Empty place settings and the power of presence

At the very least, I was one of the people who had come and gone from that hall (a single drop that raised the sea) and showed Yarden and his family that we, as a people and as a nation, were present for him. As well as for his wife and two children and the grief we felt toward the loss of their light.”

My article in November 2025 was about some of the “high profile” hostages and victims from Oct. 2023 onward who have grabbed my attention. I saved this story about the Bibas family for a separate article, partially due to some personal experiences of mine in relation to their story.

The kidnapping of Shiri Bibas, clutching her sons Ariel and Kfir (who were 4-years-old and 9-months-old at the time), on Oct. 7, 2023, was recorded and shared by Hamas. Yarden, the husband and father, was also kidnapped, and kept separate from his family. Yarden was returned alive in February 2025. At the time of his release, the status of his wife and children was unknown. Then, sadly, later that same month, Yarden’s wife and children were returned in coffins.

Besides being among the most high-profile hostages, the Bibas family stands out to me personally for other reasons. In mid-February I went to what is known as Hostage Square in Tel Aviv. Among the many things set up there is a long table with chairs and place settings for every single hostage. On the plates of the hostages that have been returned is a heart, and written on it in Hebrew is “I returned!”

The Bibas family’s place settings stood out to me for a few reasons. As this was soon after Yarden’s release, his plate had the “I returned!” heart. The status of his wife and children was still unknown at the time. The chairs for the children were child-sized and covered with stuffed animals that I believe people left there.

Within a few hours of me seeing this, it was announced that Shiri and the boys would be returned, but that they were not alive.

It is common in Israel that, when someone is murdered in a manner that shakes the nation, thousands (of strangers) will attend the funeral. The Bibas family requested that the funeral itself be kept private, with only family and friends in attendance. So, to pay their respects while still respecting the family’s wishes, thousands lined the roads of the funeral procession. Yarden’s sister shared a heartfelt statement about seeing the country mourning with them.

For several reasons, including my special attention to their place settings in Hostage Square just a few hours before the tragic announcement, I decided to attend the public shiva (the seven days of mourning that family members observe immediately after the death and burial of a loved one).

Hundreds of people were in the shiva hall. A constant influx of thousands more waited outside until there was space inside. Upon my entry into the hall, I was told Yarden Bibas was taking a break. The moment he came back, a large crowd of people began walking towards him. They all simply wanted to personally console him.

For obvious reasons, saying that Yarden looked emotionally burnt out would be a severe understatement. Here was a man that had just been released from a hellish captivity, only to find out soon afterwards that he was no longer a husband, nor a father.

Barriers were set up in front of Yarden and his family. To give them some semblance of privacy, rather than seeing a crowd of onlookers staring in their direction. The barriers also formed a line to manage the flow of those waiting to pay their respects.

I get that we, as a country, also grieve for any and all victims. It can be impossible to know which hostage families can both handle and even be emotionally aided by this level of condolences and support. Seeing the emotionally drained look when Yarden came in, I personally didn’t feel that my one face and a brief interaction with him would make a difference.

However, I still wanted to at least try and do something for the Bibas family while I was there. So, I asked the people setting up the barriers (who may have been family friends) if there was anything I could do to help. They politely declined my offer.

Still, as some friends of mine always say, “Never underestimate the power of your presence.” Even though I chose not to have a face-to-face interaction with Yarden, at the very least I was still present. In her grief, his sister might not have even noticed if only a single individual was standing vigil along the route of the funeral procession. What she noticed was the thousands of people standing side-by-side.

At the very least, I was one of the people who had come and gone from that hall (a single drop that raised the sea) and showed Yarden and his family that we, as a people and as a nation, were present for him. As well as for his wife and two children and the grief we felt toward the loss of their light.

To move forward into a better world as a people; as a nation; as the entirety of the human race; we can never forget what our presence means. No matter how big or small it might be. Joy and sadness do not have to be, and should not be, things that any one of us bears alone. Sharing such things, no matter how disconnected we might be from the source of such feelings, is what can unify us.

DANIEL STIEGLITZ (dstieglitz@gmail.com), originally from Rhode Island, immigrated to Israel in 2007 and currently lives in Jerusalem. He works in a nursery school for visually impaired children via the Jerusalem Municipality. His collection of short stories, “Tavern of the Mind,” is available for paperback and Kindle purchase on Amazon. www.amzn.to/2Izssrz.