I started writing what I wanted to say today dozens of times over the past month. Every time, another thought, another topic, another story came to mind.
I think first of all, I need to begin by saying thank you.
Thank you, Roey, for more than 21 years filled with joy and pride, conversations, and funny—even a bit crazy—stories.
Thank you for 22 years of pride, watching you grow and being part of it. Our conversations that I’ll never forget. Until the very last day, you did things your own way, and thank you for that.

In the past year, there’s hardly been a day I haven’t cried over the fact that you’re gone. So many people came and shared stories and laughter about you with us.
I knew you as Roey, my son, and we talked so much. But this year, I got to know another side of you—the friend and commander who cared for everyone around him. The one who would talk to people on the bus just to get to know them. The one who, when things got tough, would crack a good joke to lift everyone’s spirits. The one who arrived at a new base and immediately went to introduce himself to everyone there. The one who’d send his friends a schedule for what to do on Friday and Shabbat. The one who instilled his soldiers with Zionism and values. And the thing is, you kept in touch with nearly everyone.
You would call, message, and check on them—even in the middle of the night—because it mattered to you that everyone was okay. I don’t know when you even found time to sleep.

Roey, you left a hole in my heart. In some way, I’m still waiting for you, still unable to believe you’re gone. A year has passed, and people still send us pictures and videos of you as if you’re still here and will walk in and yell “Psych!”

Roey, you are a hero of Israel. You did everything right until your last moment. We’ll make sure as many people as possible know who you are, how you lived, and, sadly, how you fell.
I want to thank our family, friends, colleagues from work, and even strangers—some of whom have become friends—for their support, love, and even just a kind word or patience toward us. We needed that embrace, and we still need it.

Rest, Roey. We are here to continue what you began.
There isn’t a day without missing you.

In the year since Roey הי"ד was killed, we have literally papered the world with Roey's smile and his words which are so true:

החיים הרבה יותר קלים כשפשוט מחייכים

Life is so much easier if you just smile

The Gemara in masechet Ktuvot writes:

קיא עמוד ב' : דְּאָמַר רַבִּי יוֹחָנָן: טוֹב הַמַּלְבִּין שִׁינַּיִם לַחֲבֵירוֹ יוֹתֵר מִמַּשְׁקֵהוּ חָלָב,

דאמר רבי יוחנן: טוב המלבין שיניים לחברו יותר ממשקהו חלב, המקבל את חברו בסבר פנים יפות, אפילו לא נתן לו כלום - מעלה עליו הכתוב כאילו נתן לו כל מתנות שבעולם" תנו חיוך ותעשו טוב ...

"Whitening ones teeth to a friend" is a very apt way to describe extending a smile to someone.  Smiling at someone extends emotional support to the other that is truly more important than משקהו חלב any material support. And it doesn't cost anything and we all have the ability to do so.

The Chafetz Chaim reads this a little differently as טוב המלבין שיניים לחברו  –  better to cause one's friend to smile.  Even more important than our smiling at someone, is to cause the other to smile.

Smiles tend to be contagious.  Smile at someone and they are likely to smile back at you.  Extend yourself and watch the positive effect on the recipient.

Roey's smile is the thing that everyone remembers about him.  His smile was electric.  It was infectious.  And it was so effective. Whether to his chayalim, his friends or even to this littlest cousins, it gave everyone a sense of "It's going to be OK". 

Every time I look at the banner we fly or the stickers that seem to be everywhere and see his smile and his thumbs up, the first feeling is one of loss and sadness, but this quickly gives way to the knowledge that we were so blessed to have had Roey in our lives and how powerful is his memory that he still brings a smile to our faces and makes our lives הרבה יותר קלים.

יהי זכרו ברוך

Thank you for being here today,

Thank you for all the cakes, flowers, and challahs for Shabbat evenings.

You can’t imagine how these small gestures warm our hearts, helping us feel surrounded by a caring community.

We are blessed with a wonderful family and friends who are like family, who have been with us every step of the way.

A special thank you to Shani and Nadav, you were just incredible despite this hard year. We are very proud of you!

And thank you to all of Roey’s friends who come, support, and share stories about him. These stories strengthen us and help us see another side of him — Roey as a friend.

Roey was a special person who always knew how to smile, to see the good in everything, and to make everyone around him feel better.

His smile lit up every room he entered.

Over the past year, we’ve begun finding different ways to commemorate Roey. One way is through the stickers, and I want to thank everyone who has been putting them up all around the country and the world.

One of the reasons we chose to be here at Zayit Ra'anan is because we’re building the Beit Midrash (study hall) here in memory of Ari Fuld, a close friend of ours who was killed in a terror attack.

