My 11-year-old son loves soccer. He’s a huge Messi fan and never misses a weekly game with his friends at our local field.
Naila’s 11-year-old daughter loves soccer. She recently won a gold medal for her skills and has a passion for all sports.
Naila’s husband, Ayman, told me that he affectionately calls their daughter “princess,” even though her real name is Alma, which means “soul” in Spanish, my native language. At just 11, she already speaks four languages and dreams of attending Harvard University – more of a plan than a dream.
But on July 27, Naila and Ayman’s soul was stolen from them.
While my son continues to dream and play, Naila’s daughter will never make it to Harvard or win another medal.
That day, a Hezbollah rocket fired from Lebanon struck the Majdal Shams soccer field in northern Israel, killing 12 children, aged 10 to 16. Alma was among them.
The families of the 12 children who lost their lives in that barbaric attack want their voices to be heard among the international community. They call not for vengeance or retaliation, but ask that we honor the memory of their daughters and sons – beautiful souls, full of happiness and love – by being worthy of them.
Reflecting on their unimaginable loss and heartbreaking plea, Alma’s story reminds me of additional encounters I had this week with parents across Israel, each bearing their own grief and resilience.
Einav Danino
Ori Danino’s mother, Einav, spoke softly with teary eyes as she mourned her son in the neighborhood synagogue, surrounded by loved ones. She shared stories of Ori’s bravery, affection, and unwavering optimism. This 25-year-old young Jewish man was murdered by Hamas terrorists in a dark, airless tunnel in Gaza, where he was held captive for 330 days in inhumane conditions.
Omer Shem-Tov’s father, Malki, told me that on the morning of October 7, Einav’s son Ori managed to escape the Supernova Music Festival, where hundreds of Palestinian terrorists brutally murdered young people, raped women, and burned party-goers in their cars. Despite the danger, Ori turned back to save Malki’s son, Omer, and other friends he had met the night before.
Hamas caught them all and took them hostage. In a notebook found by Israeli soldiers in Gaza, 21-year-old Omer had drawn different types of food, repeatedly writing the word “food” and “a little more.”
Jon and Rachel Goldberg-Polin
HERSH GOLDBERG-POLIN’S parents, Jon and Rachel, sat together in their mourning tent, with dozens of people waiting in line to offer condolences. For a few precious moments, they spoke about their son Hersh – the one with the eternal smile, a sharp sense of humor, and an unwavering commitment to justice. Hersh, a young American-Israeli, was murdered along with Ori and four other hostages. In the US, Hersh became one of the most recognized faces of those kidnapped by Hamas.
The Druze believe in reincarnation, Alma’s mother Naila explained to me as we stood on the soccer field, and it is what gives her the strength and hope she needs to move forward. “Peace and love,” she stated: “That’s all we need for the sake of the children that remain.”
Over 200 kilometers from Majdal Shams, a charity (tzedakah) box shaped like a flexible glove of linked armor caught my eye at the Anu Museum of the Jewish People in Tel Aviv.
Each tiny link in the glove, though light and delicate individually, becomes unbreakable when combined. As the glove fills with coins, it transforms into an open hand, symbolizing that small acts of kindness, when accumulated, create a powerful shield of solidarity.
No parent should ever have to bury their child, yet these families have faced this heartbreaking reality. Regardless of their background, no one in our communities should stand isolated. Our true strength is found in how we come together to support and uplift each other, much like how the individual links in the armor create a strength far beyond any single piece.
Each child’s story is unique, but a profound truth unites them: the grief we carry for them is immense. The memory of these young lives – full of dreams and potential – will not fade. As we honor their legacies, we must ensure their voices are heard and their memories preserved. We must keep our hands open, offering solidarity and unity.
We owe it to Alma – and to all those we’ve lost.
The writer is ADL’s senior vice president for international affairs and a former Israeli ambassador to Chile.