יום הזיכרון ויום העצמאות! Days of Rememberance and Independence

This is spring in Israel: Passover, Yom HaShoah a week later, then Memorial and Independence days. These last two are right in a row; I found it to be kind of intense and quite an emotional roller coaster. Here are some brief reflections from Monday and Tuesday (pic is the front of my apt building all decked out for Independence Day):

Yom HaZikaron (Memorial Day)
Sunday night, I went with a group of Pardes students to visit Ein Prat, an Israeli (I mean with Israeli students) post-college institution somewhat similar to Pardes. We began the evening with a class, on "The Torah of Babylonia vs the Torah of Israel". My hevruta (study partner) was Israeli, and I'm proud to say we hevruted (ok, so that's not really a verb) almost entirely in Hebrew. After dinner, we all gathered to stand for a memorial siren marking the start of Yom HaZikaron, and then had a small ceremony in honor of Israeli soldiers and civilians who have lost their lives. Part of the ceremony involved reading a list of names, all of whom were friends or family of people present, and then one of the Ein Prat students told a personal story of a friend from his unit he had lost. In a country where army service is mandatory, nearly everyone has lost someone.

Monday morning at 11am, Pardes gathered in the Beit Midrash for the sounding of the second siren of the day. This time, I was standing next to a window, and I watched cars, taxis, pedestrians--religious and secular and even a haredi-looking young man--all stop. I watched them stand, heads bowed, and I felt a tremendous sense of disconnect. Every single one of them has lost a father, husband, sister, friend, daughter, brother. It felt like a national, communal experience which I did not share. Then the siren stopped, and people instantaneously resumed their daily lives, got into their cars, began honking their horns, the frozen man with his groceries sprung into movement, bag swinging in hand.

We then had a panel of חיילים בודדים, or lone soldiers; in this case three Americans who had moved to Israel and served in the army, leaving their families at home. One of them made a point which particularly struck me; he said: "I imagine that many of you this year are searching. Figuring out who you are Jewishly, maybe considering making aliyah, starting families, searching for someone to start a family with. Whatever goals you are fulfilling this year, it is possible because of the soldiers who put your goals ahead of their own, who risked their lives for Israel." Obvious though it might be, it was an important reminder that however often I sometimes disagree with the actions of the Israeli army...well, I, Pardes, and the State of Israel wouldn't be here without it.

After the panel, I went to a class in which the dean's son, Shai, talked about moral issues in the army. He stressed that it is impossible to describe or prepare for what it is like to have to make split-second decisions under fire. He also gave examples of several ethical questions he personally faced serving in the war in Gaza last year; stories of seeing terrorists who he'd just watched fire a rocket into Sderot escape in an ambulance (he didn't fire at an ambulance), of seeing a Hamas gunman--while firing at him--pick up a schoolkid with a backpack to use as a shield as he ran through the range of Shai's soldiers (they didn't shoot, of course). Shai spoke incredibly eloquently, and reminded me of the complexity and the human element of the things we talk and debate about so theoretically.

That afternoon, we went on a tour of Har Herzl, the military cemetery. We could see the remains--flower bouquets, yardzeit candles--of the crowds who had been there at 11am for the siren, when every grave had a soldier stationed beside it and the cemetery was filled with families. We began with memorials of fighters who had lost their lives during the war of Independence and in the early years of Israel. It was very moving, especially only a week after Yom HaShoah, to look at the birthplaces on the stones and realize that many of these 1948 fighters were probably survivors of the Holocaust. From there, we moved through the cemetery, stopping at the grave of the Pardes secretary's brother, and ending with the newest part of the cemetery. This was the busiest part of the cemetery, and for me the most intense, with families and friends gathered in groups, crying, talking, remembering, singing. Here, the graves were only a few years old, and the men and women buried here--were they still alive--would have been more or less my age.

Yom HaAtzmaut (Independence Day)--62 years!

After Har Herzl, we had about 2 hours to mentally prepare for Yom HaAtzmaut. Like I said, and emotional roller coaster. The day (evening, since Jewish days begin at sundown) began with ceremonies happening in basically every neighborhood, followed by fireworks, parties, concerts...

All of downtown basically turned into one giant party. I went to Ben Yehuda St, the outdoor pedestrian mall, which was packed, with a DJ on Hillel St. People with giant blue and white blow up hammers, spraying each other with silly string, cotton candy, Israeli flags. After a pause to watch the fireworks, I and friends headed to the party in the Machane Yehuda shuk (produce market), which was even more packed, with a DJ and a bar set up in the middle of the shuk!

Then to Kikar Safra, where there was Israeli dancing. On our way, a giant block of yeshiva boys with black pants and white shirts and linked arms came dancing down the center of Yaffo street. It sounded like they were singing "Kfar Etzion Coev" (Kfar Etzion is in Pain)--earlier that day at Har Herzl, I had learned that Kfar Etzion, now part of the Gush Etzion settlement bloc, had actually been a Jewish settlement pre-1948. It was destroyed a day before Israeli Independence, and is apparently part of why they picked the day they did for Yom HaZikaron.

Kikar Safra was filled with both dancers and observers. I didn't know any of the dances, but it was fun to watch 17-year olds, 40-year olds, 80 year olds, men and women, all start dancing together as each song started. Apparently the dancing went until 3:30am. More yeshiva bachers on Yaffo St on our way out--happier songs this time. On our way home that night, we passed Gan HaPaamon (Liberty Bell Park), which was full of tents and people camping out for the night.

Tuesday was much more low key, but the entire city smelled like barbecue.