Here is just one example. On my first trip to the Otef (Israel's Gaza border region) after October 7 I visited moshav Netiv Ha'asara which sits right along the border with Gaza, close to the northern Gaza towns of Bet Hanoun and Bet Lahia. On October 7 Hamas terrorists paraglided into the village and started on a murder spree of the moshav's residents. Yet more terrorists smashed through the nearby border fence in pickup trucks. In total about 35 heavily armed terrorists rampaged through the moshav while the small village emergency response team valiantly tried to mount a defence.
In total 21 Israelis from the moshav were murdered in their homes.
Among them were Yaakov "Yaacobi" and Bilhaa Yinon.
As long as I live I will not forget standing by the ruins of their burnt out home mere weeks after they were burnt alive inside it.
Bilhaa was an artist. In her beautiful garden, which was mostly intact, there were all kinds of whimsical ceramic sculptures and decorations, bright, vibrant, full of life as she had been, in stark contrast to the charred wreckage of their modest home. The parts of the garden closest to the fire bore the tell tale signs of the fierce heat from the flames, tips of plastic planters that had started to melt, blackened scorch marks on the ends of wooden railway sleepers. The fire burned so fiercely that Bilhaa's remains were only positively identified this August - from a few teeth that were all that was left of her.
The garden was a testament to Yaakov's life's work - agronomist, farmer, gardener, an agricultural mentor and guide to farms across the Negev. His specialty was field crops and he taught generations of agronomists and farmers across the Negev how to grow better yields, trained them in new techniques and pioneered farming suited to the harsh growing conditions of southern Israel.
He worked closely with the renowned Volcani Institute, Israel's premiere agricultural research centre founded in 1921 by agronomist Yitzhak Elazari Volcani. One of the prime goals of the Volcani centre has been literally making the desert bloom, adapting farming technology and developing new strains of crops suited to the arid climate to increase food security for all those living in similar environments.
For a hundred years the centre has not only engaged in research, but also trained local farmers. Agronomy students come from around the world to learn and engage in research while training programmes spread this vital knowledge to students from across the developing world, including from the Palestinian Authority.
Yaakov Yinon was deeply involved in all of this, passing on his knowledge to new generations, helping farmers around the Negev and around the world grow better and more abundant crops with limited water resources.
He participated in scores of Volcani research projects and in recent years advised researchers and supervised the field crops grown at the Volcani institute's research farm.
When Hamas murdered Yaakov in his home on October 7 they murdered an Israeli who's knowledge and research had helped to feed their own people in Gaza, a man who believed in coexistence and who was the father of a prominent Israeli peace activist. Maybe that was exactly the reason they murdered him. Maybe they had no idea who he was, they were just out to murder any and all Israelis.
In memory of Yaakov and his tremendous contribution to agriculture the Volcani Institute have named a new strain of wheat after him, Yaacobi wheat. This variety of wheat was developed jointly by Dr Ro'i Ben -David and Kamal Nashef to be a high yield bread wheat suitable for growing across the Negev desert region, able to provide a stable, quality yield even under challenging growing conditions.
In the wake of the 1973 Yom Kippur War when kibbutz Beit Hasheeta in the Jezreel Valley lost many of its young men in the fighting. Dorit Tzameret, a resident of the kibbutz, wrote a poignant poem, later put to music, about the seeming indifference of the natural world continuing the cycle of the seasons as the residents of the valley tried to come to terms with their terrible losses. At once a tragic song of grief and mourning it also came to symbolise resilience, the wheat will grow again, the promise of a future even in the face of such tragedy.
In the wake of the 1973 Yom Kippur War when kibbutz Beit Hasheeta in the Jezreel Valley lost many of its young men in the fighting. Dorit Tzameret, a resident of the kibbutz, wrote a poignant poem, later put to music, about the seeming indifference of the natural world continuing the cycle of the seasons as the residents of the valley tried to come to terms with their terrible losses. At once a tragic song of grief and mourning it also came to symbolise resilience, the wheat will grow again, the promise of a future even in the face of such tragedy.
In the Gaza border area, another wheat growing region of Israel, this song has taken on extra meaning since October 7. The fields of wheat in the north-west Negev are here literally covering over the horrific scars of the Hamas invasion. I know that I'm not alone in feeling the tears well up this winter when I saw the fresh green shoots of wheat sprouting again, planted by farmers right after the invasion, a very physical sign of healing and also of defiance in the face of the Hamas assault.
And now Yaacobi wheat, wherever it grows, will continue Yaakov Yinon's lifelong mission to promote better agriculture and food security in the world's most arid regions. The wheat will grow and with it his memory.
May the memories of Yaakov and Bilhaa be blessed.
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