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| First Sgt. Yosef Goodman z'l (IDF) |
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By Jonathan Feldstein
February 4, 2006
Perhaps I met Yosef Goodman once or twice, but I'm not sure. Maybe he served me and my kids pizza sometime, as the pizza shop his parents own is every bit a family business.
People who knew Yosef describe him as an enormously kind young man, athletic, a leader, a man with a golden heart. He was very proud of serving in one of Israel's most elite paratroop units, and privileged to have as friends the men of the unit in which they served together. Yosef died Thursday in a training accident. His parachute became entwined with another's and he cut the ropes but the emergency parachute did not open. He was pronounced dead at the scene.
Yosef's parents are pillars of the community. They were among the first residents in Efrat and opened a thriving business. This week, Mordecai arrived to our house with the standing Tuesday night order and was pleased that the front door was locked. Just in case.
Last year, our six year old sons were in kindergarten together. We got to know Ann from drop-off and pick-up, and occasional play-dates. She always seemed interested in how we were adjusting as new olim, offering the advice and experience of a veteran.
I can only imagine the pride of having a son serve in the IDF's elite units. At the funeral, a friend described the day Yosef was inducted as his proudest day. This is something not to be taken for granted these days as nationalism and internal conflicts have led others away from serving in these units. I look at my sons and think how proud I'll be if they serve in any of these units. I hope that they will grow up with the pride of being an Israeli, and aspire to serve their country in such a way.
Yet, I hesitate for a minute, knowing that there's always the possibility that as much as I may be privileged to share the pride that Yosef's parents felt at his IDF service, I fear that one day I'd share the sorrow that they feel today. As much as the pride is unparalleled, the grief must be many times more so.
After the funeral, my wife wondered aloud, if this is what we raise our children for, to risk their lives and serve in the army. I corrected her. We made Aliyah and raise our children here so that they can love and build this land in the way that we hope to. Serving in the army is just one of the many sacrifices that we make to have that privilege.
Friday is a day off in most of Israel. In Efrat and communities all around Israel, people run around getting ready for Shabbat.
The feeling this past Firday was that the entire community came to a stop.
Thousands attended the funeral and accompanied Yosef?s body for burial at Mt. Herzl, Jerusalem's military cemetery. As another friend commented, though the sorrow is profound, that we come together as a community like this both in grief and in times of joy underscores the special nature of being in Israel. We mourn our losses as a family, and celebrate together in times of joy.
A loss like this, at this young age and in such a meaningless accident, pains all of Israel. News reports mentioned that it was the first death in a military training accident in 2006. But for Israelis, even the millions who never knew Yosef or do not live in his community, the loss is very personal. It is not just a number. Just below the surface of a tragedy like this, people pause and reflect on life, and even wonder "what if it were my son."
As our children woke up to news of Yosef?s death and our going to the funeral, I reminded my son that his friend from school last year had lost his brother. I did not need to say anything more. My son got it in an instant and felt sad for his friend. He's a very sensitive seven year old. Later in the morning he said to my wife, "Don?t worry, ima. I won?t jump out of airplanes."
Perhaps. Though the pride in having a son who would aspire to be in such a unit would be extraordinary. Parents who send their sons off to an elite combat unit and feel the pride that the Goodmans did with Yosef also must feel concern. Sometimes it's not articulated, but the fear of being in the Goodmans' place is always just below the surface.
May the Goodmans' sorrow be comforted by the love of their community, and the awareness that Yosef fell as a hero and inspired others in his too short life.
May they know no more sorrow and celebrate many smachot as a family, and with us all as an extended family and united Jewish community.
Views expressed by the author do not
necessarily reflect those of israelinsider.
 
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