One Man Lost God and Wrote

Oz Kabala was born to parents who became religiously observant, grew up in an ultra-Orthodox community, and studied in prestigious Jerusalem yeshivas. Between the walls of the study hall he discovered the power of story — and in that same place, lost his God.

The loss of faith was not an intellectual decision. It was an existential collapse — like the sudden death of someone who defined all of reality. The book was born from the void that opened afterward. Not to find answers, but to give the questions a place.

From the start, Oz decided to build the book as a story — not a random collection of poems. A man who lost God, fell into depression and total loss of meaning, and then began to see people and words anew.

One of the leading figures in Hebrew poetry advised him to soften the narrative — to be more mysterious and poetic, less legible. Oz chose not to listen. He wanted poetry to reflect the story, not replace it.

Two months after the book’s release — with no international PR firm, only word of mouth — a crew from ARTE, the prestigious European cultural network, arrived in Israel. Days of filming in the office, at home, on a tennis court, and even in a dance club late into the night.

A book written only in Hebrew appeared on screens in German, French, Italian, English, Spanish, and Polish — reaching tens of millions of viewers.

What made it happen? Perhaps exactly the decision to build the book as a story, not a collection of poems. Story is the most compelling, powerful, and far-reaching force in the world — you can write poetry only in Hebrew and still appear on screens in six languages.

“I think the rabbi had a heart attack when I told him” — a feature by Yogev Carmel for N12 on Oz Kabala, who left the yeshiva at 18 but stayed within his ultra-Orthodox family. Fourteen years married to Sara — seven as a religious man, seven as a secular one — with no compromise, each living their world fully.