Finding Resilience Through Music: Yarin Naktalov's Journey

When singer Yarin Naktalov talks about her childhood, she recalls a traumatic episode she experienced when a classmate brought a ham sandwich to school. "He made sure to eat it right in front of me while other kids giggled behind him," she shares. This was a defining moment in her life journey, which included social ostracism at school, reconnecting with tradition and Hashem, coping with her husband's injury during the war, and discovering inner strength through her music.

Born in Kfar Saba, Yarin was the eldest child in a religious family. "My early childhood was very good and happy," she says. At age seven, her parents divorced. "The divorce shook us all. Both of my parents became secular, and my younger brother, who was five at the time, and I moved with our mother to Hod Hasharon." Naktalov explains that while Kfar Saba and Hod Hasharon are geographically close, their mentalities are completely different.

Following the move, Naktalov began attending a non-religious school in Hod Hasharon. "I was in third grade, entering a class that was already formed, and I didn’t fit in. It started well but quickly turned into social isolation. Coming from a home with a connection to tradition, I became the 'religious' kid in class," she adds. "I had a few friends, but many classmates teased me, called me names, and mocked me." After the incident with the ham, the class teacher reprimanded those involved sternly, but generally, those years were socially challenging for her.

Whispering Prayers to a Box of Dolls

"My extended family was central in my life, giving me a warm family space, but in my social challenges, I chose not to share and dealt with it alone. Music was my outlet, and today I realize it was also my form of prayer." Naktalov recalls with a smile that she had a box of porcelain fairies into which she would whisper heartfelt requests during distress.

When the time came to choose a middle school, Naktalov informed her mother that she would not continue to the same school as her classmates, opting instead for a religious school. "Not because I was particularly interested in religion, but I remembered having a good experience at the religious school in Kfar Saba, so that’s what I requested."

At that time, there was no religious middle school in Hod Hasharon, so Naktalov moved to a religious school in Kfar Saba, where she thrived socially. "There was a huge difference between school hours, where I behaved religiously, wearing a skirt and praying, and home where we were not observant. Socially, I was in a good place."

The change happened when she almost accidentally attended a religious youth movement in Kfar Saba. For the first time, she was exposed to Shabbat songs for the third meal, and something stirred in her. "I always loved music, and these holy songs lit something in my soul. I connected with the discussions about ideals and the meaning of mitzvot. For the first time, I understood that observing Shabbat, for example, meant more than just tradition—there is a whole world behind it." She gradually began to observe kashrut and Shabbat, and dressed modestly even outside school hours. Her prayers also gained more significance. "I realized I needed Hashem with me. After everything I had been through, I felt supported and not alone in the world."

How did your family react to the changes in you?

"They overall respected the changes. Yet, I continued to travel on Shabbat because that was the reality at home, and I couldn’t change it alone at such a young age. We would travel to Kiddush with my grandparents and on sightseeing trips, which created a huge dissonance for me. I was religious in almost all aspects of life, but I traveled on Shabbat."

Naktalov recalls a Shabbat when, during a drive, they passed by the youth group branch she used to attend. "I felt so uncomfortable and immediately ducked so they wouldn’t see me. But beyond that, I asked myself: 'What am I doing in a car on Shabbat? I want to be with them there.'"

"Just Want You"

One Friday night, Naktalov traveled with her mother and brother for Kiddush at her grandparents. "One of my aunts asked: 'Yarin, why are you wearing a skirt every week?' and my mother replied: 'Don’t you know? Yarin is already religious.' Then came the comment that shattered me. From the head of the table, my grandfather said, 'How is she religious? She drives on Shabbat.' It was a wake-up call for me. We got home, and I unequivocally announced that from now on, I would not drive on Shabbat."

Ahead of the next Friday night Kiddush, Naktalov made every effort to ensure they would set out before Shabbat began. "I organized everything and reminded everyone repeatedly. In practice, Shabbat arrived and we still hadn’t left, and that’s when I broke down. I went to my room, burst into tears, and pleaded with Hashem: 'I just want You, why is it so hard?' When I finished, after praying deeply to Hashem, I had a strong inner feeling that my prayer had been heard. Immediately after, my mother came into my room and said: 'Yarin, I promise you, this is the last time you’ll drive on Shabbat.' And indeed, it was."

Naktalov gradually grew closer to Judaism, deepening her observance of the Torah and mitzvot. She finished high school, went on to national service in Jewish education, and entered a religious seminary. "The seminary greatly strengthened me both religiously and spiritually, giving me a taste of what a Torah life is. Among other things, I learned about halachot such as immersing utensils. I took a friend, collected all the kitchenware at home, and went to immerse them."

