These days, many people get their news and form their opinions not from newspapers or cable TV, but from podcasts. Personally, I find podcasts to be great company during the mundane moments of daily life —whether I’m driving, folding laundry or chopping vegetables. One of my favorites is Honestly with Bari Weiss, who brings thoughtful and provocative voices to the table. Recently, she interviewed Douglas Murray, a fierce and articulate defender of Israel. During their conversation, she referenced his appearance on The Joe Rogan Experience. For those unfamiliar, Joe Rogan is one of the most popular podcasters in the world, with over 14 million listeners. With a long afternoon of cooking ahead of me, I queued up the 2.5 hour episode as background for my slicing and stirring.
In that episode, Murray joined comedian and political commentator Dave Smith for what was intended to be a civil and productive conversation about the Israel-Hamas war. Predictably, Smith accused Israel of committing genocide and war crimes, painting vivid images of starving children and crying infants trapped beneath Gaza’s rubble. Murray countered with facts and historical context, noting, for example, that the combatant-to-civilian death ratio in this war is lower than in most other modern conflicts. But Smith, instead of engaging with the data, responded emotionally. He asked Murray if he had children, implying that no parent could ever justify what Israel was doing — regardless of military necessity or moral complexity.
This line of argument is not new. What struck me, however, was something that was missing — not just from this debate, but from so many others like it. No one talks about the young Israeli soldiers. No one mentions the 18- 19- and 20-year-olds who would rather be studying in university, learning Torah in yeshiva, going to parties, standing up for social justice, or even just arguing about politics with their family and friends. These are young men and women who generally do not want to put on uniforms, pick up weapons, and enter urban war zones. They do not really want to spend these days of their youth blowing up buildings, destroying property, or facing the trauma of combat.
But they do it.
They serve because they must — because their families, their friends and their homeland depend upon them. They are not aggressors; they are defenders. They didn’t start this war, and they pray every day for it to end. They wear their uniforms not out of hatred, but out of love: love for their people, love for their land and love for the future they hope to help build.
Would Dave Smith feel differently if it were his children sent into battle?
Thirty-eight years ago, my sister-in-law and brother-in-law, Judy and Baruch Sterman, made aliyah and settled in Efrat. Despite the 5,700 miles between us, our families have always remained close — showing up for each other at joyful simchas and at more difficult times. Judy and Baruch are blessed with six sons and one daughter.
At the start of this war, three of the Sterman children were called up for service. Eyal, the youngest of the crew, had just completed his training and was serving in Yahalom, an elite combat engineering unit. He later became an officer. It was hard for us to wrap our heads around the idea that our sweet, smiley, good-natured — and still very young — nephew was now a commander in the Israeli army.
One of our favorite memories of Eyal is from the bar mitzvah of one of his older brothers. On Friday night, he stood in the middle of his parents’ living room and practiced singing Anim Zemiros, which he would recite the next morning, with such excitement and heart. He was just a little boy then — how could that same child now be leading other young men into combat? We were so proud of him, and of course, deeply worried. The fear that something could happen to him, or to his brothers, was constant.
As the war went on, and Eyal’s brothers eventually completed their reserve duty and returned home, some of that constant anxiety lifted.
Two weeks ago, however, we received the devastating news that Eyal had been hit by a sniper in Gaza. At first, we didn’t know how serious his injury was. A fellow soldier on a tank had been shot, and Eyal, without hesitation, ran up onto the tank to help him. That’s when the sniper’s bullet struck his left arm. He fell backwards into the tank, hitting his head, but even so, he managed to apply a tourniquet to his own wounded arm and send a WhatsApp message calling for help.
Despite his bravery and quick response, Eyal’s injury was severe. His arm had to be amputated below the elbow.
Since that day, Eyal has been surrounded by unwavering love and support — from his parents, siblings and extended family in the IDF. His courage and resilience have touched the hearts of people from all backgrounds and communities. In his merit, Tehillim has been recited around the world, tzedakah has been given, challah has been baked, and countless acts of kindness have been performed. During his time in the hospital, Eyal attended the funeral of another fellow soldier. The emotional pain and the physical loss would seem to be too much to bear for anyone — how can a young person heal inside and out?
Eyal’s is one story — our family’s story — but sadly, his is far from the only one. There are so many families carrying stories like his. Stories of sons, daughters, grandchildren, nieces and nephews. Young people should be exploring life, not fighting for it. Young people deserve more out of life. They do not deserve the physical and constant emotional sacrifices that the Hamas terrorists and their allies have forced upon us.
When podcasters and news reporters speak about war, when they debate politics or report the latest headlines, do they ever stop to think about the human beings behind the IDF uniforms? The young men and women of the IDF are not faceless figures in a conflict; they are beloved children, siblings and friends. They are students, dreamers, musicians and Torah learners. They are people like Eyal, who ran into danger to save someone else. As the world debates Israel’s right to defend itself, let’s remind the world of the emotional and physical cost borne by its holy defenders. Their stories need to be told — and heard.
Bassie Taubes is the director of Community Outreach for Ematai, an organization dedicated to integrating Jewish wisdom into healthcare decision-making. She is the owner of Wellness Motivations in Teaneck, where she works as a health coach, fitness instructor, and advocate for well-being. Additionally, Bassie serves as the Rebbetzin of Congregation Zichron Mordechai in Teaneck, combining her professional expertise with her communal leadership role.
