Orit Mark: "My Father Was Murdered Five Years Ago, Everything Changed Since Then"

The cheerfulness and joy in Orit Ettinger's (Mark) voice are evident even over the phone. "I have a busy day," she tells me at the start of our conversation. "You know how it is – school, work, volunteering to manage a charity, plus everything at home as a married woman, and above all – my baby son, Tzur Shahar, who requires a lot, but our call comes first," she emphasizes.

Many remember Orit from the horrific attack five and a half years ago when her father, Rabbi Michael (Michi) Mark, was killed, her mother was critically injured, and her younger siblings were also hurt. Orit was only seventeen at the time, and she says her life has turned 180 degrees in every way since then.

Rabbi Michael Mark Z

"I Couldn't Believe Terror Reached Us"

It seems there's no one in Israel who can forget that dreadful attack. "To this day, some recognize me on the street from the pictures published during the shiva and ask, 'Are you Orit? How's your mom and family?' It's clear that the people of Israel are still thinking about us. That's very heartwarming," she shares. "Personally, I can say that five and a half years might sound like a lot of time, but sometimes it feels like it all happened just a moment ago. The attack still affects us every moment; it changed all our lives. Nothing is the same."

Where were you when it all happened?

"It was a Friday, right at the start of the summer vacation, and there was a great sense of release and freedom. In the morning, I still managed to travel with my parents and younger sister to Be'er Sheva for a driving lesson. After we returned to the settlement, I went to hand out chocolates to soldiers in honor of Shabbat, and when I got home, I saw my parents getting ready to go for Shabbat. They weren’t supposed to travel, but they received a sudden call that my brother, who was supposed to go to Grandma, couldn't make it, and since Grandpa passed away a few years prior, and they insisted on not leaving Grandma alone, they took two of my younger siblings and went."

Orit notes they are ten siblings in the family; she's the sixth, with four younger than her. "I stayed home with my two younger sisters, planning that for Shabbat, we'd be at our uncle's who lives in the settlement."

But shortly before Shabbat, the uncle suddenly appeared at their home. "He asked who was home, and I replied it was just me and my two younger sisters. The uncle already knew about the attack but didn't tell me anything, just said, 'Follow me.'"

Orit recalls: "We felt something strange, but still, the three of us followed him – sandals on, Shabbat clothes in hand. We reached our uncle's house, sat in the living room, and still, no one told us what happened. We sat there for about ten minutes, and then people began to enter, look, and leave. Only after long minutes did my aunt take me aside and tell me: 'Orit, there was a shooting attack, they shot at your car, and dad and mom are not well.'"

Did you grasp the meaning?

"Of course, I didn't grasp the full meaning, but the term 'attack' wasn't far from me. I have a cousin who was murdered in an attack in Jerusalem, my sister-in-law's father was also murdered in an attack, and just before our attack, Dafna Meir was murdered at the entrance to her home in Otniel, two houses away from us. Living in the Judea and Samaria area, discussions about terror attacks weren’t foreign to me, but I couldn't understand how it could affect my family. It seemed impossible.

"I remember running immediately to hug my two sisters and sitting beside them. During those moments, many people from the settlement came to the house, including teachers and cousins, but my feeling was that it was just my sisters and me – they were all that remained for me in the world. Meanwhile, I heard phone calls from which I understood that dad was murdered and mom was critically wounded. Later, I also understood that my two brothers who were in the car were also injured. Every moment brought another horrifying detail. I felt chaos, literally."

How did you get through that Shabbat?

"We all traveled to the hospital to be with the injured siblings and mom. The difficulty was enormous, but the feeling of togetherness gave us strength. I remember the big hug from Shlomi, my older brother when I arrived at the hospital. It was the first moment I felt someone giving me strength, showing me I wasn’t alone, and thank G-d, I was blessed with a big family that was and will be with me all the way.

"On that Shabbat, we were also surrounded by Shlomi's friends and cousins. I was constantly accompanied by a feeling of: 'Mom, what’s happening here?' Shabbat is such a family and pure time, how are we in such a shocking situation? On Friday night, we all sat and cried, and at some point, Shlomi stood up to perform the Kiddush. Instinctively, I grabbed his hand: 'You're not doing it, you can't replace dad.' I couldn't handle the thought that dad wouldn't bless the wine anymore..."

"We Must Create Deterrence"

Orit pauses for a moment and mentions that when she hears of recent terror attacks, which sadly happen quite often lately, her first thoughts are of the families. "The families don’t even realize how endless their struggle will be and how it will accompany them for years. Even for us, although it's been five and a half years since the attack, nothing truly heals, the vast void remains. We all try to continue our lives because there’s no choice, but reality is challenging and complex.

"The attack has become an inseparable part of our lives, and it's always with us. Take, for example, the fact that my son's brit was held on the same day as my dad's memorial. We went straight from the memorial to the brit, and it was confusing and painful, a mix of joy mixed with sorrow."

Have you had the chance to meet more bereaved families? Do you engage in comforting in such situations?

