A Yoga Teacher, an IDF Soldier, and an Antisemite Walk into a Restaurant

Love as the Last Line of Defense

BROTHERS IN YOGA

They came to New York not as politicians or preachers, but as witnesses.

Two Israelis — one a yoga therapist who guides soldiers through the silent aftermath of war, the other a young man who escaped the Nova Music Festival massacre, later, as an IDF soldier, fought in Gaza and Lebanon, and now lives with the tremors of PTSD — stood before us and told their stories.

Their presence felt like an offering: two souls who had walked through fire, carrying not anger, but grace.

From the Nova Desert to the Yoga Mat

The young soldier’s story began on October 7th.

He ran through the dust and chaos of the Nova Music Festival, chased by terrorists who sought only to destroy joy.

Days later, he found himself in uniform, fighting in Gaza and then in Lebanon — the same hands that once reached for rhythm and light now gripping a rifle.

When the war ended, the battles within him did not. Nightmares, tremors, isolation — the unseen consequences of survival.

Eventually, he found his way to Brothers in Yoga — a trauma-sensitive program in Israel where veterans learn to breathe again.

Over four months, soldiers practice yoga, meditation, and self-inquiry, reconnecting with their bodies and with life itself. They speak of “post-traumatic growth,” of the possibility that pain, when met consciously, can become a path toward awakening.

The yoga therapist who accompanied him had devoted her life to this very work — teaching combat veterans how to soften what war had hardened. Together, they came here to share not just their experiences, but a practice of remembrance — how to remember one’s humanity after violence.

Encounter in the City of Light and Shadows

They expected curiosity, maybe empathy. What they found instead was hatred.

While eating in a restaurant in New York — the second largest Jewish city in the world — a young man burst in and hurled antisemitic slurs.

The words, now too familiar, sliced through the air: old poison in modern packaging.

But what happened next was astonishing.

The soldier, who had faced death on the battlefield, and the yoga therapist, who had witnessed countless traumas unfold in her students, looked at him calmly and said:

“We love you.”

Three words — simple, disarming, radical.

The man froze. His fury deflated like air escaping a balloon. He turned and walked out.

I sat with that moment for a long time — the inversion of power, the quiet triumph of awareness over rage.

These two Israelis had faced the worst of humanity and yet somehow found a way to respond with love. It wasn’t the sentimental kind; it was disciplined compassion — the kind born of deep practice, of having seen the edge of annihilation and choosing life anyway.

The Shock of Firsts

What stunned me most was that this was their first encounter with antisemitism.

In Israel, hatred comes in the form of rockets, not rhetoric. There, the conflict is visible. Here, it hides behind slogans and social acceptability.

That they met antisemitism for the first time in this city — this supposed refuge — reveals something chilling: even in the diaspora’s beating heart, ignorance festers.

And yet, their response was not despair, but understanding. They saw the young man’s outburst not as personal hatred but as disconnection—a symptom of spiritual amnesia. He did not know who they were. He did not even know who he was.

Understanding Antisemitism in a Disconnected World

Antisemitism today often masquerades as moral concern. It disguises itself as politics, solidarity, or critique — but beneath the surface lies something more ancient and irrational: the projection of one’s own disowned darkness onto a people who have long served as history’s mirror.

When the connection to one’s own soul is severed, when empathy erodes, the “other” becomes the vessel for everything we cannot face within ourselves.

That is what hatred feeds on — absence, not presence.

The Israelis’ act of love did not excuse the hatred; it transcended it. It illuminated it for what it was — a cry from someone who has forgotten the oneness that binds us all.

Their love was not weakness. It was spiritual judo: using compassion to neutralize aggression.

From Wounds to Wisdom

The Brothers in Yoga program embodies this transformation.

Founded to help Israeli combat veterans heal from PTSD, it offers a model for what the world desperately needs: not the suppression of pain, but its integration.

In their practice, soldiers learn that trauma is stored not just in the mind, but in the body — in the breath, the heartbeat, the subtle tremors that echo long after the battle ends.

By turning toward their wounds rather than away from them, they discover what ancient yogis and mystics have always known: that the body remembers, and through that remembrance, healing can begin.

Perhaps the same is true of our collective body—the human family.

The hatred rising across our world is not new; it is ancestral trauma resurfacing. And just as these Israelis learned to breathe through their pain, perhaps we, too, can learn to breathe through ours — to face what we have buried in fear and bring it back into the light.

Choosing Love Anyway

When the soldier and the therapist said “We love you”, they were not preaching. They were practicing.

They embodied what it means to turn the heart outward, even when the world turns inward.

Their story reminds us that healing is not passive. It is a courageous act — the refusal to let darkness dictate our response.

In an age where antisemitism, polarization, and fear surge like old ghosts resurrected, their message is urgent.

Love is not naïve. It is revolutionary.

Love is what happens when remembrance meets courage.

And in that remembrance, we rediscover what it means to be human.

Support the Healing: Brothers in Yoga

The Brothers in Yoga initiative is not merely a wellness program — it is a lifeline.

Founded in Israel to help combat veterans process trauma and rediscover meaning beyond the battlefield, the program offers structured retreats that blend yoga, breathwork, meditation, and community healing. Over four transformative months, participants learn to regulate their nervous systems, reconnect with their bodies, and reclaim a sense of peace that war had stolen.

Each soldier who completes the program carries forward a message that transcends borders: healing is possible — not by forgetting the pain, but by meeting it with courage and compassion.

You can be part of this healing movement. Your contribution helps provide scholarships for veterans who cannot afford the program, supports trauma-sensitive instructor training, and expands outreach to more soldiers in need.

Learn more or donate: Brothers in Yoga.

Every act of support — financial or simply sharing their story — ripples outward. When we help one soldier find peace within, we help heal the collective wound that binds us all.