"I Identified My Friend Lifeless and Remembered - I Never Thanked Him"

More than 15 years have passed since the Second Lebanon War, but if you ask Nir Rubin, who actively participated in the war's hardest battles, he'll point out that for him, some things remain deeply etched in his mind and heart, never fading away.

"I know I'm not the only one," he emphasizes, "Tens of thousands of IDF soldiers entered Lebanon, some didn't make it back alive, and many were left physically or mentally injured, or both." His voice turns quiet: "My memories are not just of the harsh sights, but also of my personal story. I got married exactly a week after the most fateful battle, where I watched my friends fall, and I was tasked with handling the bodies. A week later, I had to march to the chuppah and dance..."

Facing Death

This conversation with Nir is not coincidental. During Chanukah, when we all commemorate victory in war, Nir finds it moving that he can also mark his personal victory - the moment he chose life and resolved not just to live, but to live a life full of meaning and closeness to the Creator.

"Actually, my story begins about two years before the war," he starts, "I first met Orit, who later became my wife. The mutual friend who led to our relationship was Shimon Dahan, and thanks to him, we met. Even before we got engaged, Shimon was always interested in us, and I often reassured him: 'You'll see, everything will be fine, you'll be the main guest at our wedding.'"

Some time later, both Shimon and Nir were drafted into combat units in the Golani brigade, starting their military service. During service, Nir and Orit eventually got engaged and even set their wedding date for the summer. How could they imagine that two weeks before the wedding, the Second Lebanon War would break out?

The war broke out unexpectedly after the incident where two IDF soldiers were kidnapped from the Israel-Lebanon border, and three were killed. Israel responded with full force and intensity through massive airstrikes and ground units.

One of the war's most famous battles was in Bint J'beil, where Nir found himself fighting just less than two weeks before his wedding. "Ahead of us, Golani's 51st battalion, where my friend Shimon served, entered the area and fought alongside 40 Hezbollah operatives, starting their mission at 5:05 AM. Later, at 10:00 AM, my team and I joined the battle, partly to evacuate the injured. We managed to evacuate all the wounded, but when it came time to move the dead, we were stopped: 'Lives are not endangered for dead soldiers. Evacuate them at night when the risk is lower.'"

Late at night, Nir and his friends returned to retrieve the bodies. "As a combat medic, I was ordered to check the bodies to ensure no crucial equipment was in their pockets before the stretcher journey," he details. "I began the daunting task, and upon reaching the third body, my heart skipped a beat... I recognized him, Shimon, my matchmaker, the honorary guest at my wedding - lying there lifeless." Nir pauses momentarily, takes a deep breath, and reveals, "The only thought in my mind then was that I never thanked him. He offered me so much, yet I never truly looked him in the eye and thanked him."

He claims this moment changed his life in every way. "After witnessing such scenes, nothing remains the same, but for me, it also imparted insights into my daily life – the importance of gratitude, understanding not to wait for the future to express emotions. If you wish to thank someone or tell them what they mean to you, do it today, before it’s too late. It hit me so hard."

Shimon Dahan, may Hashem avenge his blood

To Dance and Cry

Nir was granted leave from the army for his wedding and found himself in an unusual situation – preparing for the most important day of his life, while knowing his friends were still in the Lebanese mud, risking their lives and fighting until exhaustion.

How does a wedding look like in such a situation?

"Honestly, it's hard for me to say because I really don't remember. A few years ago, I decided to perform a show about the battle of my life, and as part of the preparation, I tried to do 'research'. I sat down with my wife to watch our wedding video from start to finish. After watching the entire video, my wife told me, 'You know, you can see yourself at the wedding, but you weren't really there.' And she was so right. To this day, I recall wandering about at my wedding, constantly pondering about my fellow unit members and what they were going through - 'Are they still fighting or have they left Lebanon? And what about my matchmaker, who was so invested in our match yet didn't get the chance to wish me mazal tov?'

"Actually, it turned out my friends left Lebanon that same evening and were planning to come to the wedding, but on their way, at the Iron junction on Highway 6, they were called back to Lebanon, and none of them made it. I was physically present at the wedding, but my thoughts were far from there."

Nir notes that life is stronger than anything else, and he quickly found himself moving on despite the difficulty and haunting memories that surfaced continuously. "Bless Hashem, we were blessed with wonderful children, and on the outside, everything seemed fine, but the truth is, it was far from easy. The memories flooded me relentlessly, thoughts kept appearing, and a part of me remained on the battlefield, with all the sights and sounds, and even with the silence."

What helped you during those times? What gave you the strength to continue?

