transport Palestinian patients from Tarqumiyah Crossing and the Erez checkpoint to hospitals in Israel. Adi was brutally murdered on Saturday, October 7, 2023. He was 68 years old. Our Dush, our king without a crown. Rest in peace. Back 03.06.1955 - 07.10.2023 68 years old

Noya Sharabi Life Story Noya was always a mature girl, compared to her peers in ‘Afarsek’ class (‘peach’, the name of her year group in the kibbutz). A good and diligent student, a protective sister to Yahel, she loved to cook Middle Eastern food with her grandmother. From the age of 14 she volunteered to work with children in the kibbutz who had difficulties, because she wanted to help those who were less fortunate than herself. She easily formed a relationship with the children and dreamed of working in the field of education and becoming a kindergarten teacher. She was attentive to people, and would write birthday wishes, and obituaries for memorial services. Music was part of Noya's life. She liked to go to concerts with friends. Not long before her death she went with the whole family to a concert by Hanan Ben Ari, whom the four of them really loved. Lianne, Noya and Yahel were murdered on Saturday morning, October 7, 2023. May her memory be blessed. Back 01.10.2007 - 07.10.2023 16 years old

Shoshana Karasanti Life Story 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

Marcelle Freilich Life Story Marcelle was born in Morocco to Hannah and Nissim Medina, in the spring of 1959. Marcelle was the thirteenth of fourteen brothers and sisters. In 1962, when Marcelle was three years old, the Medina family moved to Israel and lived in a ‘ma’abara’, or transit camp, near Beer Sheva. From there they moved to their permanent residence in the city’s Daled neighborhood. Her mother was a homemaker and her father worked in a factory. From a young age, Marcelle was a curious, studious girl, and an excellent student. Her teachers at the religious-public school she attended always gave her additional assignments so that she would not get bored. As a girl she would gather the younger children from the neighborhood and teach them. She was a teacher in her very essence, a teacher above all else. Marcelle was also an amazing sister and aunt. In her youth she was a sought-after babysitter for her nieces and nephews, and would run between the houses of her brothers and sisters. She loved her family very much and they loved her. As a high school student, Marcelle fell in love with chemistry. Even then she knew that she would go on to learn chemistry at university. She was accepted to studies with a scholarship for excellence, and completed her bachelor’s and master’s degrees at Ben Gurion University. The hardworking Marcelle decided early on in her academic path that she would be “something”. Her children say how important it was to her to put in the work toward significant achievements, with chemistry and education her passions. Marcelle completed her PhD in the department for scientific teaching at the Weizmann Institute of Science. In her doctoral work and ongoing research she aspired to make scientific knowledge accessible to middle school and high school students in Israel, to raise the profile of scientific subjects and make the sciences in general and chemistry in particular an attractive subject that students would want to choose and study. And indeed, in her many years as a teacher, Marcelle was beloved, respected, and adored. Anyone who was her student — loved her and loved chemistry. In recent years, Marcelle worked at the Davidson Institute of Weizmann, training future teachers in the field of science. Mor, Marcelle’s eldest daughter, says that Marcelle was a real “performer”. She was multi-talented and loved the stage: folk dancing, reading texts, standing before a class and teaching, lecturing at international conferences. She never did anything off-hand, she always took preparation for every task very seriously. And many at Be'eri would certainly remember Marcelle onstage singing, dancing and playing the main role in “My Fair Lady” which was produced in honor of Be'eri’s 40th anniversary. Marcelle, who grew up in a very religious household, was always different and independent-minded, preferred slacks over skirts. Her father never imposed his opinions on his children, nor did she on hers. Marcelle, who was traditional in her own way, left it up to her children to choose how to live and what they thought was best for themselves. Marcelle married Nuriel and they lived in the village Tzohar. In 1981, their eldest daughter, Mor, was born. Two years later, Mancher — then the school principal — was looking for a chemistry teacher. He came by van to Tzohar, drove the young family to see Be'eri, and assured Marcelle that she had nothing to worry about, she would not need to be separated from Mor as they were