For over a year, darkness and evil have tried to overpower goodness and light. Yet, with an entire army of kindness soldiers, among the people of Israel who refuse to break, hope remains steadfast—and with it, the promise of a better ending.
Twenty-three years ago, when I was ten, my brother Koby and his friend Yosef Ishran were murdered by Palestinian terrorists who stoned them to death. They were only 14. I vividly remember the moment my father came to deliver the devastating news. “Dad, you don’t joke about things like that,” I told him. It took time to grasp the gravity of the situation and years to internalize the permanence of death.
The first thing my father said after learning the boys were found was, “I won’t let the terrorists destroy my family. I won’t let them win.” That attitude guided us from day one. We were allowed to cry, to be angry, and to grieve—but at the same time, we refused to break. We chose life, holding onto moments of joy and light alongside the pain.
People Keep Giving
Since the war began, my husband has served long days in the reserves, leaving me to spend Shabbat and holidays alone with our children, grappling with uncertainty and a sense of instability. Many mothers this year face the same reality, some due to their spouse’s military service, others because their loved ones were murdered or fell in battle. The pain grows with each family that joins the circle of loss.
Yet, amidst this pain, we can’t ignore the winds of change within our people. Countless individuals continue to give, to volunteer, and to show kindness on a massive scale.
The Struggle Between Light and Darkness
This war represents the ultimate battle between light and darkness—the Jewish people against pure evil seeking our destruction. Facing absolute darkness, we united to bring light. Since Simchat Torah, grassroots initiatives have emerged everywhere, and I have been fortunate to both give and receive within this movement of light.
After my brother’s murder, my parents—Seth and Sherri Mandell—founded the Koby Mandell Foundation, which I now lead. The foundation supports bereaved families through summer camps, holiday events, support groups, and therapeutic meetings. My parents channeled their deep pain into meaningful action, spreading light to others.
This year, as men were called to reserve duty, we stepped up to support the new bereaved families who have joined the circle of grief. We’ve had the honor of being part of the light that fights the darkness, aiming to ease their pain, even just a little.
Bereaved Families: A Source of Strength
Meeting bereaved families is a powerful and humbling experience. My body remembers the pain they now endure, and my empathy runs deep. Each time I meet a new family, my heart breaks anew. Yet, I see their immense strength. Bereaved families are not “pitiable”—a false perception. These are people who wake up each morning, carrying unbearable pain in one hand and hope in the other. They teach us about the tremendous resilience of the Jewish people and the light and strength within us. They didn’t choose this mission, but they bear it with courage, striving to choose life every day.
The line separating us from them is as thin as a thread. We don’t know why some are taken while others remain. Recently, we celebrated Hanukkah—the Festival of Lights. As the candles burned, we could clearly see the profound pain but also the growing light overcoming the surrounding darkness.
We must never forget those who are no longer with us, but we must also continue to believe that goodness will ultimately triumph over evil and that hope is eternal.
The author, Elianna Brenner Mandell, is the CEO of the Koby Mandell Foundation.