During her time at the seminary, Naktalov met her husband Yohanan through a friend’s matchmaking. They got married and over the years had three children. With the outbreak of the war, Yohanan, who serves as a combat engineering officer, was called to reserves on the northern border. "A week and a half after the war began, we finally spoke on the phone for the first time. Suddenly Yohanan shouted: 'They’re firing at us with anti-tank missiles,' there was a huge explosion, and the call was cut off. It really hit me where my husband was." She describes sleepless nights filled with anxiety, with the only solace being the recitation of Psalms. Her fear for her husband’s fate led her to write a song titled 'Ein Laila' (No Night), describing what she was going through. "Music has always been a significant anchor for me, a way to express heartfelt prayers and moments of elevation. I received touching responses to the song, which gave me a lot of strength."

Performing for women (Credit: Koreen Shira)

One night, as Naktalov returned from a women’s event in Beit Shemesh, the city where they lived, she had a strong internal feeling that she should pray for her husband. "I heard a virtue from Rabbanit Rachel Bazak, saying that when you want to pray for a soldier in battle, you can imagine him surrounded by the letters of Hashem’s name."

An hour later, she was informed of her husband's injury. In retrospect, she says her prayer was exactly at the time he was injured. "Hezbollah terrorists targeted my husband and his soldier, and fired two anti-tank missiles at them in succession. By great miracles, the missiles hit five meters away from him. The terrorists filmed the launch, and the video clearly shows the hit so close and the smoke rising around. It’s unbelievable they survived such an attack." Yohanan was injured by shrapnel all over his body, his condition was classified as moderate to severe, and he was airlifted to Rambam Hospital in Haifa. Naktalov adds that during the evacuation, another missile was fired at the rescue teams, which, with Hashem’s help, did not hit anyone.

"Not Alone"

"When the army called me to tell about the injury, I immediately said 'I knew it.' I couldn’t go to the hospital right then because I was home alone with our three small children. I talked to my brother-in-law, who reassured me and said: 'I’ll go to Haifa now, meanwhile, you sleep and come tomorrow morning.' Of course, I didn’t sleep that night," she laughs.

"The next day, I dropped off the kids and went to him. I saw Yohanan lying swollen and injured all over his body, but breathing and alive. The first words I said were 'A Psalm of Thanksgiving.' Yohanan's healing process was accompanied by great miracles. A large shard of shrapnel was removed from his abdomen, which had nestled near vital organs but did not damage them. "Everything with him was 'almost': the shrapnel almost entered the intestine, an important nerve almost tore. But just 'almost,' nothing was damaged completely." Two days after the injury, he was transferred to Ichilov Hospital in Tel Aviv, and Naktalov cannot find enough words to praise the devoted medical staff there, who enveloped them with endless care and dedication.

"At first, I was always by his side, and my mom helped a lot with the kids. After a few days, she gently said it wasn’t easy for the kids that I was absent. Throughout the months of his reserves, I was their parental figure and anchor. We realized it was better for me to be with them when they were home. So, every morning I took them to their schools, drove from Beit Shemesh to Ichilov, accompanied Yohanan in treatments, and at two in the afternoon, I’d leave him and go back to the kids."

Yohanan after the injury

What gave you strength during this time?

"Music, unequivocally. I recorded 'Ein Laila' at this time; it's also my first song. Every time I entered the studio, I felt like I could breathe again."

About a month later, Yohanan was discharged home and began his rehabilitation at Hadassah Hospital on Mount Scopus. "From the day of the injury, every morning when I arrived at the hospital, I recited the 'Psalm of Thanksgiving.' On the fortieth day, he was discharged for rehabilitation." Since their home had a staircase that made it difficult for Yohanan, the couple decided to move to another apartment. Meanwhile, Naktalov left her job and began driving her husband daily to rehab in Jerusalem.

Five months after the injury, while still in rehabilitation, Yohanan received another call-up notice, this time to Gaza. "To me, it was clear that he wouldn’t go, but he immediately clarified that there’s no way he wouldn’t join his soldiers entering Gaza. That’s the spirit that accompanies the soldiers in rehab; they have one goal: to succeed in returning to battle."

Yohanan heading to Gaza, five months after the injury

Was he medically fit to return to combat?

"Medically, no, but for him—definitely," she laughs. "It wasn’t easy for me to return to that stress again. We were a week after moving house, and after five intense months of hospitalization and rehabilitation, but I’m proud of him." She adds that today, about a year and a half after the injury, her husband’s medical condition is good, thankfully.

At the end of the conversation, Naktalov shares that after Yohanan's injury, she recorded a song titled "You Are Not Alone." She explains that the song encapsulates her life journey: from social struggles in her childhood to returning to religious practice on her own, and finally during the injury and rehabilitation period. "I want every woman to feel what accompanied me. The cry of 'You are not alone' is not just my cry. I think that in this generation, we all need to hear and remember that we aren’t alone, and there is 'Someone' above who accompanies us."

The Naktalov Family (Credit: Avishag Buskila)