Yom HaZikoron and Yom Haatzmaut

In creating this entry, I had to pause about whether to write these two days into one entry or separate them out as the separately powerful days that they were for Israel. In the end, though, there is no way to separate these inextricably linked days. For those who are unaware, Zikoron in hebrew means memory and Atzmaut means Independence and Yom means day. So, Yom HaZikoron is Memorial Day and Yom Haatzmaut is the Independence Day, and they are celebrated in consecutive days, which were this past Tuesday and Wednesday. Like all Jewish holidays, the holiday began at sunset the night before the actual day. Most people, including myself, find it to be a difficult concept to grasp that you hold memorial services for fallen soldiers in the day before you party to celebrate the birthday of your country. Until you have experienced it, you cannot imagine how powerful of an experience it is to celebrate in this way. (I apologize for the lack of pictures but somehow nothing captured the experiences I had during these days.)

On Tuesday my group was part of a memorial for fallen soldiers put on my Masa, the non-profit organization that my program is connected with here in Israel. It was a service that was based on the idea of six degrees of separation, in which every person in the world is separated from every other person by no more than six degrees. In Israel, as such a small country, there seem to be even less separation and when a terrorist attack happens or soldiers are lost, it would amaze you to know how many people you know are connected to someone that was lost. It was specifically about people who had made aliyah to Israel that were about my age and either joined the army or was killed in a terrorist attack. There was not a dry eye in the crowd of this outdoor program that was integrated with music written in the memory of those who were killed. And to be reminded how, in such a small country, the distance between someone being killed and those that remain is usually none at all-everyone always knows someone involved in the tragic events that unfold here all too often. Furthermore, it began with the erie sound of the sirens sounding to begin the Memorial Day.

If I did not tell you all in the last entry, on Yom HaShoa and Yom HaZikoron, Israel sounds sirens, which are what an American would think of as the old school sirens from war movies when a bombing is going to happen. It is an erie sound, especially when the entire country stops wherever they are to hear it. On Yom HaShoa it is sounded once during the day but on Yom HaZikoron it is sounded twice: once to begin the day of remembrance at sunset and once during the day on Yom HaZikoron. A friend of mine, whose father is Israeli and has family here, was on the way to a memorial service for his cousin who was killed in the army when the second siren was sounded during the day of the Memorial Day. He was driving on the highway and told me that all of the cars stopped, including the train that was running on the tracks adjacent to the highway.

I chose to attend at a memorial service at the cemetery next to the Kfar, which is one of the largest in the country, rather than the service the Kfar was putting on. Walking into the cemetary was like walking into a concert, with free water and flowers being given out to those that entered and a sticker to put on in memory of those fallen. It was filled with people surrounding every grave and I had to remind myself that this was because every person there had lost someone who was buried in this cemetery as a result of those that defend the land. We stood next to the grave of the brother in law of the director of my program. The sounding of the sirens began this service and I listened to the Mourner's Kaddish, a memorial service (Yiskor), and a speak by a military officer (which I was proud to at least partly understand). It was very moving to be surrounded by so many people who had lost someone in defense of this country.

After a heavy day of Memorial services, sirens, and thoughts and prayers for those who made even my ability to come to this Jewish state safely, sunset rings in Yom Haatzmaut- "Independance Day". One would think that this must be impossible to celebrate after such a solemn day, but somehow it feels right to celebrate the country for which so many have died.

The night of Yom Haatzmaut my group went to be part of what we thought was a rooftop party overlooking Tel Aviv at a television news station. However, we were the studio audience who could not even be seen on TV, and while it was on the roof it was hardly overlooking Tel Aviv. Furthermore, we were not allowed to talk or make noise during the taping. Nonetheless, it was neat to watch them broadcast the news (even if it was in Hebrew) as well as watch all of the events unfolding throughout Israel on a big screen. What was not fun, though, was in the elevator on the way down when 12 of us got stuck in an 8 person elevator. I am telling you, though, that we had a moment in there! Judith finally says to everyone to be quiet, prayer is the only thing that can help us now- and she was serious. After 15 minutes of yelling, banging and ringing the bells, we all went silent for a long moment and the doors opened for us!

After this we went to a huge street party in Tel Aviv on a street called Florentine and the spirit in the crowd was unwaveringly filled with pride and hope for the state of Israel. We partied and danced until six in the morning when we finally went home with the sun rising as we walked into the Kfar. The next day I attended a barbeque put on by the Greater Hartford Jewish Federation, in which I was shocked to see the number of people living in Israel who either moved from the Hartford area to Israel or have roots of their family back in Hartford. It was a wonderful experience and I gladly spoke to the group about my experiences in Israel as part of a Masa program.

That evening my entire group barbequed, the usual activity on Yom Haatzmaut, and just spent time talking about our time in Israel. It was the first time that my group did something all together without the Kfar or the director of my program or anything and it was great. We talked about how special it was to spend the 60th birthday of Israel here after having been living here for at least 3 and a half months (some of the people on the program were here before the program began). It was a special and unique experience to feel already immersed in the life here, and then to celebrate the 60th year of independence within that understanding and immersion. It is something I never expected to be so moving, because I would have felt huge pride and excitement for the event if I had been in the US or if I had visited Israel during it. But I could never have expected the feeling I got from seeing the pride in the people on Florentine, the youth of Israel who will be carrying on the nation in the future. It gave me hope and further love for this land and its people, and made me feel, again, like I am no longer a tourist here.