soon transitioning to family housing. And so the family arrived in Be'eri and fell in love with the kibbutz life in general, and Be'eri in particular. The family grew. Amit was born in Be'eri in 1985, and Ziv in 1988. Marcelle became the ultimate kibbutznik. She showed up for all duties and was active on many committees out of a desire to contribute to her community. Still, she turned down the position of kibbutz secretary, which was offered to her multiple times, because she preferred to study and to develop in her professional field. The next chapter of her life, Marcelle built with Dror — “Drori” Ben Ruhama, with whom she was set up by Ayelet Godard. Marcelle and Drori met and knew at once that this was forever. They had an amazing partnership and deep bond. Both curious and studious, they loved to travel together, learned and adhered to the Rambam diet and felt healthy and vital both physically and mentally. On Saturday, October 7th, the two locked themselves in their safe room. Marcelle was messaging with her children, her relatives and her many friends. She was worried about Ziv, who was in his own safe room with Shahar, reported the shootings, the shouting, the fear of the terrorists in her home. She felt that they had been abandoned and was angry. At 10:30am, all contact with her ceased. Her beloved Drori, so significant and dear to the whole family, was also killed. Marcelle meant the world to her children. A diminutive woman, she possessed a huge personality. Beautiful, well put together and well-dressed, she always looked young, to the point that anyone who saw her and Amit together could not believe she was his mother. She was a woman with a zest for life, energetic and optimistic. There was no challenge that came her way that she could not handle. Her children say that she always knew how to guide them through life, taught them to separate the wheat from the chaff and to aim for something that was truly good for them. “She gave us the confidence that we could do anything. Mom was an anchor for us, a voice of wisdom who was always there for us, the pillar of the family,” said Mor, Amit and Ziv. “Mom showered us with love and we were blessed to have a wonderful and beloved mother, which we told her a lot in her life.” “My WhatsApp is full of hearts that I sent her,” says Ziv. Marcelle was a loving and dedicated grandmother to her four grandchildren: Ben, Lee, Niv and Anne. It is terribly sad that she will not get to see them grow up. Marcelle is no longer with us but her spirit remains — her powerful spirit and drive to live and to develop, to get out of hell and strive to live a good and happy life and thus fill the hole in the heart. And then… Marcelle will dance and smile in heaven. May her memory be a blessing. Back 27.4.1959 - 07.10.2023 64 years old

Ziv Shopen Life Story Ziv was born in Beersheva on October 23rd, 1967, four months after the end of the Six-Day War. Eldest son of Nicole and Eli – new immigrants from Tunisia. When he was a year old, his sister Dganit was born and when he was six, his sister Shani joined the family. He was a very happy child, smiling and bright, always surrounded by friends. Handsome. People around him would whisper, "He looks so much like Shlomo Artzi ..." As the big brother, he looked out for his younger sisters who from an early age felt that Ziv was a kind of "mini manager". Dganit and Shani cannot forget the day that he met a boy who was irritating one of them and approached him, not threatening, not shouting, he did not try to get rid of him but simply quoted a line from a song (not Shlomo Artzi's) – " You and I will change the world". Ziv arrived at Be'eri almost by chance. He and his sister Dganit attended the Yeelim School in Beersheva which was situated next to the Youth Aliyah building. One day, the two of them entered the building instead of going to school. Both children felt a special connection to the kibbutz movement perhaps because their father, Eli, who at the age of eight had made Aliyah to Israel alone, had joined the movement originally in Givat HaShlosha and then in Kibbutz Einat. There, in the Youth Aliyah building in Beersheva, they underwent entrance examinations to kibbutzim and, some time later, their surprised parents received an official letter in the post: Ziv was accepted by Kibbutz Be'eri and Dganit by Afikim. So, in 10th grade, Ziv joined the Class of 1983 (Irit) in Be'eri. This was the first class on the kibbutz which included "outsiders", and from the very first moment he integrated into the class and the kibbutz as though he had been born there. His presence, with his tight curly hair, his big smile and green eyes, was felt everywhere. This is where he met Emily, a volunteer from England, the love of his life. ("In your own way, you changed my life" she eulogised, when told he had been killed). In