Bar Kupershtein: Not Just a Tehillim Name
In the spring of my junior year, I received a text from a student whose number I didn’t have in my contacts, asking how she could help with initiatives on campus to support Israel.
This unidentified number in my phone, Bailee Schwartz, quickly became a close friend. I partnered with her in trying to help our fellow students feel more connected to Am Yisrael’s story as it unfolded before our eyes. Every single day for the entire 2024–2025 academic year, Bailee would write a biographical sketch of a different fallen chayal, and we would hang it up with a reminder of how many days the hostages had been in captivity. She inspired me to continue even after the count far surpassed 365.
Recently, I spoke to Rav Shay Schachter about the difficulty I’ve been feeling with continuing to connect to the war and to the continued plight of Am Yisrael. Rav Shay has been a constant source of inspiration to me and my peers in his incredible activism and immense chessed since Oct. 7. We spoke about different possibilities for action, one of which is an emerging project to memorialize fallen soldiers on their yahrtzeit, for which a database was created by Remi Kahan (SSSB ‘26). Rav Shay mentioned yet another opportunity — his shul was bringing in former hostage Bar Kupershtein in the coming week to speak at the Young Israel of Woodmere.
To me, he was Bar Avraham ben Julia. He was the hostage I had been davening for since Oct. 7. His picture was in my Rosh Hashanah machzor. An interview with Bar’s mother inspired me to be more active in my commitment to Am Yisrael. And on Oct. 13, when I woke up in my grandparents’ home in Israel, Bar had finally returned to his family after 738 days in captivity.
The day of Bar’s arrival in Manhattan, I was especially busy. Due to other responsibilities, I almost changed my mind about hearing Bar speak. But once again, a text from my friend Bailee impacted me significantly — she shared that she had been looking forward to going. I thought about it for a moment and realized that I really wanted to go, so I called her back and told her that I changed my mind.
After a train ride from Grand Central Station to Woodmere, we arrived at the shul. Pretty soon, the room was packed.
Bar walked in, and I immediately felt the pattern of my breath change. Bar Kupershtein was standing just a few feet in front of me. I have had the opportunity to hear different former hostages speak, but something about this felt different. I felt connected to him, his family and his story. “Bar Avraham ben Julia,” I heard a woman whisper to her friend. “I always say his name.” As I looked at him, I thought of his picture and name in my machzor. It hit me that he is real, his pain is real and he is more than a name in my Tehillim.
He shared his story with us, and in doing so, he shared a piece of himself. He walked us through the day of Oct. 7, when he drove back and forth, to and from the Nova site, using his skills as a medic to save as many people as he could. He helped us understand the moments in which he thanked Hashem for being taken hostage as opposed to being killed by bullets. He shared with us what went through his head when a terrorist asked him “where’s your G-d now?” He thought about it — What would his mother say? She would tell him that his G-d is still there and is watching to see how he is going to overcome this nisayon, difficult test. Bar spent 738 days in hell. He guided us through only a few of those days.
As he told his story, my heart and throat felt heavy — how could someone go through such unimaginable pain? But this feeling of pain was complemented by an immense amount of awe and inspiration. I have never heard someone use the words “Borei Olam,” creator of the world, so many times. Bar recognized G-d’s hand in every moment of his hardship. After his talk, he led the crowd in a line-by-line recitation of perek 100 in Tehillim, Mizmor L’Todah, the Psalm for thanks. Bar’s expression of gratitude to G-d, despite his deeply painful experiences, pushed me to reevaluate the ways in which I recognize Hashem’s goodness in my life.
At the end of the night, Bailee and I waited in line to speak to him. I was feeling nervous. What do I say to someone I had been praying for for two years? What is there to say to someone who experienced some of the darkest moments in our nation’s history?
I said a few words in Hebrew, expressing my gratitude to him, as well as all of our love and tefilot. Then, in the few seconds I had, I showed him a picture of the hostage wall in the lobby of the 245 Lexington building that we dedicated at the start of the school year when the hostages were still in tunnels. I then swiped to a picture of the lobby today, where we displayed images of hostages reuniting with their families upon their return this past Simchat Torah. Bar Kupershtein’s poster was in both images. In the first, he was a hostage in the depths of hell. In the second, he was a free individual being embraced by his mother and father. 795 days after Oct. 7, I was speaking to the former hostage behind the poster.
He said one word — “Woah.”
As Bailee and I sat on the empty 10:24 p.m. train back to Grand Central Terminal, all we could say was “Woah.” We had just met a Jewish hero — Bar Avraham ben Julia.
Photo caption: Bar Kupershtein speaking at Young Israel of Woodmere
Photo Credit: Rebecca Henner
