"I Wanted to Paint My Uncle Who Fell in Battle, But I Couldn't"
The moment artist Hila Ben Yitzhak met her husband, he asked her, "Paint Shabtai, my uncle who fell in the war," but she never managed to—until one day, it simply happened on its own. Also: the chilling story of Uncle Shabtai Mivilashvili.

"There is nothing more painful than losing a family member in war," says artist Hila Ben Yitzhak, and it seems she expresses the thoughts of everyone with that statement. "In my opinion, Memorial Day is a day of loss and sorrow in every sector. Each person chooses to express it in their own way," she notes.
However, Hila also feels a direct connection to the subject. "My husband has a revered uncle who fell in the Lebanon War," she says sadly. "His name was Shabtai (Shote) Mivilashvili. In our family, within the Georgian community, and among his many acquaintances and friends, he was admired and loved greatly for using his strength and valor to protect the weak. Even in Georgia, he defended Jews from gentiles who were very hostile to them. After immigrating to Israel, he volunteered to go to war during the Lebanon War."
This act of volunteering, it turns out, cost him his life. "At a certain point in the war, there was a soldier who needed to return home, but the friend who was supposed to replace him did not arrive. Shote did not hesitate for even a moment and offered to take his place. But as soon as he entered the front, the shelling began. There were wounded, and instead of fleeing and evacuating himself from the fire, he only went deeper in to help the injured, all while bleeding. An investigation later revealed that he died from blood loss."
Hila notes that his passing left everyone who knew him in deep shock. "As I mentioned, he was a very large and strong man. I remember there was once an incident where he injured his hand, his finger almost came out of its place, and other people would have fainted, but he didn't even feel the cut... The entire Georgian community was in shock from his fall, everyone knew him and loved him. He was killed at the age of 35, leaving behind a wife and two small children, parents, a brother, and three sisters. The tragedy was very great.
"Every year," Hila says, "our families commemorate the day Shote fell. Every time his story is told, there's a fleeting thought that perhaps he could have been saved if only he hadn't volunteered for the war, if only he had fled instead of staying to care for the wounded... But we know that's not the case. As believers, we are aware that everything is directed from above. The only thing that consoles us is the knowledge that he was a person who gave of himself to others, with a heart of gold. His fall was also because of the immense giving that so characterized him. That is how we will always remember him—a person who cares for everyone, gives and loves to help."
"I Painted and Cried"
"I never got to meet Shote personally, as I joined the family only after his fall," Hila notes. "But even during my first meetings with my husband Yosef, he told me about Shote and asked me to paint him. It was difficult for me to paint. In my paintings, I aim to convey joy, peace, and strength, and I didn't know how I could paint Shote when it was so sad to hear the stories about him. I tried to paint, but I constantly cried, I just couldn't do it."
Days passed, and in the meantime, Hila and her husband came up with different ideas on how they could nevertheless paint the beloved uncle. "I spoke with relatives, heard more stories about Shabtai Mivilashvili, may he rest in peace, about his personality, and saw pictures. His niece, for instance, told me that he had a strong, noble, and tough presence, and despite all that, he was very sensitive and gentle, especially with children. She repeatedly told me that, as his niece, she couldn’t forget his calmness, sensitivity, and gentleness. I connected to these aspects and could vividly see him living before my eyes.
"I also watched films about other soldiers, Israeli heroes, like Meir Har-Zion, Erez Gerstein, Roi Klein, Eitan Belhassan, and other dear ones. I also heard Rabbi Zamir Cohen's explanation about the Star of David and its significance in Judaism and decided to incorporate the symbol of the Star of David in my painting. Rabbi Zamir explains that the Star of David has various protective qualities. It seemed necessary to me.
"Throughout the entire time I painted, I kept telling myself that I'm trying to convey an optimistic message, a message of strength, faith, and trust. To also convey the hope that the fall of our soldiers wasn't in vain, and that their positive influence and protection over the Land of Israel, over us and the people of Israel, continue from above even now. I told my husband I want to broadcast the belief that soon we'll see all our loved protectors again, as promised: ‘Refrain your voice from weeping and your eyes from tears, for your work will be rewarded… and they will return from the enemy’s land,’ this is what gave me the strength to paint."
As the painting process continued, Hila says she sat together with her husband, who guided her 'one-on-one.' "Although I saw pictures of the uncle, they were small and insufficient, so my husband sat and explained to me: 'Paint an eye here, and an eyebrow there.' He sat with me all the time, and this process took us about a whole month."
With tears, Hila concludes: "I wish for all of us to soon merit true peace with Hashem's help and visibly see all our loved ones in the complete redemption quickly. May the painting help and bring strength to anyone who needs it."