"First and foremost, it was the simple understanding that life must continue, for myself and for the children," he emphasizes. "Moreover, it's important to note that I was never alone on this journey. My fellow unit members are like family to me in every sense. These are friends who went through everything with me, we stay in touch to this day, support each other, and go through it all together. Three years ago, we organized a 'release journey' where we went out for a whole week accompanied by psychologists, analyzed everything that happened to us, and delved into deeply buried issues we hadn’t realized existed until then. It was amazing to see how all of us seemingly moved on with our lives without anyone stopping to say, 'Something is wrong,' but when we delved deeper, we realized we were all carrying scars. Yet, our conversations are always tinged with a sense of irony; we know how to laugh at ourselves at just the right moment, appropriately and respectfully. That journey was very special; many deep issues that lingered for years finally reached closure.

"Moreover, there's my wife and children, who are always with me. They envelop me with so much love, and I clearly know that no matter what I go through, if I stumble, there will be someone to catch me. It’s a comforting feeling that heals the heart."

Carrying the Values

Since that battle, have you had a chance to meet Shimon's family?

"I couldn't attend the funerals of the fallen since we were still in Lebanon. But after leaving, the most natural thing was to visit during shiva. And so, on one of the shiva days, I boarded a bus to Ashdod to visit the Dahan family. However, as I climbed the stairs, someone, whose identity I still do not know, stopped and warned me, 'Do not enter wearing your uniform. It's too hard for the family to see soldiers in uniform.' At that moment, I turned around, boarded the bus again, and headed home.

Nir Rubin with his children

"For ten years, I hadn't stepped foot into Shimon's home. His family was unaware of my story and even my existence, but about five years ago, when I started presenting my story in a show, one of the main messages I aimed to convey was the importance of gratitude. I realized I couldn't call on others to do good without first doing what was expected of me... So, I contacted Meir, Shimon's brother, and introduced myself: 'My name is Nir, you don't know me, but I want to meet you and your family and share my story with you because it’s also your story and ours as well.' Meir invited me, and thus I arrived at Shimon's home. I sat there with Meir and Yaakov, Shimon's father, showed them videos they hadn’t seen, and asked for their blessing for my show. At the end, Shimon's father got up and gave me a big hug. He said, 'You came to thank me, but I want to thank you – for remembering and reminding others of Shimon.' He also asked me, 'Pass on my thanks to everyone who hears this story for listening and learning from Shimon, and may they take something from him for themselves.'"

Incidentally, Nir notes that currently, the Dahan family is establishing a synagogue in Ashdod in Shimon's memory. They have all the necessary approvals and are in the fundraising phase for the construction.

As a religious man, how did you cope with what you experienced? What did you go through spiritually?

"As the saying goes – it's hard to argue with facts, and the reality is that in times I was in the depths – in the toughest and lowest moments of my life, I looked up to the heavens and saw Hashem from the closest place possible. These were moments when rockets were fired at us from four kilometers away, with nothing we could do but close our eyes and hope not to be hit. In such situations, you're closest to the Creator, and for me, these were the purest moments of my life – just me and Hashem, with no human interference. I understood clearly, whether I liked it or not, that I believed, and Hashem was the only one who would decide if and how I would exit this situation. Over the years, those feelings may have faded; there are times I'm more elevated and times I'm lower, but I always know that the foundational belief was built there, in southern Lebanon, in those days, and it's a stable and strong basis."

Nir Rubin giving a lecture

Can you say you've left the war behind and moved on with your life?

"I don't think anything can be left behind; the battle I experienced will always be part of me, and truthfully, I don't want it to be behind me. It's a significant and important part of my life; I lost dear friends in that battle, and I myself was changed there in the sense of 'know where you came from.' Yet great and wise people have said that the best medicine is time, as it heals and puts things into perspective. Today I understand it's not that I was once in one place, and now I'm in another but rather that what happened to me then and what occurs now are things that create my identity. Of course, there are moments in life when I still dive into what happened and cannot detach."

For instance, in what situations?

"For example, when my youngest son was born," he surprises, "we named him 'Peleg Shimon,' and he will carry it proudly wherever he goes. They say a person's name influences them and their surroundings, and I wish for Peleg that as it is said, 'He shall be like a tree planted by streams of water, whose leaf does not wither,' so too may he always be connected to values from which he will successfully flow, like Peleg – a small stream relying on the foundations of the main current. I hope his second name, Shimon, will reflect in his essence. Because Shimon indeed was wholeheartedly a person with a big smile, he could see the person before him without externals and with 100% internality, coming from the purest judgment possible. For Shimon, it didn't matter who you were, where you came from, or what you wore – first and foremost, you deserved a smile, a hug, and love. I pray that Shimon's special values will influence my little Peleg and all of us."