the army, he served in Battalion 890 of the Paratroopers Brigade, and made them proud. He had so many nicknames and private jokes about himself and the things that he did, that no one knows if they really happened or not. Like the story where he "called times" for his soldiers without even wearing a watch, or the party in Kfar Giladi to which he made an entrance on the roof of a command car. Or the story of a young Ziv who, reaching an artillery support base in Lebanon in the late 1980s was made to spin round on the spot and call out numbers for the older soldiers playing backgammon without a dice. Over time serving in the reserves they called him "Mozart," the guy who conducted and oversaw the soldiers' off-duty experiences, the unity and morale of the troops. After the army, Ziv returned to the kibbutz and went off to the Far East for 18 months. He loved to travel, mostly alone, but made friends with other travelers in the countries he visited, finding out where they grew up and attempting to learn their languages. These trips made him happy. In Japan, for instance, he got to know a family and developed a special bond. Some years later, they visited Be'eri at his invitation. When he returned from traveling, he studied refrigeration and air conditioning engineering and worked in the kibbutz, in charge of installing A/C units for all the older members who loved and appreciated him very much. He habitually attended the Friday afternoon football games for the youngsters on the kibbutz lawn and later in the evening hung out at the Be'eri pub. Ziv did not marry nor did he have children. His sisters’ children were like his own. They used to visit him for relaxing kibbutz weekends and he would take them out on trips – to sail or swim in Jaffa port, to eat shawarma in town or to visit a Bedouin tent where he had friends. He never ceased to be interested in the roots and history of his extended family, never stopped researching and collecting more and more information about the "Shopen Dynasty". He was a very proud uncle at his nephew Ben's recent barmitzvah. Ziv, a devoted Hapoel Beersheva fan, arranged for a film of the team's players congratulating Ben to be screened at the party and emotionally accompanied his nephew at the traditional Torah service. To Ziv, the immigrant child, the eternal child, the sensitive songwriter, who loved Be'eri more than anything, the kibbutz was his life. The community was his family. On the morning of that black shabbat, he was in Tel Aviv enjoying his weekend espresso. When he realized that terrorists were endangering Be'eri, he got into his car and drove home. He was stopped at four roadblocks. At each one the security forces recommended that he turn around and return to Tel Aviv. Four times he refused. Four times he continued to drive. Even when the road was blocked by abandoned vehicles, Ziv did not give up and ran on foot towards Be'eri. He succeeded in reaching the kibbutz gate, took a weapon from one of the dead terrorists lying on the grass and ran towards the dining room. He engaged in fire. Attempted to save lives. There, he fell. Ziv Shopen died in the battle for the kibbutz, which was his entire world. Two weeks before his fifty-sixth birthday. It had been four decades since he arrived at the kibbutz. On the floor of his house, among the empty rifle cartridges, lay the book "1000 Places to See Before You Die". May his memory be a blessing. Back 23.10.1967 - 07.10.2023 56 years old

Rafi Svirsky Life Story Rafi was born in Tel Aviv on March 10, 1952 to Ezra and Aviva and was preceded by his elder sister, Irit. His mother, Aviva, fled Germany with her parents as a child shortly before the Nazis came to power. His father, Ezra, made Aliyah from Vilnius, a town located on what was then the border between Russia and Poland. Rafi grew up in Tel Aviv on Rothschild Boulevard in the days when, in the words of the Hebrew song, the city was just “a lonely house on the shore.” Even years after leaving Tel Aviv, it remained a second home for him and he would visit at least once a week to soak up the streets of his childhood. Rafi studied at the Hasmonean Elementary School and from there he went on to study electronics at the Ironi Aleph high school. At the age of thirteen he joined the Scouts movement and was part of the “Kehilah” troop. It was there that he became attracted to the issue of social justice, the pioneering settler spirit and stories of heroism from the War of Independence. Rafi came from a bourgeois home, but he adopted a socialist way of thinking and planned to join the Nahal-Fighting Pioneer Youth as soon as he was old enough. In the Scouts, he took upon himself leadership roles and was a dominant figure in his age group. Rafi was a quiet leader, good looking, tall and strong. He excelled in mathematics. He was hard working