Chaim Heber, a close friend of Rabbi Zvi Kogan shares his own feelings: “Zvi changed my life in countless impactful ways, but the most notable was how I approach life. He never lost his cool—even when there was reason to. Zvi gave me the practical tools to navigate life’s roller coasters with laughter and resilience.”
By Chaim Heber – Chabad.org
The Jewish world is mourning Zvi Kogan, a trendsetting rabbi who did so much for Judaism in the UAE.
But for me, Zvi was more than that. He was my roommate (when we were both single), he was my light (when I needed a pick up), and he was one of my primary reasons for moving back to the UAE (just last week).
I literally moved across the world to be closer to him, and now he’s gone. I want you to know who Zvi was, to me and to all who were blessed to cross paths with him.
He did what he felt was right, and others followed. Though he did not grow up in Chabad, his conviction drew him to embrace the Rebbe and Chabad as the guiding forces of his life. He thought nothing of breaking boundaries and confidently following his own path.
I met Zvi in Dubai right after the Abraham Accords in 2020. With Jewish life growing by leaps and bounds here, I had moved to the UAE as part of the Chabad team. Zvi arrived shortly after me, and he was a ball of energy. When Zvi walked into a room, he lit it up—the tempo lifted, and the vibe instantly changed. He had this charming Israeli accent that made everything he said in English hilarious—and he knew it! He would come over and say, “Achi [‘my brother’], that was crazy.” Sometimes it truly was crazy, but often it was just the way he experienced things that made them seem crazy.
From the moment I met him, I wanted to be around his energy—it was contagious! And I wasn’t the only one. Zvi had a way of connecting with people in 0.3 seconds, instantly becoming your best friend and always staying in touch. He was the guy everyone wanted to be around.
There’s a funny story about the time Zvi carpooled from Russia to Ukraine to deliver a van full of wine.
He had heard that in Uman, where tens of thousands gather every year for Rosh Hashanah, there was a shortage of wine. At the time, he was in Russia. So he loaded up a carpool van with cases of wine. Along the way, he kept paying the driver extra to ensure he wouldn’t stop to pick up more passengers, as the van was completely packed with wine. They drove straight through the 20-hour journey to Uman to ensure they made it in time for the holiday, where Zvi distributed the wine to elevate the Rosh Hashanah experience for everyone there.
This wasn’t even remarkable for Zvi—it was just how he lived his life.
It’s no accident that Zvi took responsibility for providing kosher food in the UAE. The kosher grocery store he ran became his way of meeting and interacting with every Jew. If a visitor was arriving late at night, he would stay open for them. No effort was too great, and no detail too small. Every person mattered.
Anyone who attended the Kogans’ Shabbat table will never forget the experience. Zvi taught me how to host and truly appreciate guests. Even with a full table, he ensured that everyone felt comfortable and had their moment to shine. He set the tone for the most energetic and memorable Shabbat meals.
Just last week, I moved back to the UAE—this time with my wife. The first person to greet us was Zvi. The person who offered to help with our suitcases was Zvi. The person who helped us arrange a car was Zvi. The person who guided us through our first kosher run was Zvi. He introduced us to all the right people for all the right things.
On his long drives between Abu Dhabi and Dubai, he binge-listened to lectures by Rabbi YY Jacobson and other presenters on a variety of topics.
But he never took himself too seriously. Zvi had a nickname: “Rabbi Steve.” It fit him perfectly. He was a rabbi, but he was also a relatable guy. He always played down his accomplishments and tried to pass off his kindness and community-building as just a regular “Steve” thing. The truth, however, is that he was a “Rabbi” on the inside and “Steve” on the outside. He never wanted any credit, yet in his own nonchalant way, he installed mezuzahs on people’s doors, visited them in the hospital, and wrapped tefillin with those who came into his store—all with his incredible “Rabbi Steve” smile.
Just a few days after our move to the UAE, Zvi was murdered. He was ripped away from us in the most horrific way, going down like a hero as he fought off the terrorists.
I can picture what he must have been thinking in those terrible moments—how he would somehow come back to us and say in his unique style, “Achi, that was crazy, I almost died!”
Zvi changed my life in countless impactful ways, but the most notable was how I approach life. When life gets stressful, the best response is laughter and positivity. He never lost his cool—even when there was reason to. Zvi gave me the practical tools to navigate life’s roller coasters with laughter and resilience.
As an entrepreneur, success is not always assured. But Zvi would talk about whatever I was working on as though I was on the verge of the biggest success. In his words, “Achi, it’s crazy, You are about to catch a wave that you won’t know how to handle.” He didn’t say this in jest or to keep me positive. He believed it.
He was my first beta tester for both of my startups. He would give me feedback and always had ideas about what I should try next. In fact, our last exchange was him giving me feedback on my app. A mere 20 minutes before his abduction, he wrote to me after I told him we’d incorporate his latest suggestion. His final text contained just one word: sababa, which means “fantastic.”
Zvi, Rabbi Steve, my friend and dear brother: I feel so proud and fortunate to have had you in my life. You were a holy, larger-than-life person whom I will never forget.
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