Memorials and Independences: May Our Destinies Be Bound Together

I wrote this post a few days ago, so please forgive its late posting.

The last two days here have been full of tekes (ceremony) and memory. Celebrating Yom Hazikaron and Yom Haatzmaut on top of each other here means that all the emotions are bound up with one another, conflating issues, and creating an intensity of moment that is hard to handle.

Sunday night I headed to TA with my roommate and her sister. When the 8pm siren went off we were parking the car at IM's house. Both she and her sister climbed out of the car and SNAPPED to military attention stance. It was amazing to watch, considering I had never seen either of them do anything to remind me that they both served in the IDF. Of course they did, but this was a visceral reminder.

Monday morning I met up with IM to attend the memorial tekes at her elementary school. They read the list of names of people who have "fallen in service to the country". It seemed to last forever. After every three names I kept thinking, "this must be the last one." And then it continued on. Unbelievable. There was a lot of singing, but no clapping. There was an eeriness to the regularity with which this same ceremony has replayed itself in that very courtyard.

I felt a little odd, straddling the sense of both being an outsider, sort of a spy, and yet partially connected to what was going on. I blended into the crowd in the sense that I was wearing a white T shirt and jeans just like everyone else in the courtyard and knew all the words to hatikva. But I knew that there was something one step removed about my participation.

Also interestingly the list of the fallen includes victims of terror attacks, people who fell during military service even when they were off duty such as in car accidents, and people who committed suicide during their service. While I can understand the additions of the suicide and remembering the victims of terror, is it honest to include people who died in car accidents? Considering how ubiquitous car accidents unfortunately are in this country, does this addition make any sense? Would you also include people who died of disease during their service? Should the country also include people who died shortly after their service ended? Should the list just include everyone who dies between the age of 18 and 20? On the one hand, you might say, "Add everybody, what's the harm?" But I do think there is something detrimental to the national psyche with that on a few levels. First, the large number that is reported is politically important and used here in Israel. Israelis talk about this gigantic percentage of the potential population "lost" at this time. Second, it elevates the death of some over the death of others. What if you had a child that died shortly after their service and they weren't included in this venerated list? Wouldn't you feel deprived of the national attention given to the selected people over your child? On one level, this whole line of thinking is sickening. One shouldn't consider these issues when mourning the loss of a family member, but this is reality here in Israel.

Also notably, the list includes people who died as victims of terror attacks abroad, such as Israelis who died in Sept 11. This was shocking to me and yet completely obvious to IM. For her, dying in Israel or dying in the Twin Towers is just a matter of geographical distance. The real issues are the same. For me, they are not. I don't conflate terror everywhere. But this speaks to an Israeli identification with the US, that isn't *always* shared by Americans. Israelis consider their destiny completely, utterly and absolutely bound up with that of the US. And understandably so. The US is its champion in virtually every forum at almost every point in its history. The oppposite perspective is not necessarily true. I don't think that every American believes that the future of the US is woven tightly with the progress of Israel. Yes, some Jews and other Americans believe that, but there is a self confidence and self sufficiency aspect to Americanness that does not extend its destiny to this small country in the Middle East.

At what point, is it going to be too much? Let's stop thinking about Israel lasting for another 2o years and start thinking long term. What about 100 years from now when people still die in military service from car accidents and suicide, but God willing, they aren't dying regularly in terror attacks or in combat? Will we still recite and add to this important list? And when will it become truly too long to name at every ceremony at every school, community center, agency, etc in the country? What will the nation do then?

......

By the evening I was celebrating Israeli independence at a massive party, singalong in Kikar Rabin. I keep trying to think of an equivalent activity in the US. It would be like having a singalong in Pioneer Courthouse Square where we all sing "It's a Grand Old Flag." Ha! It would never happen in the US! I don't even know the words to "It's a Grand Old Flag". And I'm one of the patriotic ones.

The evening lasted until about 3am with a block party in the Florentine neighborhood of TA. Notably (sorry mom) there was ZERO SECURITY at this party. I asked my roommate why she wasn't nervous and she responded, "Don't worry, they have hermetically sealed the territories for these two days." You've got to be kidding me. That is no assurance of safety. But it was good enough for her, and thank god, good enough so that the party went on without incident.

During the day of Yom Haatzmaut, I went to a BBQ (like every single other Israeli in the country) at a moshav with friends of friends of friends. Lovely, relaxing, fun.

In the days since the holidays, I had challenging classes and went to the Golan Heights for a Dorot day that centered around the politics and culture of the area and food, and am now preparing dinner for shabbat. Be well. Shabbat shalom ya'll.