When Eli Moshe Zimbalist was killed in Gaza, one neighbor committed to ensure his legacy

Photos: Elchanan Kotler

When Eliyahu Moshe Zimbalist was killed in Gaza, the entire kehillah in Beit Shemesh felt the blow, but for his neighbor Aryeh Deverett, it was especially personal. Aryeh, a master craftsman, was a mentor of Eli Mo, the bochur with the golden hands and heart, and today Aryeh has fulfilled his end of the promise they made together: to open a school where everyone can learn fix-it skills, pushing Eli Mo’s legacy forward

The massive tent is a maze of tools, cables, plugs, screws, concrete blocks for drilling practice,  and a drywall peppered with holes. The class that just wrapped up is the first in a series, and the instructor has introduced the group to the advantages of handling a power drill with professional finesse. In the coming weeks, participants will learn the basics of electrical work, plumbing repairs, and furniture assembly, among other skills. But for today, time is up, as the instructor claps loudly and says, “Well done, ladies! That’s it for today. See you next week!”

Yep, this class is women-only. There are also groups for children, and of course, those exclusively for men. But these aren’t just classes in how to manage your own home repairs or maybe learn how to build a succah. Behind them lies a legacy: the legacy of a young man named Eliyahu Moshe Zimbalist, who to his friends and family was better known as Eli Moshe or just “Eli Mo.”

On Shabbos morning, June 15, 2024, the Anglo community of Beit Shemesh — and the Zimbalist family in particular — was devastated by the news that 21-year-old Eli Mo had been killed in combat in Gaza. Along with seven fellow soldiers from the 601st Battalion in the Combat Engineering Corps, his armored vehicle was struck by an anti-tank missile, killing everyone inside. The grief was overwhelming.

The Zimbalists made aliyah from Silver Spring, Maryland in 2005, and from the time they settled in Beit Shemesh when Eli Moshe was just a toddler, it was clear that their little fellow was a natural-born tinkerer gifted with golden hands and a golden heart to match. By the time he was a teenager, he’d built bookcases and shtenders for the shul he loved — Rabbi Shalom Rosner’s kehillah in the Nofei HaShemesh neighborhood, and would never pass up an opportunity to help out a neighbor with a deck, a pergola, or any home repairs.

Eli Mo was a talmid at Yeshivat Shaalvim, a Hesder yeshivah in which he balanced his military service with Torah learning and personal growth. And beyond his technical prowess and love of Torah, he had a unique ability to connect with people. His father, Simi Zimbalist, says that many in Beit Shemesh were drawn to Eli Mo for his approachability and friendliness.

“He had these special interpersonal skills and a really unique personality that enabled him to form close bonds with lots of people and essentially relate to and connect with anyone — businessmen, young children, seniors. So many people of all ages and stages considered him a close friend,” Simi relates.

And, says his father, that included all the “invisible” people, the ones you see every day that become the fixtures in your life, like the bus driver and the cashier in the makolet.

“During the shivah,” Simi recalls, “an elderly man came in and told us, ‘My name is Nati. I’m the bus driver who would drive the chayalim from their base in Zikim until their entry points in Gaza. During every trip, Eli Moshe would come over and talk to me, take an interest, ask about my family.’ Then came the Russian cook from Shaalvim, who was devastated by the loss. And the special-needs kids on campus were also devastated, because he connected to them — he connected to everyone around him, gave everyone respect, because he genuinely loved them.”

But it was even more than that. Eli Mo took his Torah learning and mitzvah observance with utmost seriousness, even in the tanks and trenches of Gaza. “He was especially makpid on Daf Yomi,” says Simi. “He had this soft-sided pocket edition that he could keep in his vest no matter where he was. He organized a minyan with other chayalim, no matter where he was. His unit was the Engineering Corps — Handasah Kravit. Those are the guys who blow up the tunnels and flush out the terrorists by destroying the infrastructure. One of their big missions was when, on Taanis Esther, they went back into Shifa hospital and captured hundreds of terrorists. Right before he went in, he sent me a message: ‘Abba, please give matanot le’evyonim for me because I don’t think I’m going to be out.’ He insisted on fasting even though he probably could have gotten a heter. And in the lightless underground tunnels, they read the Megillah from the flashlights on their helmets.”