“Walking Among Angels”: Rabbi David Ochanuna on Identifying the Fallen and Finding Strength in Unity

There are people who, from the very first conversation, you immediately sense are made of different stuff. These are people whose entire being is devoted to action and kindness, whose sole desire is to do good for another Jew.

Such a person is Rabbi David Ochanuna, married and a father of nine. Rabbi Ochanuna lives in Safed and, in his official roles, serves as the rabbi of Hermon Prison with the rank of prison chaplain, and as deputy commander of a scanning company in Battalion YKP 157 (the Command Burial Unit) in the reserves, with the rank of major.

In his unofficial roles, Rabbi Ochanuna volunteers as a medic with United Hatzalah, with ZAKA, with the Chevra Kadisha in Safed, and in the emergency department of Ziv Medical Center in Safed.

With your permission, let’s go back to Simchat Torah. Where did the war catch the rabbi?

“During the holiday they tried to reach me several times, but they only managed to get through on Saturday night. They told me there was chaos. Usually, in emergencies, we activate a ‘Tzav 8’ for only 12 soldiers, but this time I told them to mobilize the entire company. Once everyone was called up, we would go wherever we were needed.

“Initially, I arrived at Camp Tzipori — our staging point. Early the next morning, the entire company headed to Camp Shura.”

How did you know this time that everyone needed to be mobilized?

“We heard rumors throughout the holiday, and unfortunately I have experience with these situations. I understood that this was a severe event whose full scope we didn’t yet grasp, so I said to mobilize everyone.”

You arrive at Shura and the numbers keep growing. How do you deal with something like that?

“Most of my company had never dealt with fallen bodies before. This was the first time the soldiers saw such numbers — both civilians and soldiers. And yet, despite never having seen fallen bodies, they immediately shifted into ‘work mode,’ as if they had been doing this forever. They understood the magnitude of the mission, the responsibility, and the work required — and they performed exceptionally well.

“During the first week and a half there, we slept one to two hours a night,” the rabbi shares.

How did the work proceed?

“In the first three days we handled fallen IDF soldiers, and once the load eased, we began assisting with the identification of civilians. Before moving to civilians, together with the battalion’s mental health officer, we held a conversation with all the soldiers. I told them these sights would be far more difficult than those involving IDF soldiers. Whoever felt capable should come; whoever did not — should say so now.

“And indeed,” the rabbi continues, “nearly half the battalion chose not to handle civilian casualties because of the scenes involved, and they remained to assist with IDF fallen soldiers.”

And what about you, Rabbi — how do you personally cope with what you see?

“I’ve been through a lot,” the rabbi answers briefly. “The Second Lebanon War, Operation Cast Lead, Pillar of Defense, and terror attacks. The scale is completely different, but you do what needs to be done. In the end, I want to be able to stand before the family, and when they ask me, ‘Did you do everything possible to bring our loved one to a Jewish burial with dignity?’ — I want to answer with a clear conscience that I did everything. I felt as though I was walking among angels — holy souls who gave their lives sanctifying God’s name. That’s what gave me strength.”

Is there a moment that will stay with you forever?

The rabbi thinks for a moment and then says, “There isn’t a single moment. It’s a process that stays with you. It’s what makes you more professional and more sensitive.”

What insight do you take into life from this entire experience?

“With everything we thought, planned, prepared for, and went through — the conclusion is that, unfortunately, we need to prepare even more. God forbid, but we must be ready for the possibility of an even greater number of fallen.”

Are you able to separate the work at Camp Shura from your children at home?

“I won’t describe what I saw at Shura,” Rabbi Ochanuna replies, “but the moment I finish there, I go straight to hug my children. First thing. It’s okay to cry, too. That’s what I did. Family is an anchor. I don’t share what I see, but my wife is a full partner. She knows I witness difficult things, and she tells me, ‘I’m here so you can do this holy work.’ We live in Safed, and there were sirens — she’s the one in the safe room with the children. Sometimes there’s school, sometimes there isn’t, and despite everything, she doesn’t complain. She allows me to carry out this sacred mission. That, too, gives me strength.”

And what about the prisoners — did you find time to go to the prison?

“Yes, I did. I went to speak with the prisoners and walk through the different wings. It’s important to note the understanding shown by the Prison Service command — they don’t interfere with my work. Even though they could have asked me to remain in my role as prison rabbi, they allow me to do the work at Shura.”

How are the prisoners responding to the spirit of the times?

“The prisoners are stepping up,” the rabbi answers. “They light memorial candles, recite Tehillim for the success of the soldiers. They feel they’re contributing, even in a small way, to the war effort. Together with Hidabroot, we organized a tefillin campaign, which led many to put on tefillin and created a strong impact.”

What is the rabbi’s message from this period?

“We’ve gone through a crisis, and growth comes from crises,” the rabbi says firmly. “The unity that emerged from this crisis must continue in everyday life as well. We are brothers.”