We are seeing new survivors
A gala that took place yesterday at a friend’s home introduced me to an entirely new understanding of the word survivor.
We listened to a speech by Dr. Yechiel Leiter, the Israeli Ambassador to the United States. I had long admired his oratory skills, so I was excited to hear him in person. But then he shared something I hadn’t known—that his beloved son Moshe was killed in this war. My heart broke.
Dr. Leiter had planned to retire from politics and devote his time to writing and his family. He initially declined the prestigious ambassadorship. But after Moshe’s death, it became a mission of honor. In memory of his heroic son, he accepted.
Just two hours later, my husband and I attended another event at the Saban Theatre, sponsored by our shul, Young Israel of North Beverly Hills. There, two hostages stepped up to the microphone. They received a standing ovation—simply for being alive and for making the trip to speak to us in Los Angeles.
It was then that I realized: we are entering a new era of survivors—ones who have endured atrocities that echo the horrors of the Shoah.
When I was growing up, we never had Holocaust survivors speak at our public school. The Holocaust wasn’t even mentioned in our history books. But when we moved from Europe to the United States, everything changed. On Yom HaShoah, a survivor would often be the keynote speaker, recounting firsthand the unimaginable horrors of the camps. They were living witnesses to that time.
Fast forward to October 2023. Hundreds of hostages were taken—not to concentration camps, but into unimaginable dungeons of horror. Young, innocent girls were dragged by their hair, beaten, raped, and murdered. Some, with the help of Hashem, survived. Last night, we heard the testimony of Sasha Troufanov and his girlfriend Sapir —survivors who stood before us to tell their story.
Later that evening, Matisyahu performed. The audience sang and danced. It felt like Yom HaZikaron and Yom Ha’atzmaut had converged into one surreal night. But something felt different.
There are still people buried alive, hundreds of feet underground. I couldn’t bring myself to dance.
“Let’s go,” I said to my husband as we saw Sasha and Sapir leaving. In the lobby, we approached them, expressing our gratitude and awe. It was a moment I will never forget.
On the drive home, I reflected: Dr. Leiter is a survivor. Instead of retreating to grief or taking time for himself, he chose to serve his country—carrying unbearable pain in his heart. Families like his, who have lost loved ones to war, are survivors in their own right.
And then there are the other heroes—those who survived captivity, who have barely begun to heal, physically and emotionally, yet choose to stand up and speak. They help others see the sun again.
Never did I imagine we would witness another generation of survivors, speaking out just as my father, of blessed memory, once did.