Amedi—himself recently wounded in combat—spoke on behalf of the soldiers who filled the room: fighters who had left the battlefield with lasting scars and found healing in community, music, and sport.

He shared his surreal experience waking up in the hospital after surgery, only to learn that Israel’s top leadership—including the Prime Minister, Defense Minister, and Chief of Staff—had been asking after him. Even through the haze of pain medication, one thing was clear: he wanted to speak to Beitar legend Eli Ohana. “It was the first thing I thought of,” he said, drawing laughter from the audience. A massive Beitar flag had been hung over his bed, he recalled fondly—placed there by his doctor, a fan of rival team Hapoel Tel Aviv.

The event, hosted by MOTJ in partnership with Beitar Jerusalem, was organized to honor the club’s supporters who were wounded while serving in Israel’s current war. The event blurred the lines between sports, sacrifice, and civic resilience, held in a space designed for exactly that kind of cross-cultural connection.

Dr. Granit Almog-Bareket, MOTJ’s Director of Leadership Programs, called the evening “unique” and emblematic of the museum’s broader mission. 

“The Museum of Tolerance Jerusalem acts as a bridge,” she said, “creating connections between worlds, cultures, and generations.” She drew a striking parallel between the black and yellow of Beitar Jerusalem and the museum’s “From Darkness to Light” exhibit. “Black represents the pain, the struggle, and the memory. Yellow symbolizes hope—the rising light of recovery and renewal.”
“It’s not just a soccer team,” she added. “It’s a source of healing in a supportive community.”

Comedian Asi Israelof, a devoted Beitar fan, emceed the program, which included appearances from Economy and Industry Minister Nir Barkat, singer Itzik Kalah, Jerusalem Municipality CEO Itzhak Larry, former hostage Karina Ariev, and current and past Beitar players. A panel discussion followed, with Lt. Col. Daniel Ella recounting the moment he was wounded in combat and how he continued to track Beitar’s performance even during military operations. “A win could lift us; a loss hit us hard,” he said simply.

Minister Barkat—himself wounded during his army service—spoke candidly about the emotional and physical challenges of recovery. “Being a warrior is something from within. It’s a desire to serve. It’s unconditional love for the country,” he said, calling Beitar a reflection of Jerusalem’s soul. “The success of Beitar Jerusalem is the success of Jerusalem—and of the State of Israel.”

As several speakers noted, since October 7, Beitar has been more than a team. The club rapidly transformed into a kind of national support center, mobilizing to assist evacuees, provide aid to wounded soldiers, and accompany bereaved families. “It became something incredible,” said team spokesperson Asaf Nahum. “We did whatever we could—bringing kids to practices, visiting hospitals, offering comfort.”
Larry emphasized the psychological weight of Beitar’s return to the field in the early weeks of the war. “At Beitar’s games, you saw hope,” he said. “It was a demonstration of resilience, not just for fans but for all of us—Jerusalemites and the nation.”

In hosting the event, the Museum of Tolerance reaffirmed its commitment to serving as more than a museum. It has become a civic stage—a gathering place for pain and pride, grief and joy, tradition and transformation. In moments like these, it becomes clear that the MOTJ isn’t just showcasing history or promoting tolerance—it’s actively shaping the story of a society working to heal.

And, as Amedi reminded everyone in the room, healing isn’t only found in hospitals. Sometimes it’s found in a cheer, a goal, a flag above your bed—or a standing ovation from your heroes.