The Live-Saving Painter
By Rabbi YY Jacobson
Elyasaf Mariah is a kind and humble man, a painter living in southern Israel. His story, which he shared with me, continues to inspire me each day.
For years, the relentless barrage of rockets from Gaza had left the residents of southern Israel with mere seconds - five, ten, twenty, at most thirty - to seek cover. In response to this ever-present threat, Israel constructed miguniyot - standalone, steel-reinforced bomb shelters—on nearly every street corner in the south, designed to withstand artillery fire.
Now, picture a young mother and her children huddled inside one of these shelters as rockets rained down around them. Though these structures offered physical protection, their stark, gray concrete exteriors only added to the sense of fear and isolation
Enter Elyasaf, the painter. With his palette and brushes in hand, he began transforming these shelters - both inside and out. A flock of birds in flight. The brilliance of a sunrise. A splash of vibrant color. A child’s laughter immortalized in paint. A graceful animal. A majestic mountain. A breathtaking landscape.
With each stroke, he infused these lifelines with warmth and serenity, reminding the trembling Jews within, that beyond these walls, there was still beauty in the world. And he was meticulous - each shelter bore a unique painting, giving it a distinct identity and character. The community cherished him, grateful for his kindness and sensitivity. And that was that - until the horrors of October 7th.
Sirens blared. Thousands of rockets rained down upon Israel. Civilians fled to the nearest miguniyot, desperate for safety. At the Nova Music Festival, thousands of young Jews ran in all directions, searching for shelter. Moments later, the unthinkable became reality - terrorists had infiltrated Israel in a brutal massacre, a modern-day pogrom.
Huddled together inside these bomb shelters, panicked civilians began making frantic calls. “Please, come save us. We are inside a migunit, a bomb shelter.”
"Where are you? Which shelter?" came the desperate replies. But how could anyone find them? With hundreds of identical shelters scattered across the region, locating a single one was like searching for a needle in a haystack.
The trapped civilians didn’t have an address. The only thing they could describe was the artwork - the images painted on the walls of their shelter.
The next morning, Elyasaf’s phone erupted with calls and messages from frantic family members. The only clue we have is a painting, they told him. Our loved ones sent us pictures - a butterfly with two small boys chasing it, a girl in a green dress holding a white balloon.
Call after call described one of Elyasaf’s murals. But he knew exactly where each shelter was, because he remembered every painting he had created. Shelter by shelter, he guided families and rescue teams to their precise locations, helping save countless lives.
We often fail to recognize the true impact of our work. Had you asked Elyasaf on October 6, 2023, “What do you do for a living?” He likely would have answered, “I’m just a simple painter. Nothing dramatic.”
But he wouldn’t have realized the significance of what he had been doing. He would think that he is merely adding color to concrete walls. In reality, though, he had unknowingly created a life-saving system - a network of markers that, on one of the darkest days in Jewish history, became beacons of help and hope.
Because wherever we are and whatever we do is guided by Divine Providence. And when we give our whole heart to our work - planting seeds of goodness, kindness, and love - we can never fully grasp the magnitude of what we are accomplishing.
Consider this.
Had the police contacted the Chief of Staff of the IDF, the Israeli Minister of Defense, the head of Mossad, the head of Shin Bet, or even the Prime Minister himself, not a single one of them would have been able to locate those shelters. There was only one person in all of Israel who could - Elyasaf Mariah.
The Talmud teaches: "Each person must say, ‘For my sake, the world was created’” (Sanhedrin 37a). We often struggle to believe this. Really? For me, the entire world was created?
But Elyasaf’s story proves it so. There was something only he could accomplish - something no one else in Israel, or even the world, could have done.
We often see ourselves as ordinary people, simply trying to make it through life. But this is a shallow perspective.
Judaism teaches that G-d tells each of us, “I need you. No matter where you are, what you do, your emotional state, or your circumstances - your presence in this world is purposeful. You are here to save lives, to lift hearts, and to bring light into the darkness.”
Like Elyasaf, you have something to offer that no one else can. And G-d is waiting for you to paint your picture and to illuminate the world with your unique light.
Reprinted from an email of TorahAnytimes.com Newsletter.
