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

Itai Svirsky Life Story 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. Back 17.02.1985 - 13.01.2024 38 years old

Alon Even Life Story Alon was born and raised in Be’eri, Alon was a curious, bright, mature boy, who did not shy away from taking on responsibilities. He was always in the company of friends, unfailingly willing to lend a hand, just like his parents. Alon was a pure, loving soul who was also dearly beloved. He recently took it upon himself to head the bar mitzvah team responsible for organizing the events of the most significant year in the lives of the Bnei Be'eri Junior High students. When he reached the appropriate age, he started frequenting the gym and lifting weights. He grew taller quickly, yet even after turning into a strong young man, he remained gentle, polite, and sensitive, qualities he shared with his parents. This year, he got his ATV license, and following his dad's lead, went on off-road trips with his buggy. The Even household was warm, welcoming, and hospitable. Chen took care of the kids; they were his pride and joy. Rinat took care of everyone, always available, always empathic. Their house was a source of love and support for the entire kibbutz. They were humble and constantly surrounded by friends. They loved everyone and everyone loved them back. Tomer and Nir, an entire kibbutz is standing with you. Forever. Alon was 16 when he died. May his memory be blessed. Back 28.03.2007 - 07.10.2023 16 years old

Ran Sheffer Life Story Ran was born in Neve Monosson on February 22nd, 1975, to parents Miriam and Haim when his sister Lilach was six years old. Miriam had a high-risk pregnancy and was hospitalized for a long time while expecting Ran. He was born a month early and placed in an incubator. Despite the difficulties, the expansion of the family brought great joy. Miriam was an elementary-school teacher and educator, and Haim initially worked at the Israel Aerospace Industries and then started a textile factory with a partner in Netivot, to which he commuted daily from Neve Monosson. He was killed in a car accident when Ran was four. In the past, Miriam and Haim had considered living in a small community and relocating to a kibbutz: upon the death of her husband, Miriam decided to make the move. One of Haim’s reservist friends, who was a former member of Be’eri and had previously left the kibbutz, connected her with the administration. When the Sheffer family arrived in Be’eri, Ran joined the “Kalanit Kindergarten”. Since he had trouble adjusting to communal sleeping, his mother slept in the children's house for a whole month. He was part of the “Narkis” class, which was so small that it merged with the class that was one year older, creating the “Tze'elon-Narkis” class. Ran had a lot of friends from his group, with whom he kept in touch over the years; they were like a family to him. Ran had a large scar on his head - a souvenir from his old house in Neve Monosson. While playing with his cousin on the top of his bunk bed, he jumped down to get a piece of LEGO and hurt his head. He was hospitalized for a month and underwent surgery. Ran struggled with his studies, and even before finding out about his learning difficulties and attention deficit issues, his mother understood the situation. Therefore, when high school time came, she found a special school in Ramat Aviv, where he would go day in and day out by bus, and thus, succeeded in graduating from high school. When Ran was 18 years old, his mother passed away. Since he had neither a father nor mother, he wasn’t required to join the army, but he decided to volunteer and serve in the military police. He spent most of his service working as a prison guard. After he was discharged, he went on a long trip in Asia: he visited India and Thailand. He traveled back and forth for years, searching for his place in the world. When he went on a trip to Africa with friends from Be’eri, they returned unexpectedly for a wedding on the kibbutz. Ran continued his travels, but remained in contact with his friends from Be’eri over the years. When he was asked to come to the kibbutz and serve as the dining room manager, he immediately returned to Israel, but within a short time, he resumed his travels in Asia. Then, some 12 years ago, he decided to settle in Israel. He lived in a desert ashram for six months and considered joining the community there, but ultimately chose Be’eri: the kibbutz had always been his home. After being accepted as a member, he started studying and became a refrigeration and air conditioning technician. He worked for years and provided his outstanding service to the Kibbutz. He was always smiling and eager to help. He then worked in construction, and three years ago he once again changed direction and started working as an educator, first in the daycare center, and then in the kibbutz school. He wasn’t an educator by nature or by training, but he was driven by love. In 2010, during a festival in the desert ashram, Ran met Galit, a native of Kfar Saba. They got married a few months later, and Be’eri became Galit’s home as well. In 2013, they had a daughter named Emily. Zoe was born in 2015, and Nia joined the family in 2019. In 2022, Galit and Ran separated. Ran deeply loved his daughters, and they loved him dearly. He was a devoted father, always there for them, taking care of everything they needed and desired. He took them on trips, swimming, bowling, and played board games with them. Another beloved activity was tickling... If he had his way, he would spend time only with his daughters and not engage in anything else. Ran and his sister Lilach, who also lived on Be’eri, shared a strong bond. Lilach had gut instincts about him. She was worried when he travelled to Asia, but she knew that was what he wanted. Just as she awaited his birth for years, she waited for his return. When Ran wasn’t sure how to handle or what to do about something, he would consult with Lilach. A year before his death, Ran lost his childhood friend, Gal Milles. They were like brothers: very close and connected. Gal’s death from cancer broke Ran’s heart. Ran was mostly known as “Chepale”, but no one remembers where the nickname came from. "In our family", says Lilach, "there were some who called him 'Roncho', and Galit’s family called him 'Sheffer'. Ran barely remembered his father, but everyone said he looked a lot like him, both in mannerisms and speech". Ran used to practice meditation. In India, he discovered and fell in love with trance music and festivals, and these parties became his main hobby. On October 6, 2023, Ran went to the party in Re’im. People saw him there, smiling and happy. A few hours later he was murdered. When it was known that Ran had died, people who had met him at the festival reached out to Lilach and told her he had made his way into their hearts. That’s how Ran was - a free spirit. Emotion is what led him. A loving person, who enjoyed dancing. Always smiling, always good, always optimistic. Ran brought joy into this world. Friends who were with him at the festivals said he mentioned this was exactly how he wanted to die - at a party. There is no greater contrast between Ran’s path, full of love, joy and parties, and that of his killers, full of hatred and violence. Ran’s path and the immense love he exhibited, will serve as a memory and solace for his daughters Emily, Zoe and Nia, for Galit, for his sister Lilach, and for all his friends. May his memory be blessed. Back 22.02.1975 - 07.10.2023 48 years old

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