"The Angel of the Wounded": The man who turned personal tragedy into a mission
Without titles, without a uniform, and at his own private expense: Malkiel Lerner arrives at the bedsides of wounded IDF soldiers within the first 24 hours after their injury to give them hope. In a candid interview with Oded Harush, he tells of the post-trauma that led him to find his calling.
For three decades, without an official organization behind him and with very meager means, Malkiel Lerner has dedicated his life to one thing only: to lift up those who have fallen. For thousands of wounded IDF soldiers and victims of hostilities who arrive in their most difficult moments at the rehabilitation and trauma wards in hospitals, Malkiel is not just another guest — he is an anchor of hope. In a reality of uncertainty, he appears within the first 24 hours after the injury, peeks into the circle of family and friends, and reminds them that the people of Israel have not forgotten them for a moment.
"I realized I have a role in the world"
Lerner's life story is the foundation upon which his mission was built. In his youth, he suffered a severe head injury that led to 19 years of struggle with post-trauma, confusion, and a sense of emptiness. The turning point came on February 25, 1996, the day of the severe terror attack on bus line 18 in Jerusalem.
When he arrived at the hospital to meet the family of one of the critically wounded, Dana Shimshon, to whom the doctors gave no chance of survival, he chose to reveal his personal story: "I told the parents, 'If I went through this and managed to overcome my injury, I promise you that Dana will also get out of this.' Who am I to take on roles that aren't mine? But the moment I said it, I said I must invest all of myself in this story."
A year and a half later, Lerner had the privilege of standing on the side and seeing Dana walking to her wedding canopy. At that moment, as he burst into tears, he realized he had found his calling.
A "little angel" in his pocket
Lerner's method is unique and stems from a deep understanding of the broken soul. He arrives at the hospital, reads a warm personal greeting, and then pulls from his bag an object that has become a trademark — an Israeli flag on which is embroidered the inscription "I salute you, my brother."
"I tell the wounded: 'This flag is like a little angel sitting on your shoulder, and every time you are down or in pain, the little angel will whisper in your ear: Get up, fighter, because the people of Israel love you.'"
In addition to the flag, he invented a unique therapeutic tool of his own: "The notebook of the meteor who managed to rise." He asks the wounded to write on the first page the full story of the injury, on the last page their dreams for ten years from now, and in the middle all the fears and pains. Based on decades of experience, Lerner believes that releasing deep burdens from the head allows the soul to be free again to dream and fulfill.
There is volunteering and there is a mission
Many wonder how a man who worked for many years as a street cleaner for the Jerusalem Municipality and later as a cashier at the "Osher Ad" chain manages to fund constant bus trips between hospitals across the country while raising a family. Lerner's answer is unequivocal: "There is such a thing as volunteering and there is such a thing as a mission, and when I realized that accompanying the wounded is my mission, then nothing moves me... How much is it worth to bring back a smile and hope to a wounded person? There is no money for that."
Even when his children ask him how it is possible that after 30 years of tremendous work he has never received an official mark of appreciation or an award from the state, Lerner holds no grudge and does not seek the spotlight. From his perspective, the greatest reward has already been given to him in the field: "Their rehabilitation — that is my reward."
The sky is the limit
Lerner, who himself deals with the consequences of his injury, is accustomed to reciting to the wounded the acronym for the word "Ashir" (rich) — eyes (einayim), teeth (shinayim), hands (yadayim), head (rosh). His message is distilled and poignant: as long as the head controls the disability and not the disability the head, the path is open and the sky is the limit.
At a time when Israeli society is dealing with thousands of physically and mentally wounded, Malkiel Lerner's story is a powerful reminder of the power of true unconditional love. One man, without a uniform and without official titles, who proves every day that sometimes all it takes to lift a fighter from the floor is someone who sits beside him, holds his hand, and reminds him who he really is.