and seen as a bit of a geek, but he was also the best soccer player in his year and would play on the roof of the Scout troop’s building. Rafi was a walking encyclopedia of soccer players. His good friends were the most important thing to him and they loved him. He also had a deep love for animals and he built the most lavish petting zoo in the city. In his final year of high school, as part of a group of scouts enlisting in Nahal, he visited Kibbutz Be’eri for the first time. It was then that he met Orit. She was chatty; he was a quiet type. The love between them was instant. When he completed his studies in chemistry and economics at the Hebrew University in Jerusalem – after a few, unsuccessful attempts at not being together – Rafi and Orit married and went on a post-army trip to the Far East. Their twins, Yoni and Meirav were born in Givatayim as Rafi and Orit had decided they would not return to the kibbutz until it stopped the practice of children living in a children’s home, separate from their parents. This finally happened when the twins were three and the family returned to Be’eri. Shortly afterward, Itai was born, and Yuval followed four years later. During his time on the kibbutz with the “Abir” Nahal group, Rafi worked in the fields. When he returned from his studies, he worked at the printing press on a computerized printing machine and later in the accounting department, ultimately serving as treasurer and CFO of the press. Rafi served as the kibbutz secretary and later as kibbutz treasurer. Even after he had stepped down, he continued to manage members’ pensions. They knew that Rafi would always be there to solve their problems, with individual attention to everyone. Rafi devoted himself to his children. They would go to the beach at Zikim at the weekends, on skiing holidays, he would take them to tennis lessons, basketball practice and on cycling trips. Being a father was always his top priority; he would completely identify with his kids. He was always the first to come to Meirav’s exhibitions, a proud father like no other. Even after he and Orit separated, the family and children remained the most important thing to them. They found special and inspiring ways to maintain friendship and solidarity. The same went for the extended family. Rafi would turn up on every holiday with a bottle of wine, a box of chocolates and a handwritten greeting for Orit’s parents, who continued to see him as a son. Rafi also enjoyed being a grandfather to seven-year-old Eilam, four-and-a-half-year-old Keinan, and Dror, who is ten months old. Over the last summer, the connection between Rafi and his grandchildren grew stronger; he would host them at his house in the way only he could, with steaks, special desserts and time spent watching football. Rafi was a man of integrity and values, and his word was his bond. He was someone who made everyone around him wish to duplicate his integrity. He was, at the same time, both analytical and warm: respectful and caring for others. While a man of few words, Rafi was a man of deeds and took care of everyone. He was highly political, believed in hope and the duty to fight for a better world. He believed that everyone should have a chance. That was the way he educated his children. When Rafi spoke, the room would fall quiet, and everyone awaited his words of wisdom. Culture and art enriched his life – he would attend the annual jazz festival in Eilat, would never miss films at the Sderot cinematheque, operas at the Tel Aviv Opera, and concerts of the Israel Philharmonic. Sport was another significant part of his life; he would follow tennis and swimming tournaments and particularly loved track-and-field. Rafi always carried a book with him and would read four books at the same time, dividing his reading during the day by prose, poetry, non-fiction and English-language. His home was a library that just kept growing and growing. Rafi always kept dogs. His three Golden Retrievers were soulmates. His friends recall how he would go out for walks with them, a book in hand and his three dogs running around him. They were murdered with him on that day that we will never recover from. Four and a half years ago, Rafi suffered a sudden, massive heart attack. As he lay in intensive care, his family was warned that he might not survive. He spent three days hovering between life and death. After he emerged from the experience, Rafi understood that this was a turning point in his life. He chose to live to the fullest; he was brimming with joy, became even closer to his family, his grandchildren, his good friends from the past and took part in social reunions of his scout group and his time at Ironi Aleph. The unforgivable, inhumane separation from Rafi that was forced upon us with such cruelty is something we will never be able to come to terms with. Rafi’s unique qualities will live on in his children and grandchildren and the large group of people who loved him. Those qualities, which we have adopted and which have become a part of us, will keep him close to us, within us, always. May his memory be a blessing. Back 10.03.1952 - 07.10.2023 71 years old

