Hersh Goldberg-Polin’s mother looked almost as the world has gotten to know her when she took the podium at her son’s funeral in Jerusalem.
Rachel Goldberg-Polin had her hair pulled back neatly and was wearing a crisp white shirt, the trademark piece of masking tape marking the number of days since her son and 250 others were taken hostage on Oct. 7 affixed to its breast.
But the shirt was ripped, in keeping with the Jewish tradition of rending one’s clothing upon learning of the death of a loved one. And she had something new to say.
“I no longer worry about you,” Rachel Goldberg-Polin said. “I know you are no longer in danger.”
Her maternal concern had captivated the world as, over nearly 11 months, she and her husband Jon Polin engaged in a tireless effort to bring their son home. She had spoken to the pope and the president, to the United Nations, to 20 million Americans watching the Democratic convention. She had illuminated a portrait of her son in a world filled with darkness. And now she was saying goodbye, with the quiet faith and determined love that has made her an icon for so many.
“I have had a lot of time to think about my sweet boy Hersh over the past 332 days, and one thing I keep thinking about is how out of all the mothers in all the entire world, God chose to give Hersh to me. What must I have done in a past life to deserve such a beautiful gift,” she said.
“I want to do hakarat hatov [recognize the good] and thank God right now in front of all of you for giving me this magnificent present of my Hersh,” she added, sobs audible around her. “For 23 years, I was privileged to have the most stunning honor to be Hersh’s mama. I’ll take it and say thank you. I just wish it had been for longer.”
Thousands of people flooded into Jerusalem for the funeral, held at Har Hamenuchot, the largest cemetery in the city. Mourners sang psalms as the space filled — not near the plot where Goldberg-Polin would be buried, as initially planned, but in the main parking lot to accommodate the crowds.
First, Israeli President Isaac Herzog spoke, apologizing to Hersh and his family for the state’s failure to carry out its duty to protect and return him.
Then, Hersh’s father Jon Polin took the podium, sketching out a portrait of his son as a wise, inquisitive, kind and gentle soul who was a top-tier conversationalist and an engine of justice in the family and beyond.
“From the time Hersh was a toddler, he had a wisdom that always expanded my own thinking,” Polin said. “He was my rav [rabbi], my teacher, my companion.”
The funeral came amid an outpouring of grief from around the world over the deaths of Goldberg-Polin and five other hostages in Gaza this week, nearly 11 months after they had been taken hostage by Hamas.
From Chicago, where Rachel Goldberg-Polin and Jon Polin grew up, together attending the Orthodox Ida Crown Jewish Academy, and where members of the extended family still live.
From Berkeley, California, where the family lived when Hersh was born in October 2000. His family’s synagogue there, Congregation Beth Israel, was crowded on Sunday night for a vigil in his honor.
From Richmond, Virginia, where the family, now including sisters Leebie and Orly, moved when Hersh was a young child.
From Georgia, where the family were regulars at the Ramah Darom Passover retreat, even after they moved to Israel. “There are no words to express the heartbreak we are all feeling,” the camp said on Sunday.
And from Jerusalem, where the family is a fixture in the Baka neighborhood that is home to many English-speaking, religiously observant immigrants. The family’s synagogue, Hakhel, held a gathering on Sunday night for mourners. Supporters of the local soccer team, Hapoel Jerusalem, of which Hersh was a devoted fan, attended the funeral in large numbers. So did people affiliated with Himmelfarb High School, the religious boys’ school from which Goldberg-Polin graduated.
Two of his closest friends from Himmelfarb have also died in the current crisis: Aner Shapira, who was killed on Oct. 7 after defending Hersh and others in a bomb shelter after they fled the Nova music festival, and Ben Zussman, who was killed while fighting in Gaza after being called up as a reservist. Both of Goldberg-Polin’s parents acknowledged those losses in their comments.
Jon Polin said his son had always sought justice and to take principled stands, even when they were not always the most popular. Now, were he alive and free, Polin said, Hersh would be seeking more than just the release of the remaining hostages.
“You would keep on pushing for a rethinking of this region. You would say — you have said — that we must take a chance on the path with potential to end the ongoing cycles of violence. You would ignore people’s public posturing and what people say at press conferences, and you would push every decision maker to truly look themselves in the mirror and to ask themselves selflessly every single day, ‘Will the decisions I made today lead to a better future for all of us?’” he said. “And you would tell any decision maker who cannot answer that question with an emphatic yes to step aside.”
Rachel Goldberg-Polin thanked the many people around the world, and in their own neighborhood, who had shown up for the family throughout their painful ordeal.
“I apologize deeply, but we’re going to now need continued help to get through this sickening new chapter two,” she said, her voice breaking. “And I’m so sorry to ask, because we have given you nothing, and you have already given us profoundly and completely for 11 months, but I beg of you all, please don’t leave us now.”
Then, she addressed her son directly. “OK, sweet boy, go now on your journey. I hope it’s as good as the trips you dreamed about because finally, my sweet boy, finally, finally, finally, finally, you’re free,” she said. “I will love you and I will miss you every single day for the rest of my life.”
She closed by inverting the mantra that she had uttered at every turn, from whispering it into the quiet dark to shouting it across the border into Gaza.
“Hersh, there’s one last thing I need you to do for us,” his mother said. “Now I need you to help us stay strong, and I need you to help us survive.”
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