“This is what a twentieth-century hero is really like. The lands of the free will need such men until the day when the last tyrannies that spawn the terrorists are faced down, and we enter the coming age of peace, the only long-range alternative to a planet of ash. ... Strange, slender, but strong threads tie me to this young Jewish soldier, whom I never met, and never heard of till he died ... .”
— Herman Wouk, 1980.
These words of Wouk’s rushed back into my mind as I read about the death of a soldier in the Israel Defense Forces named Moshe Yitzchak Katz, 22, from New Haven, Conn. Killed in battle in Lebanon, Sgt. Katz volunteered to fight for the Jewish people as a “lone soldier”—that is, a service member who does not have parents in Israel to support him or her.
Herman Wouk (1915-2019) penned the above words as part of his introduction to the 1980 English version of Self-Portrait of a Hero: The Letters of Jonathan Netanyahu. Yoni’s younger brothers, Benjamin and Iddo Netanyahu, put together the book.
Yonathan (“Yoni”) Netanyahu was killed in action combating terrorists during the Israeli hostage rescue mission at Entebbe in Uganda on July 4, 1976.
He was a lone soldier of sorts since his parents, Benzion and Tzila Netanyahu, were in the United States at the time. They were active Revisionist Zionists who moved from Israel to New York to work for the creation of a Jewish state, where Yoni was born in 1946. They moved back to Israel in 1949 following Israel’s declaration of independence, though they spent time back and forth in each country due to Benzion’s teaching at various universities in New York and the Philadelphia area.
Now, today, almost 50 years later, we have the hero Moshe Yitzchak Katz to mourn. Both Yoni and Moshe were paratroopers.
Traditionally, we are supposed to limit eulogies in the Hebrew month of Nisan, as it is the season when our people’s liberation from slavery in ancient Egypt was brought about by God. I do not know much about Moshe Yitzchak Katz, but I do know he died a hero. And that he is part of a group of young American Jews who made the choice to leave America and risk everything to defend innocent Jewish families during the existential war for survival that Israel now faces.
I believe no words I am able to offer as a eulogy could ever be enough.
In June 2025, mere hours before Iranian missiles began to terrorize Israel, I stood at the Western Wall (the Kotel) in Jerusalem and witnessed many young American-born Jews standing shoulder to shoulder with their Israeli-born brothers as they took the IDF oath. It was one of the most emotional evenings of my life.
Later that June evening, in a home in Jerusalem’s Old City, I listened to Wayne Yaffee, the chairman of Bnei Akiva of the United States and Canada, tell the families of a half-dozen or so lone soldiers that these young men are the best that the American Jewish community has ever produced. Yaffee said these new soldiers will be future leaders of Israel and the Jewish people. That they are “the Greatest Generation” the American Jewish community has produced because they volunteered at a period in our history when they are needed and when there is serious risk.
I wish that Katz had been there that night with his parents to hear Yaffee’s words, for they were incredibly inspiring. I have not done his words justice. And, selfishly, I wish he had been there so that I could have had the honor of meeting him, of wishing him well.
In classical rabbinic thought, the afterlife is referred to as Olam Ha’Emet, Hebrew for “World of Truth.” This is where Katz is now—a place where the Jews’ rightful place in the world is revered and never challenged, where lies about the Jewish people are never heard and where the hero he is becomes forever celebrated.
It has been reported that Katz was a Chabad Chassid.
Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson (1902-1994), the Lubavitcher Rebbe, stated: “God gave each of us a soul, which is a candle that He gives us to illuminate our surroundings with His light. We must not only illuminate the inside of homes, but also the outside, and the world at large.”So please, take a moment and learn some Torah, say a prayer or do a kind thing in memory of Moshe Yitzchak Katz.
Consider joining the larger fight to advocate for the State of Israel and the necessarily simultaneous struggle to help unify the Jewish community. Unity does not mean that we all have to agree, but rather that we put aside our differences and learn to love and respect each other in order to make the Jewish community a welcoming place for all Jews.
Though I did not know him, I believe that my brother—this man who shares my name—would want you to do all you can to show your love for your fellow Jews. There is no questioning the degree to which he loved you.