The Beit Midrash is dedicated to the memory of Roey and Elkana Neuandler, the son of a family from our synagogue who was killed in Gaza.

His memory will continue to guide us, and the values he lived by will continue to inspire us.

​

And now I will read words from Roey’s friend from the army, Itamar Hayut, who continues to show us what an extraordinary person he was.

​

Roey Weiser

I met Weiser when I was a soldier in the same platoon where he was the squad sergeant.

I want to share three things that characterized Weiser in my opinion and stood out the most.

First, Weiser was undoubtedly the funniest person I’ve ever met. No matter where he was, in what setting, or with whom, he brought laughter and lifted the mood.

Whether as a squad leader for recruits, as a commander, a fighter, or a friend—this was who he was.

Another thing that defined Weiser was that everyone everywhere knew him.

When you know someone, it’s common to check if there are any mutual friends. When you ask someone if they know a friend of yours from some place, not everyone will necessarily know them, or if they do, it’s usually just in passing.

But with Weiser, anyone who knew him would answer, “Yes, he’s my friend” or “I’m crazy about him” or something similar.

He touched the heart of everyone he met and brought joy to everyone around him.

Another thing I believe captures Weiser’s character is that during the war’s toughest moments, when everyone was down and struggling, people spoke about how we especially needed Weiser to lift everyone’s spirits.

Even later in the war, during morale’s lowest points, I remember many conversations where people would say, “If Weiser were here, things would be different,” or “If Weiser were here, the mood would be different.”

Roey Weiser, the sergeant, the friend, the commander—I will always miss you, always remember you, and always love you.

Roey
You’re surely looking down at me, laughing that I’m even speaking right now, especially in front of everyone. But this is for you.

It’s unreal that a year has passed since the hardest week of my life.
A difficult week that only at its end did I get the news about you, and I still haven’t truly processed it.
For me, maybe two months have passed since that week.
I live with those events and images every day, especially in recent times.
During the Ne'ilah prayer a few days ago, which was basically the only prayer this year I managed to connect with a bit, I couldn’t stop thinking about you.
I didn’t pray to God, unfortunately—or yes, of course I did, but I was only thinking about you, and all my prayers went to you. Because I know that if anyone can change anything in my fate up there, it’s only you.
I imagined a picture of you sitting beside God, smiling, saying, "Just a sec," right before He signs my fate and manages to change it.
I hope that’s truly what happened because that’s so you. Even in the most serious moments, you’d throw out the perfect funny, fitting word.

Roey
How is it that you’re not with us when we’re all being discharged?
How is it that you’re not living the life you planned for yourself?
How is it that you won’t be there to accompany me at my wedding?

How, out of all of us, was it you?
It’s such a tough question, but with such a clear answer to everyone here today.
Simply because that’s who you were.
Always first and in your own special way—your way alone.
I’m sure you know how much I’ve missed you since you left.
Especially in the times I need advice on things only you understand, in the moments that need your joy, or to hear what’s new about people we haven’t seen in a while.
So many small things where you’re missing. But still, you’re here.

Many times, we ask ourselves in certain situations, “What would you do?”
So know that every time we come to visit you here, we park as close to your spot as possible.
And that’s only because we’re sure that’s exactly what you would do.

You left us with a huge hole that, even after a year, hasn’t even begun to fill—and it won’t ever fill.
I want to tell you that we try to be there for your family and help with whatever we can, trying to keep your memory alive everywhere we go.
We also apologize that we haven’t yet managed to make something just from us, just yours.
I know that’s simply because we still haven’t truly processed that you’re not with us anymore, and that you won’t be at any of the big events in our lives.
I only ask one thing from you: do what you know to make this coming year a bit better for all of us.
I trust you and miss you.

Ido

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Blood has touched blood.
In these days, we visit military cemeteries not only for funerals but also for memorials of Israel’s heroes who fell in battle, and through their sacrifice, gave us all the ability to stand tall. Such was Roey Weiser, of blessed memory, a resident of Efrat, whose memorial I had the privilege of attending this morning at the military cemetery in Kfar Etzion. Roey was just a squad commander in Golani, not a high-ranking general. But in the moment of truth, that did not stop him from thinking big, quickly understanding the unexpected situation, and leading a life-saving battle. Roey accurately analyzed the direction from which it was best to attack the hundreds of terrorists storming his position. He understood how to protect the non-combat soldiers on one side and tactically manage the small force he had at his disposal. In the heroic battle he led, at its forefront, the Golani soldiers managed to kill dozens of terrorists and significantly halt their advance northward. Roey paid with his life in this battle of bravery. And here is what I said to his parents and all those gathered at the cemetery:

