When Memory Itself Is Attacked: The Heartbreaking Erasing of a Sacred Symbol at Kibbutz Be'eri

In the quiet, hallowed grounds of Kibbutz Be'eri, a place synonymous now with unimaginable grief, something deeply unsettling has transpired. A memorial — a humble arrangement of stones and photographs for those brutally taken by Hamas on October 7th — was recently desecrated, and honestly, it’s hard to wrap one’s head around such an act. It was there, amidst the stones dedicated to Deborah Cohen, 42, and her two young sons, Neria, 12, and Shaked, 8, that a cruel hand sought to erase not just a drawing, but a vital piece of their identity.

You see, for these victims, as for so many others, the simple Star of David wasn't just a symbol; it was a quiet affirmation of who they were, a marker of their Jewish faith and heritage. Tami Cohen, a loving relative, had carefully sketched it onto the stone honoring Deborah, a small gesture of remembrance, a silent prayer, really. But when family members returned, a chilling discovery awaited them: the star, that poignant symbol, was gone. Wiped clean, replaced by some — well, some sort of vague, flower-like doodle, utterly out of place, utterly disrespectful.

It’s not merely vandalism; it’s an insult layered upon unspeakable sorrow. How does one process such a thing? Here, in a place consecrated by tears and remembrance, someone chose to deny the very essence of the victims. To remove a Star of David from a Jewish memorial isn't just a physical act; it’s a symbolic assault, a perverse attempt to scrub away their identity, to diminish their memory, and perhaps, to deny the very nature of the atrocities that occurred. It's an act, you could say, of profound antisemitism, turning a place of healing into another wound.

The family’s grief, already so immense, is now compounded by this cruel act of erasure. Imagine their pain. To visit a memorial, a place meant for solace, only to find such a deliberate defilement. It leaves a hollow ache, a sense that even in death, these innocent lives are not safe from hatred. And for many, it serves as a stark, painful reminder that the fight for remembrance, for identity, for simple respect, continues, even in the quiet fields where victims should finally rest in peace.