For a long time, the concept of "family" was sold as a simple, static image—a mother, a father, and children, framed like a classic portrait. But life, as I learned during my university years and later through my own lived experience, is far more complex. Today, I am a single mother to three teenage girls. Our home is full and vibrant, and though their father lives separately, he remains a dedicated presence. We have redefined the traditional unit, proving that family is not dictated by a rigid template, but by the strength and consistency of the bonds we choose to forge.
In Israel, community is the bedrock of resilience. In my home of Modi’in—a unique tapestry of secular and Orthodox Jews, Yachad Modiin —we don't just coexist; we show up for one another. Volunteering has been my North Star since my youth in East Talpiot, Jerusalem. From leading youth committees and agricultural labor in the Sinai to serving in the IDF and working as a first responder at MADA, and hydrotherapy in Sheba Tel Hashomer, my life has been a continuous response to the call of service.
But a quiet Shabbat morning in 2016 altered my trajectory forever.
A friend from synagogue, knowing I was a professional diving instructor, asked if I would join ZAKA’s elite Scuba Unit. At the time, I barely grasped the organization’s gravity. "We search for the departed within the aquatic abyss," he explained. My response was instinctive, "I’ve never tried that before, but I bet I’ll be good at it."
I soon found myself a woman in a traditionally masculine bastion. Under the command of Chaim Otmazgin, I was the sole female in a specialized search-and-recovery course alongside twenty five men. ZAKA is often perceived as an ultra-Orthodox stronghold, yet I found my calling there, performing the most selfless act in the Jewish tradition: Chesed Shel Emeth—the "True Kindness" rendered to those who can never repay it. I have braved the dark waters of the Kinneret and the murky currents of the Yarkon, ensuring the fallen are returned to the sanctity of a holy burial. In the water, gender disappears; there is only the mission and the honor of the dead.
Then came October 7th.
Alongside 400 fellow ZAKA volunteers, I descended into the Gaza Envelope to face the unimaginable. For three grueling months, we labored to collect victims and remains—a mission of blood, silence, and sacred duty. In the midst of that horror, I was met with immense respect from every volunteer I encountered. It was a "moment of truth" where the barriers between us dissolved, leaving only the weight of our shared, holy work.
In the wake of those months, ZAKA recognized in me a voice that could carry our mission beyond the field. I was transformed from a silent volunteer into a witness, sent on delegations across the globe to bear testimony to the atrocities of October 7th. From local stages to international halls, I stood before the world to share the story of our resilience. One of the most defining moments was representing ZAKA at a prestigious Jerusalem Post gala in New York, raising vital support and awareness for the organization that had become my life's work.
Later that year, I received a phone call from the minister – Miri Regev, that left me breathless. I was chosen to represent ZAKA and the rescue forces by lighting a torch on Mount Herzl for Israel’s Independence Day. Standing there, under the Jerusalem sky, the academic theories of my youth finally made sense.
Family is not merely a product of biology or household walls; it is forged in the fire of shared sacrifice. I have two families now: the one at home, and my brothers-in-arms at ZAKA. Together, we prove that in the face of darkness, the most powerful definition of family is the one that stands together in the breach.
Irene Nurith Cohn is a volunteer of the ZAKA scuba unit