Having never been in Israel for Yom HaZikaron and Yom HaAtzmaut before, I decided to make an effort to get to as many public celebrations/memorial services as possible. That said, I've decided that it is also quite worthwhile to spend some time at home, reflecting, and watching the remembrance programming on TV - which is what I am doing right now, as I write this post.
On this Yom HaZikaron, we are remembering 22,437 people who have died for this country. Most of them were killed while defending this country, but 1,200+ of those were victims of terror.
Before Yom HaZikaron even started last night, there were signs in the atmosphere that it was coming. Walking to school yesterday morning, I saw fighter planes over head, practicing for the upcoming ceremonies. I had a hard time getting my camera out in time to get a picture of the planes - but I got one of the trail they left behind! They did the coolest thing, right above my head. All four planes together made a loop, and then they divided up and went in different directions - making it look like a firework in the sky. Impressive!
There was also sad music, flute playing, and even shofar blowing coming from the speakers outside. So as I went through my day, every now and then, I'd get an audio reminder about what day it was. Walking home, I walked by practice for a תקס (a ceremony) that was happening right by my house.
Last night I headed into Tel Aviv to join Elana, Doron, and their friend David, at a local high school's ceremony. Then we joined thousands and thousands of other people for singing in Kikar Rabin.
The high school's ceremony was really quite moving. The community was remembering the forty-four students that died serving Israel. As each name was read, a pair of students carried a wreath across the stage in their honor. Occasionally, instead of the students, it was parents, children, or siblings of the fallen soldier carried the wreath instead - that was especially hard to see. As the wreath was being carried across the stage, someone read more details about each soldier - what he liked, how many kids he had, how old he was when he died, etc. It was hard to hear but very important to be able to put details to each person's name.
It was dark out, and picture taking felt disruptive - so I didn't get too many shots. This one here was supposed to be able to show you the size of the crowd and the number of people wearing white shirts. Everyone is facing the stage, which was sort of two-leveled. The main stage was on the ground, but some of the students performing were on the balcony above it (where the flags and lights are).
From there we went to Kikar Rabin for an emotional experience with music. I actually only knew one of the songs played - and it was the one that was playing when we walked in. Because the words were being projected on a big screen, I was able to understand some of the lyrics. I was really touched by one called אחכה לך (I will wait for you). It made me cry. Ok, who am I kidding? They all made me cry!
The tekes ended (as all of them do) with Hatikvah, Israel's national anthem. It was unbelievable to be part of a crowd of thousands, all singing these words: עוד לא אבדה תקותנו, התקוה בת שנות אלפים, להיות עם חפשי בארצנו, ארץ ציון וירושלים "Then our hope - the two-thousand-year-old hope - will not be lost: To be a free people in our land, The land of Zion and Jerusalem".
This morning I got up early to go to the main memorial service in Kikar Safra.
It took place right outside the Iriya, where you may remember, I paid my arnona. I took this picture because I wanted to show you the group of soldiers in green, the group of high schoolers in white, and the beautiful flags adorning the outside of the Iriya. It was a short ceremony that included the kaddish, el maleh rachamim, a few songs, and it ended with Hatikvah. I was able to understand a lot of what was spoken, but not everything. A poem was read about all the things that these soldiers lost - the songs they will never hear, the movies they will never see, the love they will never experience, etc.
From there, I (and everyone else in the city) got on a bus to Har Herzl, the national military cemetery. A couple of blocks before reaching Har Herzl, traffic was stopped - so all the buses just opened their doors, people poured out, and started walking towards the cemetery.
Again, note the white shirts, and all the buses lines up on the left side of the photo. I made it to the very busy intersection right outside of the entrance to Har Herzl, just as the siren began to sound.
The chaotic intersection that was nearly impossible to cross just moments before, stood absolutely still for two minutes at 11am. I thought that this siren, twice as long as the other ones that I have written about, might have made less of an impact on me because it is the third one in a week. But I was wrong.
Here is a picture that I took from ynetnews.com's website:
Upon entering Har Herzl, I was handed four things: flowers to put on a grave, a sticker that said "זכור" ("remember"), a card with the Kaddish written on it, and a bottle of water. Here are the flowers that I carried around, while I tried to pick a grave to place them on:
Har Herzl was beyond packed. I wasn't even sure if there was a real ceremony, because I couldn't see where it was taking place. But it was being broadcast throughout the ceremony on speakers. So I just picked a section and joined the families there. Each grave was surrounded by family members visiting. I was particularly struck that truly, each grave had someone to visit - even if the deceased was killed in the War of Independence in 1948. Children were visiting grandparents that they had never met, siblings were visiting their brothers that they last saw 30 or 40 years ago, and parents were visiting children they never expected to bury.
I know its hard to tell from the photo, but if you notice how people are facing different directions that is because they are standing around graves.
In the past, I've noticed how uniform the graves look. They are all in white Jerusalem stone, with greenery on top of them. Today, each one looked different, as family members and loved ones brought flowers to place on them. If a cemetery can look beautiful, today Har Herzl looked like Heaven.
I was moved by this picture of all the flowers and the group of soldiers surrounding a grave.
In the corner of each grave is an Israeli flag. And on Yom HaZikaron, a black ribbon is tied around it. And with that symbolism, I will end this post. Here are two other friends' reflections: Dan and Sara Beth for you to read, if you are interested.
ps. I've spent the past few hours, intermittently writing this post and watching the Memorial day scenes on TV. Depending on the program, the scenes are different. Some stations are playing sad songs. Some are showing news pictures of ceremonies around the country. And some are showing stories of people's lives who died. Those, to me, are the saddest. I watched the photographs and home movies on TV and they look like any family (my family). Then I remember that they are being shown because someone in those pictures died.
Recent Comments