A Heartbreaking Farewell The Bibas Family’s Final Ride

“Nothing is sadder than a Jewish funeral.” These words, spoken years ago by the late Marcel-Jacques Dubois, a French Dominican priest and philosophy professor at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem, echoed in my mind this morning. Thousands gathered along the cold streets to pay their respects as the funeral procession for Shiri Bibas and her sons, four-year-old Ariel and nine-month-old Kfir, passed by.

At a Jewish funeral, there is no comfort in talk of angels or heavenly rewards. Instead, the focus is firmly on honoring the departed, on the raw and unfiltered goodbye. The crowd that stood outside as the vans carried the Bibas family to the cemetery near their home at Kibbutz Nir Oz shared a collective sorrow a quiet offering of solace to those left behind.

Few funerals could be more heartbreaking for Israelis than this one. The Bibas family became a symbol of the October 7 massacre, their images burned into our hearts. The video of a terrified Shiri, clutching her red-headed sons as Hamas terrorists surrounded them, was a nightmare come to life. Many of us hoped it was fake, because the reality that such young children could be kidnapped was too horrifying to accept.

As details of the massacre emerged, the Bibas boys became instantly recognizable. Videos and photos showed us their lovely family, and we felt a deep connection, as if they were our own. A woman I know, a cook at a special-needs residence, spent months planning to use her vacation time to cook for the Bibas family once they were released. I imagine she was among those mourning today.

Collectively, we held onto hope. Even as time passed, even as proof-of-life videos failed to emerge, we clung to the possibility of their safe return. The terror group’s lies about other hostages like Hanna Katzir and Daniella Gilboa, who were falsely reported dead but later released alive kept us believing. We painted our nails orange, we planned for their homecoming, and we refused to accept the grim reality.

But the truth became unavoidable. In November 2023, Hamas forced Shiri’s husband, Yarden, to appear in a sickening video where he was told of their deaths, allegedly in an airstrike. Now, we know that they were murdered by their captors with their bare hands a brutal and inhumane act.

As I watched the procession, I thought of those who tore down the Bibas family's posters around the world. The same people who celebrated the October 7 massacre as "resistance" might be rejoicing today, seeing this tragic outcome as a victory. It is a chilling thought, one that sharpens the contrast between us and them.

Our sorrow, our ability to mourn not just for our own, but for all innocent lives is what sets us apart. Unlike those who parade in celebration, even when death steals children, we gather to grieve, to offer our hearts to the bereaved. The crowd lining the roads today stood as a testament to this compassion, an antidote to the hatred that led to this tragedy.

As the vans moved slowly to the cemetery, the weight of Dubois’s words felt heavier than ever. Nothing is sadder than a Jewish funeral, where the absence of consolation in the afterlife sharpens the pain of loss. But perhaps our sorrow is not just a burden it is also a gift. A gift to the Bibas family, and to ourselves, a reminder of our humanity in the face of unimaginable cruelty.

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