Matti Weiss Life Story 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

Rafael (Rafi) Mordo Life Story Rafi Mordo was born in Tel Aviv on November 28th, 1938, less than a year before the outbreak of the Second World War, and was destined to live a life full of twists and turns. A truthful speaker, often painfully so, generous in deeds, economical in words. His father, Menachem, was born in Corfu, Greece, from where the rest of the family would be taken to the Nazi death camps. His mother, Rosa, was from Italy. He said little about his childhood, but he was a mischievous child, and at the age of eight, he paid a heavy price for it: during a game in which participants threw a knife or dagger into the ground to demarcate land areas, a dagger ricocheted back towards him and he lost his left eye. Rafi typically refused to pity himself and boasted until his last day that despite his one good eye, he never received a traffic ticket. He loved driving. He was the second of four children. His sister, Racheline, is still with us. His younger brother, Yitzhak (Chaim), fell in 1961 as a paratrooper, a loss he never forgot. Only last April, he wrote on the IDF fallen soldiers' website: "Years have passed since you left, but your image is engraved in my heart, my little brother." The youngest in the family, Rivka, was perhaps the closest to him. A traditional Greek – beautiful and vibrant – she died of cancer, which greatly saddened him. At the age of 14 or 15, he came to Be’eri as a member of a Youth Aliyah group. In the kibbutz, Rafi found a home he would never leave. He was a handsome youth who would grow into an impressive man. He rarely spoke about his military service, except for one anecdote: in a rookie tent where he slept, there was a guy who was taken from there to a military band whose name happened to be Arik Einstein. Rafi participated in the Six-Day and Yom Kippur Wars, but he never talked about it. After the army, he returned to the kibbutz and married Etti, who was in the original Youth Aliyah group that came to the kibbutz. Kibbutz life and manual labor suited Rafi. He worked initially in auto mechanics and later in the Be’eri print shop. He was diligent, respected, and loved his work very much. His golden hands built beds and cupboards for many kibbutz members. Within a few years, Tmira and Sapir were born. From Tmira, who still lives on the kibbutz, he had three grandchildren – Roy, Gil, and Tomer, with Roy and Tomer still living in the kibbutz, and Gil living in Germany providing him with his first great-grandchild – 6-year-old Vega. Sapir moved to the United States, where he had two daughters - Alex and Inbar. Rafi and Etti were married for thirty years. Rafi was a caring and devoted family man. For a relative or friend, he would do everything, but always in his unique way: straightforward and speaking his mind. "He could get up from lunch, leaving it behind uneaten, to drive someone who had asked for help." The balance between loyalty and criticism was also evident in his attitude towards the kibbutz. Every day he argued about the implications of privatization, complaining vigorously about the value members receive from their taxes, but he always remained a Be’eri member. He was also never concerned with the security situation in the area. In his later years, his caregiver, Tzionah, a resident of Netivot whom he greatly appreciated, helped him. At the age of 85, Rafi was not considered a nursing-care candidate, and her support for him focused on laundry, company, and help walking to the dining room, where he met Tmira every day at exactly 11:30. Tzionah also had his last phone conversation with him. He told her that his neighborhood had been attacked and terrorists had broken into the house. Rafi was critical and stubborn, but he was the first to stand by someone in distress. His life was characterized by complex romantic and family relationships comprising toughness, tenderness and a strong need for intimacy. He was critical but also committed in an unbounded way to others. Diligent, stubborn, talented, and possessing golden hands. May his memory be blessed. Back 28.11.1938 - 07.10.2023 84 years old