"Yes, I try very hard to visit and comfort families after attacks, and there are many cases where I’m asked to come, and I usually agree. I've experienced tens of such situations. I almost always arrive without words and try to sit on the side, without speaking. I'm aware that it's the family's space and their pain, they don’t always want to hear, and you simply need to be with them."

Do you think there is anything that can be done to prevent the many attacks?

"Of course, deterrence needs to be created. It can't be that the terrorist who murdered my dad will arrive in court and say, 'I'm sorry I didn't kill the woman and the kids too,' and still receive excellent conditions in prison. The terrorists currently know they have nothing to lose - they come to murder and then sit in jail while their families receive money from the authorities and great respect from the entire Palestinian nation. So, why shouldn't they do it? Clearly, deterrence must be created."

And how is that done in practice?

"In my view, deterrence starts with demolishing the terrorist's house - that's the basic step, but unfortunately, it's not always done. Just this week, we heard court discussions regarding demolishing the house of the terrorist who murdered Eli Kay Z""l, and it's infuriating and incomprehensible. Additionally, the entire terrorist’s family should be exiled. It needs to be clear that if your father murders, your place is not with us. Go to another country, just don’t remain in Israel. It is also important to reach everyone who collaborated and impose the maximum punishment. We must not compromise on anything less."

Continuing Dad's Goodness

When Orit talks about her father, admiration is evident in her voice: "Dad was a person of infinite goodness, and in addition, he was a great scholar, with vast Torah knowledge. For all those years, he was the breadwinner, while mom was a homemaker and raised us. Dad always declared he intended to retire at 40, and that's exactly what happened. Right after he turned 40, he left his job and continued to work only one day a week. For the rest of the days, he engaged in Torah and Kabbalah, learned with study partners, and fully devoted himself to study in the Beit Midrash.

"What was amazing about dad was that he wasn't lost in fantasies, and whenever he had a dream, he simply got up and executed it. As a child, I got used to the fact that if dad decided to go on vacation, we just got up and went, and if he wanted to undertake a project in the yeshiva or kollel, it would happen immediately. Dad used to pamper us a lot, and our last conversation moments before he left for the trip where he was murdered was about the cabins he booked for us for the summer vacation. At the same time, he was also a dad who knew how to criticize and comment. He was my compass, and I always knew that if I did something wrong, he would come and shake me. I learned so much from him, to this day, I have his words well-remembered and engraved in my heart."

The unforgettable memories of her father led Orit to establish the 'Or Michael' association in recent years, focused on supporting patients. "I am the director of the association," she says with a modest smile. "I actually manage it on my own, really alone, for the past four years."

Why did you decide that the association would focus specifically on supporting patients?

"It was clear to me from the beginning. Following my mom's serious injury, I accompanied her for years to hospital treatments, and even today, she is still in rehabilitation. During this time, I met many people who were alone, really alone. I remember sitting next to mom in the days after the injury, while at any moment, uncles, cousins, and relatives would enter, as well as Knesset members and many people who came to strengthen and encourage, while beside her lay a lonely woman with no one next to her. I felt how much light was missing in hospitals, and I told myself that exactly my dad's light was what's missing there. Then I understood that even though dad is no longer here, I can take his light and introduce it into the hospital."

Orit wants to highlight another point that always guides her: "Dad believed that each of us has our own special light, and therefore, if I try to resemble you, I won't succeed because I don't have your talents and uniqueness. On the other hand, you also can't resemble me... Once each of us brings ourselves to the world, it’s the best we can give.

"This thought is also reflected in the activities of the association I founded – we have no admission criteria, anyone who wants to can come and volunteer, bringing with them their uniqueness. If, for example, they bring a lot of energy and a musical instrument – that's wonderful, and if it's a quiet girl, we connect her with a quiet woman who just wants to share and unload. Our entire association is built from volunteers, including staff members. We have over 1000 volunteers who go to hospitals around the country, and also set up stands in the streets from time to time, to distribute chocolates and lift spirits, the main thing is for everyone to have a day full of light."

It takes great courage for a woman of your age to run an organization...

"True, when I established the organization, being only 18, everyone told me I was crazy and questioned why I wanted to dive into something so big, but I really wanted to. I told myself that this was the way to honor dad, and dad never worked small, he always worked big. Before the coronavirus, I even had plans to expand and bring our activities to Berlin and London. Everything stopped, but I believe it will happen eventually."

Isn't it hard to accompany so many cases of suffering and troubles in medical facilities?

"Of course, it's hard and painful, but knowing that you bring light specifically to these people provides a lot of strength. I can tell you that two years and nine months ago, my older brother Shlomi died in a car accident. We sat shiva for him at my home, and I felt like I couldn’t rise up, unable to move forward, how much more can one lose? Exactly then, I received many WhatsApp messages from 'Or Michael’s' volunteers who wanted to tell me they set up a blood donation stand and distributed chocolates in his memory. It made me so happy, I said to myself: 'Look how much light continues in the world thanks to this blessed idea.'

"Yes, I get sad sometimes because I’d want dad to be part of this activity and see what I’m doing, it makes my whole family sad, and every time we see dad’s picture, we feel the longing. But we strive to keep looking forward, to be strong and mostly joyful because it’s clear to us that’s what he would have wanted for all of us."