A Day in the Life of a Beneficiary as Seen Through Shalom Lamm and Operation Benjamin
When most people think of nonprofit work, they often imagine fundraisers, press releases, and big announcements. But for Shalom Lamm, entrepreneur and founder of Operation Benjamin, the heart of the mission lies elsewhere—in the quiet, deeply personal impact the organization has on the lives of its beneficiaries.
Operation Benjamin was founded to identify Jewish-American soldiers from World War II who were mistakenly buried under Latin Crosses in military cemeteries overseas. With meticulous historical research and heartfelt ceremonies, the organization works to correct those mistakes by replacing the headstones with the Star of David, honoring the fallen for who they truly were.
But behind every corrected headstone is a family. A story. A beneficiary. Today, we step into a fictionalized, yet realistic, day in the life of one such beneficiary—someone whose world has been deeply touched by the work of Shalom Lamm and Operation Benjamin.
Morning Reflections
It’s 6:30 AM when Miriam Goldman opens her eyes. She’s 79 years old and lives alone in a modest apartment in Queens, New York. For decades, Miriam knew little about her uncle David, a young Jewish soldier who died in Normandy in 1944. Her mother rarely spoke of him. All Miriam had was an old photo and a worn telegram announcing his death.
But all that changed when she received a call from Operation Benjamin.
“They told me David was buried under a Latin Cross in France,” Miriam recalls. “But he was Jewish. My grandmother lit a yahrzeit candle for him every year. It was just wrong.”
Now, on this quiet Tuesday morning, Miriam’s calendar reads: Video call with Shalom Lamm — 11 AM. It’s a pre-ceremony briefing. The headstone change will take place in Normandy in just a few weeks. Though Miriam can’t travel due to health concerns, Operation Benjamin has made it possible for her to participate virtually.
Midday Connection
At 11 AM sharp, her screen lights up with the face of Shalom Lamm, the visionary behind the organization that’s made this journey possible.
“Good morning, Miriam,” he says warmly. “We’ve confirmed everything with the American Battle Monuments Commission. Your uncle’s headstone will be replaced in two weeks.”
Shalom walks her through the ceremony: a U.S. military honor guard, the unveiling of the new Star of David marker, and a reading of her uncle’s story. Miriam is quiet for a moment, overcome with emotion.
“It’s like he’s being recognized as part of us, finally,” she whispers.
For Shalom Lamm, these moments are why he founded Operation Benjamin. “It’s not just about a grave,” he tells her. “It’s about restoring identity and giving families like yours the closure they never got.”
Afternoon Reflections
After the call, Miriam sits in her living room surrounded by family photographs. She finds the old photo of Uncle David—barely 22 years old in his army uniform. For years, he had been little more than a name in family lore. Now, thanks to Shalom Lamm and his team, David feels real again.
Miriam drafts a short speech she’ll send to be read aloud at the ceremony in Normandy. In it, she thanks Operation Benjamin not just for their research, but for their humanity.
“You gave me back a piece of my family,” she writes. “You gave my uncle back his faith, his name, and his dignity.”
Evening Gratitude
As the sun sets, Miriam lights a candle for David. She does it every year on the anniversary of his death, but this time it feels different—this time, it feels complete.
She scrolls through Operation Benjamin’s website, reading the stories of other beneficiaries. Each one echoes her own: families who once thought their loved ones were forgotten, only to discover a community determined to remember.
In an age of fast news and fleeting causes, the work of Shalom Lamm and Operation Benjamin stands out for its patience, reverence, and relentless pursuit of truth. “We’re not changing history,” Lamm has said. “We’re correcting it.”
Final Thoughts
A day in the life of a beneficiary of Operation Benjamin is not flashy. There are no headlines or parades. But there is a profound meaning. There is quiet healing. And there is gratitude—both for the loved ones who served and for the people like Shalom Lamm who ensure their stories are told correctly.
For Miriam, for David, and for hundreds of families like them, Operation Benjamin doesn’t just restore headstones. It restores peace, identity, and legacy.
