The Light Still Playing

I was in the South with a friend when he told me about a memorial for an IDF soldier who had been killed in the war.

So, on the way home from a desert trip, we stopped by.

There was a plaque with his photo overlooking nature. When you pressed a button there, you could hear people speaking about him. You could hear music recordings his family had shared.

You could feel him.

And his name was Uri Bar-Or.

Music wasn’t just something he liked, it was central to who he was. He composed complex classical works, mixing it up with rock influences and other beats. And at 18, one of the pieces he wrote was even performed by the Israeli Chamber Orchestra on his birthday.

I learned that his mentor believed he would become one of Israel’s most important composers. That his talent wasn’t ordinary, it was rare.

I learned that beyond music, he taught children chess, math, and physics. He shared everything he knew—guitars, drums, even magic tricks and Rubik’s Cube strategies—with anyone simply because he wanted to give.

I learned that he was born in Midreshet Ben Gurion, in the desert itself. That he was described as an old soul in a young body, that the same inner voice that led him to compose also led him to enlist in the Nachal Brigade and serve as an IDF combat soldier defending our country.

After we left, we happened to drive past a house with the name Bar-Or on a sign outside with a small guitar on it. I don’t fully know why, but I felt the need to knock.

Noah, his mother, who I didn’t know, opened the door. I introduced myself, told her we’d just been at the memorial, that we’d heard his story and music, and she let me in.

Standing there speaking to a mother whose door I’d knocked on—a mother who waited years for her firstborn son, whom she named Uri (light) and then lost in Rafah on May 28, 2024—it’s impossible to put into words.

It’s hard to say anything to her.

But I promised her I’d make a tribute to her son and share it with the world - and this is it.

I didn’t know Uri, but I stood in the desert and heard what he created. I stood in his family’s home and felt what he left behind.

Uri left light.

Uri left music.

And somehow, out there in the desert, it’s still playing.

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#imthatjew