After her husband was killed in Gaza, Hadas Loewenstern shares a message of strength

After her husband, Elisha, fell in Gaza, Hadas Loewenstern’s message to the world went viral, leaving thousands in awe of her faith and strength after such crushing loss. For Hadas, though, it’s simple: This is the story of the Jewish nation. Here, she shares more about Elisha, and the legacy he left her

This is not a private story. This is not about Hadas Loewenstern or Elisha Loewenstern. It’s about the Jewish nation.”

These are Hadas’s words.

Of course, it is true. Hadas continues to proclaim that this is a cosmic, global battle: good against evil. It’s a historic battle, another chapter like so many in our nation’s history.

But it’s also incomplete.

Because this is also Hadas’s story, and the story of Elisha and a marriage and a family.

And it’s the story of how the personal and national interweave, how all of us play a part in the great tapestry that is the story of Am Yisrael, across oceans and eras.

Two Pictures

My first introduction to Hadas was through two pictures:

The widely circulated family portrait: Elisha and Hadas, both with big, beautiful smiles, surrounded by their six children. The youngest a baby and the oldest a boy of 12.

The second was a picture of a front door. On it was stuck the traditional mourning notice: Elisha Loewenstern, beloved husband, father, son, teacher — killed in Gaza, fighting for his nation. But next to it was attached another notice, this one handwritten. It read:

Here live a widow and six orphans

With joy

The two pictures left me wounded. Bewildered. Astounded. First, the family portrait. Ten weeks into the war, ten weeks of pictures, of reading each morning, “Hutar l’pirsum — It is permissible to publicize…” the names, the faces of our soldiers: Elkana and Ofir and Barak and Yoav and Sergey and Ariel from Karnei Shomron and Zichron Yaakov and Tel Aviv and Elazar and Beit Shemesh and and and.

But after all of this, this deluge of tragedy, there was still something left to shock. There was still a moment when I looked at this beautiful picture and my heart contracted and then continued to beat despite itself, despite the decimation of a family, despite the smiles of these beautiful children. It was that moment when something inside cracked open — as if it hadn’t enough already — and a chasm of loss and grief and disbelief rent across each of our hearts.

But someone was standing at the mouth of the chasm and reaching out her hand so that we would not fall into its endless depths. Hadas Loewenstern. There she was, the regal woman so many of us have come to recognize these past few weeks, her eyes kind but burning with passion and intensity; standing tall, erect; intricate mitpachat framing her face like a crown. There she was, with her signs and her emunah and her huge, generous spirit that seemed to embrace all of us around the world, every kind of Jew, even as she was thrust into loss and grief, when her beloved husband of 13 years was killed in Gaza. Part of the crew of one of the first tanks to enter Southern Gaza, Elisha realized that his friends had been injured and tried to save them. As he did so, his tank was hit by enemy fire.

Three hours after she was informed of her husband’s death, Hadas told the army representative that yes, she wanted to talk to the press. She had a message to relay. A message of strength, of unity, of meaning, of faith.

Gently, I question her about this: “If you had a message to share three hours after your world fell apart, that means you always had a message.”

Hadas takes a sip of her tea, then agrees. She always had a message. But now, the world’s eyes were upon her. And she spoke. “Talking about his death is secondary. He only died once. He lived every day. He literally grabbed every second. And I am alive and my six kids are alive and this is our plan: We plan on living a wonderful life. We’ll live. We’ll live in Eretz Yisrael and be a happy Jewish family. And this is the true victory.”