Dana Bachar Life Story Dana was born in the winter of 1975 on Kibbutz Gesher HaZiv. She was the first child of Esti and Yehonatan Schlossberg and sister to Einat, Karmit, and Yuval. Early on, she took on the role of the responsible adult, a kibbutznik through and through. She was diligent, had a great work ethic, and took jobs in gardening, in the dining hall, and eventually with children, the latter becoming her calling and life's calling. She chose graphics for her elective in high school. At the same time, she became a counselor in the HaNoar HaOved VeHaLomed (The Working and Studying Youth) youth movement. Her students were captivated by her warmth: she embraced everyone like members of her own family. Dana loved Israeli folk dancing, a hobby she kept up her entire life. In 11th grade, she and some friends were returning from a dance and while stopping at the kibbutz gate, the girls asked the names of the soldiers who were guarding it. Among them was Avida. Ten minutes later, Dana came back and asked his name again. They were never apart since. For her military service, Dana joined the Meron Air Surveillance Base, and from there continued to an extended service. After finishing, she joined Avida in Be'eri. They eventually moved to Tel Aviv, where Avida completed his matriculation while Dana worked at Gan Ziona, a kibbutz-style kindergarten in the heart of the big city. The couple's next stop was South America. In 1995, they set out with a twin sleeping bag and a tent. They hitchhiked through the entire continent. When the temperature fell below -20 and 'AviDana' – their nickname – realized they could no longer sleep outdoors, they befriended some locals who invited them to stay. As soon as it got warmer, Avida began fishing while Dana photographed flowers. Next, they spent a year and a half in New York, where Dana once again worked in childcare. When Avida and Dana returned to Israel, they settled in Be'eri. They were married in the summer of 2000 at the kibbutz pool. They had three sons – Rotem, Nofar, and Carmel – followed by daughter Hadar. Dana was a loving, devoted, and protective mother, able to adapt to each of her children's characters. Carmel, for example, demanded that she kiss him only twice a day. Their home was warm and fun, part of the large Bachar family. When Dana's sister Einat started a family in Be'eri, the two of them became known as The Schlossberg Sisters, a pair who always made their opinions known if something was wrong in their view. Dana operated at her own speed. She worked slowly and methodically but was never late. She loved good food, enjoyed restaurants, family ski trips, and travel. She and Avida had a respectful, touching, and caring relationship. On Friday afternoons, they had a private ritual: Avida would drive through the fields while Dana napped to the sound of Israeli folk songs. On Sabbat morning of October 7th, the Bachar family went into the safe room. Avida and Hadar were injured but survived. Before she said her final goodbye, Dana managed to get out: "I love everyone and have no hard feelings towards anyone." She was 48 when she died. May her memory be blessed. Back 30.01.1975 - 07.10.2023 48 years old

Ido Even Life Story Ido was born in Kibbutz Be'eri two years after Alon. He was a bright, passionate child, agile, smart and kind. He had a wonderful sense of humor. Even when engaged by something, he would have one ear listening to conversations taking place alongside him and utter witty responses that amazed everyone around. Ido loved soccer and played for the "Eshkol" soccer team. He was also an avid fan of Maccabi Tel Aviv. A year before his death, Ido celebrated a communal kibbutz bar mitzvah with his classmates and relished the event. Handsome and mischievous, he inherited his mother Rinat’s “lopsided” grin and love of life and simple joy in everything he did. The Even family home was warm and inviting. Chen took care of the children. They were the center of his universe and his pride and joy. Rinat took care of the whole world, always available, always compassionate. The Even family home was a center of support and love for the kibbutz. Humble, surrounded by friends, loving and loved by all. Tomer and Nir, an entire kibbutz stands with you together. Forever. Ido Even was 14 at the time of his death. May his memory be a blessing. Back 14.05.2009 - 07.10.2023 14 years old

Tal Bira Life Story Tal was born on December 27, 1961 in Moshav Avigdor near Kiryat Malachi, the second child of Avigdor and Rivka. His father worked as a farmer in the moshav, and his mother nurtured the family, creating a space of warmth, a bosom of joy and calm for the children - Batia, Tal and Amit. The fields, the spaces and the sense of family cohesion gave Tal his roots. When Tal was five years old, the parents decided to make their home in Be’eri, where Rivka had spent her early years as a ‘yaldat-hutz’ (a child raised on the kibbutz though her parents did not live there). His younger brother Oron was born there. The transition to the kibbutz was not easy. The sensitive child suddenly found himself in the noisy company of other children. He had difficulty adjusting to the shared accommodation, and stood on