from Darkness to Light

Yes, it is Monday and I am posting a new entry.  Today, I have a yom siddurim, a day once a month for soldiers to take care of personal things.  I bought some shoe polish, a white undershirt, sandals, and glasses; all in all, a good (half) day's work, and now I am chillin' in David and Amy's apartment in Tel Aviv.  I hope you take a look at the photo I posted before this entry; it's of me standing at a grave in a cemetery in Magdiel, a town in the center of Israel.  Why am I standing there in full dress uniform?  What was I doing there?  Please, read on...

Yom Hazikaron is Israel's "Remembrance Day."  It is a combination of America's Memorial Day and Veterans Day.  Don't know why, but I always thought Yom Hazikaron was Holocaust Remembrance Day.  Alas, I was wrong.  It's full title, in English, is actually "Israeli Fallen Soldiers and Victims of Terrorism Remembrance Day."  Bear in mind, please, that when I speak/write about these soldiers, their average age is probably twenty or twenty-one.  They were drafted out of high school, went through training, and then during their operational service were killed in a war or some other skirmish.  Most are not grizzled veterans who joined the military as a career choice; instead, they knew from a young age that they would have to serve, experienced trepidation the last few months of high school before entering the military, may have had some excitement and feelings of civil servitude and answering a call during their training and first year, but largely counted down the days until they could reclaim their lives and travel the world after their required three years.

On Sunday, Tzanchanim had another "cultural" day, similar to when we went to Ammunition Hill before Pesach.  This time, we went to the City of David, again in Jerusalem.  We explored the old ruins, ancient streets and underground tunnels of the place King David would make the center of his kingdom. I returned to Tel Aviv that evening after receiving instructions from my Sammal (Sergeant) on what to do the following day.

Monday morning, Amy drove me the half hour to Magdiel, a small town next to the larger city of Hod HaSharon.  After speaking with a half dozen people, we located the cemetery and I arrived, miraculously, on time at 10:00 am.  I was handed some flowers upon entering and given a "Remembrance" sticker to put on my uniform.  I scanned the rows of graves and finally found the soldier I was to honor: Gabriel Aviv, nineteen years of age when he fell during the 1973 Yom Kippur War.  I placed the flowers appropriately on the grave and looked around.  A few dozen soldiers from different units milled about, some unsure of what to do, some making small talk with each other, others preparing for the arrival of the family members.  Gabriel died almost forty years ago.  Surely there was the strong possibility that his family would never show.

And, B"H, I was wrong.  Around twenty to eleven, a few family members trickled in and stood by the grave.  I didn't really know what to say or do, not that anything was expected of me other than my presence.  Before eleven, the entire family had arrived: Gabriel's mother, three brothers, sister, their children and grandchildren.  In all, about twenty individuals gathered to remember the memory of their loved one.

They held a brief prayer service, in which I was invited to participate.  The family is from Yemen.  If you know what that means, then you know what that service and speaking with the family members was like for me.  If not, let me just say that they speak Hebrew differently.  To the untrained ear, it sounds a lot like Arabic; it is believed to be one of earliest and truest ways Hebrew was originally spoken.  Conversation was difficult, but one of the sons was my age and spoke English well enough to talk with me.

Then, promptly at 11:00, the siren sounded.

Jewish holidays begin in the evening.  They run from sundown to sundown.  At 8:00 pm the previous evening, the sun set.  Shortly thereafter, across the country, air raid sirens could be heard as people bowed their heads in silent remembrance for two minutes.  I was with David, Amy and the kids at a ceremony a school put on for the neighborhood when I heard a siren in the distance, then one much closer to our neighborhood.  I honestly thought of bombers flying in the darkening sky above; my mind flashed back to an air raid shelter my family and I visited when touring London years ago.  In the States, we are not used to this sound.  It is striking; I felt fearful and excited, anxious and small.  That night, I thought of the thousands of Israelis who died defending this land, the thousands of Jews who gave their all for their homeland, and I could hear their pleas in the scream of the sirens as they tried to wake people up to the continued threat from all around our tiny state.

Again the siren sounded the next day.  Families bowed their heads, wept, thought about their loved ones; soldiers stood at attention.  At every cemetery in Israel, everyone was doing the same thing.  Soldiers from Tzanchanim, Nachal, Golani, Givati, Kfir, Totchanim, Sheriyon, and other units paid their respects to our former brothers and sisters in arms.  A few here, a dozen there.  Thousands at Har Herzl in Jerusalem, Israel's Arlington National Cemetery.  People stopped their cars and took a few moments to think about dedication, service and sacrifice.

PLEASE click here, here, here, and here to see what happens to life in Israel when the siren sounds.

Following the few minutes, a short memorial service was held, with loudspeakers broadcasting the words of bereaved family members across the quiet cemetery.  Afterwards, the Aviv family asked if I wanted to join them for lunch.  Seriously.  They asked me and, with the help of Amy's translations, I gladly accepted their offer.  It was a true testament to Israeli culture.  They are always helping each other and are willing to do anything for soldiers; even though everyone has to serve, they are still very appreciative of each soldier's service.

I said goodbye to Amy, went with the family to their home in Hod HaSharon, and was treated to incredibly awesome pitah, soup, chicken and one of the most interesting experiences of my time in Israel.  I saw pictures of Gabriel, learned from his mother (who spoke a surprisingly good amount of English) what he was like, how high her sons rose in the ranks of the IDF, and what the names are of her newest great-grandchildren.

After a couple hours, the younger generation drove me back to Tel Aviv.  It was an incredibly rewarding experience.  One of them even invited me to a barbecue the next day for Yom Ha'atzmaut.  I politely declined.  I will certainly never forget their kindness, hospitality, and exemplary example of Israeli culture.

Then an incredible thing happened in this country.  As the sun set and darkness descended, the mood of sadness and quiet thanks transformed into jubilation and expressive gratitude.  At the grave of Theodore Herzl, a ceremony was held to escort out Yom Hazikaron and usher in Yom Ha'atzmaut.  From his pioneering spirit and bold vision for the Jewish people in the nineteenth century, to Israel's sixty-third birthday today, the nation honored a dozen different individuals on their exemplary contribution to this country over the past year.  In line with the Twelve Tribes of Israel, an incredible cross-section of Israeli society was represented.  As the Arab world is devolving into chaos and fire around this tiny nation, with people fighting for rights, women fighting for respect, and minorities struggling to not become targets, Israel displayed its plurality and honored men and women, soldiers and civilians, Jews and Arabs, immigrants and natives.

David Ben-Gurion declared Israel's independence on May 15, 1948.  But we celebrated Yom Ha'atzmaut on May 10 because it's the Jewish calendar's date of independence.  That evening was a crazy street party in the Florentine district in Tel Aviv.  It reminded me of Halloween at the University of Madison or the Taste of Chicago, but with lots more to drink, a younger crowd and music....and Israelis.  I had a blast.  And the next day was full of barbecues and picnics.  I went to the beach with Mike, one of my best friends from Mikveh Alon who is now serving in Nachal.  Early May and the beaches in Israel have already been teeming with people for weeks.

In light of events in the Arab world, particularly in Syria and among the Palestinians as of late, please enjoy this: Israel Innovation.  A quick excerpt from Warren Buffet, who's interviewed in this short clip: "If you go to the Middle East looking for oil, you don't need to stop in Israel.  But if you go looking for brains, for energy, for integrity, it's the only stop you need to make in the Middle East."

I'm returning tomorrow to base.  I have a big day on Thursday...