“I didn’t know Roey in his life, but I knew his story of heroism. The question of the source of this bravery resonates with me, especially now, as we have just begun mentioning the ‘strength of rain’ (Gevurot Geshamim) in our prayers. Where does this marvelous bravery we see in our soldiers come from? We know that strength is one of God’s attributes, that it is the attribute of Isaac our forefather, but from where did this strength come to Roey, of blessed memory, to him and to all his friends who we see here with us? How and from where did a generation of heroes like this grow here?” After all, we didn’t expect this kind of courage from a generation everyone called dismissively the ‘TikTok generation.’ In this sense, Roey, of blessed memory, was perhaps a symbol of this generation. Outwardly, in his day-to-day conduct, there was no sign that he was a hero. On the contrary, he seemed carefree, occupied with life’s trivialities, not with contributing to the nation and the state. This was also testified by the head of his pre-army academy in Etzem, where he studied before his enlistment. “Life is much easier when you simply smile” – that was Roey’s motto, and it’s also the slogan on the sticker made in his memory. So where did this bravery come from, in Roey and the other soldiers?

I have no doubt that Roey’s parents played a massive role in nurturing this hidden bravery, which revealed itself so gloriously at the critical moment. And the same is true for all the heroes of this war. The families who bear, with courage, the days of fighting and worry, and afterward, in the hardest and saddest cases, the moments of painful news, mourning, and sorrow – these are the families who raise and inspire us all with their spirit, time and again, at every funeral. It is these families who nurtured this hidden and marvelous bravery in their homes. And so, I said to Naomi and Israel, Roey’s parents: “Roey’s bravery came from you. A hero’s spirit grows in a home of courage. Even if you didn’t think of it that way while raising him, even if you never said it explicitly, this was likely the message you conveyed, even unknowingly. I am sure that just by living alongside you, Roey absorbed these values and traits from you – this bravery, this inner understanding, and conscious decision to put his life on the line for the State of Israel, to place the people and the nation before his own interests. There’s no doubt in my mind that he received this from you.”

I traveled to Roey’s memorial to say to his parents, on behalf of the entire government of Israel, thank you from the depths of our hearts. “A great thank you. Thank you, on behalf of the State of Israel and the people of Israel, for raising such a hero who knew how to prioritize the state over his personal well-being. This didn’t come from nowhere; it came from the home,” I told them. “Roey was a hero because you raised him this way. We owe you, his parents, an enormous debt, not only for Roey’s sacrifice but also for the way you raised him.” And with the cemetery filled with Roey’s friends, who continue to fight for us, and with the parents of his friends, and his parents’ friends, I clarified that this gratitude extends to all the families of all soldiers: “To be the generation of victory, we must be a generation of courage, and that’s what you are. We appreciate your bravery, are inspired by it, and rely on it as well.”

Throughout this past year, we have stood in awe of the soldiers and their families. We didn’t know they were like this; we didn’t realize what great people lived among us. And naturally, the question arises: hundreds of thousands of families – where does all this courage come from, which children absorb from such a young age? Where does this firm confidence in the righteousness of the path come from, which soldiers take as the foundation of their lives, embedded from their earliest memories?

It seems that the very first comment of Rashi on the Torah, which we’ll learn this Shabbat, is the initial foundation upon which this powerful sense of righteousness rests. Rashi’s comment on “Rabbi Yitzchak said” explains why the Torah begins with Genesis, teaching us from the very first verse, “He declared to His people the strength of His works, to give them the heritage of the nations,” clarifying from the outset: “If the nations of the world say to Israel, ‘You are robbers, for you conquered the lands of the seven nations,’ they can reply: ‘The entire world belongs to the Holy One, Blessed be He. He created it and gave it to whomever He deemed right,’ and concludes with ‘He gave it to us.’” This is the foundational basis for recognizing the righteousness of our path. A people raised on these words of Rashi will always be a people that, in the depth of its heart, knows its way.

And it seems that bravery is also derived from Rashi’s words in our portion, where he explains the first role God defined for man even before his creation: “Let us make man in our image, after our likeness, and they shall rule.” On “and they shall rule,” Rashi teaches us, “In this language, there is an expression of ruling and an expression of decline: If he merits, he rules over the beasts and animals; if he does not merit, he will be lower than them, and they will rule over him.” This is the first lesson Rashi teaches every child in Israel about man’s role in the world, just before his creation: the decision is yours – to rise and rule, or, on the contrary, to descend. A clear and sharp lesson, one that raises heroes.

I have no doubt: this marvelous generation of heroes grew on the foundations of many generations for whom this was the educational foundation. It is no coincidence that we hear from them again and again about the unbreakable connection they feel with the heroes of our people throughout previous generations. A generation of heroes – may we be worthy of them!

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coming soon