the sidelines in his age group, which was named ‘Dagan’. Little by little, he managed to carve out a place for himself where he could express his talents. With his golden hands, which he inherited from his father, he fixed and operated various things. Thanks to his natural playfulness, he stood out as an actor in plays. Tal looked forward to family gatherings on Saturdays, the feeling of togetherness that brought moments of happiness and gave him a renewed sense of the anchor that had become weaker. He especially loved the family's Shabbat treks, going out to the areas around the kibbutz with a pique blanket and food in backpacks. He dedicated himself to taking care of the family's wolfhounds. After his military service in the Artillery Corps, Tal left the kibbutz for a year, and worked at a fledgling kibbutz, Retamim. He was welcomed with open arms as a kibbutznik with experience in a variety of jobs and with the same golden hands that were mentioned earlier. It was a happy and meaningful time, but when it ended, Tal preferred to return to Be’eri. For him, the kibbutz was the place that the poet Zelda described so well: "The house is a partner / in the revelry of the sky / the sun throws inside / its burning gold/, and the night/ overwhelms it with starry darkness." Tal was a kibbutznik who saw work as a sacred value. He worked in various branches of the kibbutz, including gardening and the garage. Thus, he had the opportunity to get to know the kibbutz from different angles. He had sharp criticism, along with a great love that he was able to express in the films he created. In addition to his work, Tal had many hobbies. He was a true autodidact. Thus, his hobbies went beyond the limits of the concept of a hobby and became professional. He participated in film studies at Sha’ar HaNegev, and became the unofficial photographer of the family and the kibbutz. He was there, behind the camera, at cultural events, bar mitzvah videos, family gatherings, and he added his special touch. He jealously guarded the collection of films he made about the kibbutz and was going to leave them to his nieces and nephews. Tal also found an interest in clocks - ancient and rare clocks that were made by a craftsman’s hands, with complicated mechanisms, which required his expertise to operate them. He studied the mechanics of each watch, studied its history, and knew where to find the tiny parts required to repair it. He participated in conferences that dealt with the field, and on his last trip abroad he was the guest of several Swiss watchmakers. He returned from that trip motivated and happy, with plans to expand his collection. Another of Tal’s passions was cooking. For him, cooking became a work of art, done after considering the ingredients of the dish and also the cultural background in which it was created. No wonder he specialized in cakes and desserts, a field that requires the knowledge and precision of a scientist, along with a rich imagination. Tal created his own culinary language. At every family gathering he knew how to surprise with a new dish or pastry. The love for cooking introduced Tal to Persian cuisine and opened a new world to him - the world of Persian culture. As usual, he began to study the subject comprehensively, and researched the origins of the culture and its customs. He read books written by Iranian authors and watched films by Iranian directors. He liked to set a table with a variety of Persian delicacies and became a member of Facebook communities of Iranian expatriates. The connection he felt was strong, so much so that he requested in his will that his funeral ceremony be conducted by a rabbi of Persian origin. Tal surrounded himself with an extended family and was its warm heart, a heart always open for each of its members. He had a special bond with his brothers and sister, and also with his nephews and nieces. They were a source of pride for him, and he knew how to be a supportive place of love for them. With extraordinary sensitivity, he knew how to set aside time and attention for everyone. He knew how to express his love through special gifts he created and in pampering and surprising breakfast meals on Shabbat, those little things that create a warm and cohesive human experience. Tal was a proud human being, with an abundant soul. Two weeks before his death, on the eve of Yom Kippur, Tal wrote on Facebook: “May we know how to hurt less throughout the year, to be more sensitive and more attentive and respectful of others. Even if it doesn't always match our way.” Tal was murdered on October 7, 2023, in the terrorist attack against Be’eri and the towns and villages around the Gaza Strip. His brother Oron and his family were also murdered that Saturday. May his memory and the memory of the entire family be blessed. Back 27.12.1961 - 07.10.2023 62 years old