It had been a heartwarming Shabbos. When my daughter and son-in-law got married last year, the final Sheva Brachos took place over Shabbos. It was an uplifting weekend that allowed us to connect more personally with my son-in-law’s extended family. We shared the first two meals at shul, but Shalosh S’udos was held in the more intimate setting of our home. After Havdalah, joyful singing broke out. But then, suddenly, it stopped. The celebration turned to tears.
At first, I didn’t understand. Had someone fallen ill? What had happened? Then we were told: Eliyahu Moshe Zimbalist had been killed in combat that morning in Gaza along with seven fellow soldiers from the 601st Battalion in the Givati Brigade when an antitank missile struck their armored vehicle.
Eli Moshe’s family lives in our old neighborhood and are beloved members of our mechutan’s shul. The news came from our mechutan’s son, who had been in the community when the IDF’s Casualty Notification Unit arrived at the Zimbalist home that morning. He called his parents immediately after Shabbos and told them to come home right away. The contrast between the joyous singing, moments before, and the crushing grief that followed could not have been more stark.
Eli Mo, as he was affectionately called, was a 21-year-old chayal who had made aliyah with his family from Silver Spring, Maryland, in 2005, when he was just two years old. In his short life, he touched everyone who knew him.
My niece, Yosefa Schapiro, and her friend, Noa Nachtailer, grew up in Ginot Shomron alongside Eli Mo’s cousins. Through their family connections, they had come to know a few of his sisters. Though neither had known Eli Mo personally, they decided to pay a shiv’ah call to the Zimbalist family.
At the shiv’ah, Yosefa and Noa listened quietly to stories about Eli Mo and witnessed a family facing immense grief with strength and unshakable emunah. They left deeply moved.
On the way home, they spoke about the powerful atmosphere they had just left – how even in the face of tragic loss, the Zimbalist family’s words were filled with unwavering faith and deep love for am Yisrael. The family’s strength inspired them to respond not only with tears but with action. They felt compelled to bring something good into the world in Eli Mo’s memory. They wanted to continue his light.
They talked about how many young soldiers were being killed in this war, boys who had never had the chance to marry or build families of their own. They felt it would be fitting to arrange a shidduch, to help bring new beginnings into a world that felt so full of loss.
Noa mentioned a cousin who was looking for a match. Then, clearly through the hand of Hashem, a name popped into Yosefa’s mind: a boy from their yishuv she had known as a child. She remembered him as a sweet boy, though she had no idea what his life looked like now, or even if he was old enough to date. She hadn’t seen him in years.
Noa, however, knew him from their youth group. She confirmed that he was the right age and that the match had real potential. She reached out.
But the boy was serving in Gaza in the Givati Brigade. Dating was impossible at the time.
Months later, he called Noa. He had returned from Gaza and was ready to date. “Is the girl still available?” he asked. She was.
Yosefa and Noa never told the couple what had prompted the idea for the shidduch. The two began dating and eventually got engaged. They planned their wedding, unaware of Eli Mo’s hidden influence on their story.
It wasn’t until the day of the wedding that Noa realized something extraordinary: The wedding was taking place on Eli Mo’s first yahrzeit.
It felt like more than coincidence. There was a sense that Eli Mo had orchestrated the moment from above, paving the way for a new home to be built as his own memory was honored. For the chasan and kallah, the wedding was not only joyous. It carried meaning, mission, and the feeling that they were part of something far greater than themselves.
The families were told. Eli Mo was remembered under the chupah. A photograph of him was displayed at the wedding, visible to all the guests. His presence was deeply felt.
In a time marked by loss and uncertainty, this shidduch became a symbol of hope. Even as we mourn, we continue to build. Through one family’s sorrow, a new one was created, allowing Eli Mo’s light to continue to shine.
Please continue to daven for the recovery of the wounded, the safe return of the hostages, the success and protection of our chayalim and all security personnel, and for the safety of all of am Yisrael.
