Milestones (Article# 83) 5/15/2008

Last week was one of many milestones here, both nationally and personally. The national holidays reminded us, once again, just how young a country Israel is and how differently the people of Israel show their pride, concern, honor, and (in some cases) disrespect for the country in which we now live.

We celebrated 60 years of Israel’s existence last week. Immediately following Purim, the beginning preparations for the celebration could already be seen in the approach to Yerushalayim with the construction of a large “60–Israel” sign on the major Jerusalem–Tel Aviv highway. Flags went up all over the roads, as the highway crews spent countless hours adorning the light poles with our national flag.

Once Pesach concluded, the signs really came out. Office buildings and yeshivot unfurled huge flags that draped over the sides of their buildings. Different celebrations were announced and flags began to sprout from car windows throughout the country. Schools, shuls, and other groups sent out notices for their specific events and the excitement began to build. Early in the week, Bank Hapoalim distributed a free flag with the morning newspaper and there were suddenly flags waving all over the country.

Of course, hand in hand with Yom HaAtzma’ut is Yom HaZikaron, the Israeli Memorial Day. In an incredibly fitting touch, each year Israel refuses to celebrate its existence until it pays high honors to the people who made the ultimate sacrifice so that first we could exist, and then we could continue to exist. The air raid sirens go off twice and the nation pauses in reflection not once but twice, as each person is reminded to think of these heroes.

It was an opportunity to really talk with our kids and highlight how miraculous our existence is here. Even the younger ones can definitely relate to the chayalim that they see every day and understand how 22,437 of them have perished since 1948. It was sad to note that almost everyone knows someone who had a friend or relative who was killed in defense of Israel.

At night, after the first siren and minute of silence, there was a special memorial ceremony at the Kotel, which was televised, along with various speeches. The audience was comprised totally of the families of the fallen, and as the speakers spoke to them, the rest of us were just witnessing the tributes. Interestingly, the Israeli television channels (even the satellite channels) broadcast either nothing or special programming appropriate to the day. Entertainment was a no-no.

Yom HaZikaron is taken very seriously here. All restaurants, supermarkets, and stores close early out of respect (similar to Yom HaShoah). People consciously take steps to increase their thoughts and (in some cases) tefillah in memory of the dead.

Imagine if the U.S. acted in the same manner. I don’t just mean the waving/hanging of the flag. I mean taking time to actually reflect on the losses of generations of youth and future generations in defense of the country and in safekeeping our right to exist and our way of life. Picture this—moving Memorial Day to July 3 and making it a real day of remembrance. Not just parades and barbecues, but spending time actually reflecting on the service and dedication of those in the armed forces and the sacrifices they often make. Imagine how much more patriotic Americans would be.

Unfortunately, not everyone here in Israel feels the same way. We expect the Arabs to feel somewhat less than patriotic, but the vitriol that comes from some elements in the chareidi community is in some ways worse. I find it interesting that the chareidim are insistent that we accept their right to hang their “tzeniut dress only” signs from the walls of their houses yet they object to and interfere with our hanging the flag of our nation.

One of our neighbors has been very involved with setting up lines of dialogue between our neighbors. He got a call last week from a member of the vehement group of chareidim. The caller was registering his concern over the proliferation of flags on the balconies and windows facing the chareidi side of the street (and you would be 1,000 percent correct in assuming I had a lot to do with encouraging my neighbors to hang these flags—there are two of them hanging from the windows of our house as well) and wanted to have arrangements made for the removal of the flags.

The response? “Not only am I doing nothing about it, I am offended that you would even think to make such a call!” Of course, within a day the predictable response was the hanging of even more of the tzeniut patrol’s signs across the way. *Sigh*

Perhaps they have forgotten what it is like to be a Jew in a land where you are not allowed to practice freely. Perhaps they take the protection offered to them by our servicemen and women for granted, forgetting that it is this blanket of protection that allows them the freedom to live here and to harass those they feel do not adhere to their interpretations of what our obligations are. I cannot figure out what these people are actually doing in Israel. Perhaps they would be better off in another country, where they can deride the existence of the state from afar rather than use it as the base for their activities.

Mordechai came home from school telling us about one of his teachers, who is also the assistant principal of his campus, leading an outdoor assembly and sharing stories with the first and second grades about a very close friend of his who he grew up with and how he was killed in action. Similar programs went on throughout the country.

By the time the day was over, I know that internally I felt much more positive about the country as a whole and its people. This is probably one of the reasons it is linked with Yom HaAtzma’ut, because I certainly felt more appreciation that Israel is here for 60 years than I thought I would and that feeling was definitely enhanced by Yom HaZikaron.

Yom HaAtzma’ut is a big party. Having been here only once before on Yom HaAtzma’ut (our pilot trip’s final day was Yom HaAtzma’ut 2006—see the archives), we really did not know what to expect. There were celebrations everywhere, and each person in our family did something different from the others.

I went to Efrat to be with the yeshiva at the Efrat communal celebration culminating in a fireworks show, followed by a special Maariv and a barbecue at the Rosh Yeshiva’s house. Goldie stayed at home with Mordechai and watched fireworks from our window. Chaim went to Yerushalayim to enjoy the celebrations there with a bunch of his friends. Chaya went to a special memorial service and then had a big party with many of her classmates. Aliza went to a different memorial service and then went to a sleepover party with several friends. And Batya went to a memorial service, went to watch the movie Exodus at a friend’s house, and then watched fireworks from our house with Goldie.

The next morning I rushed off to yeshiva. I loaded the car with students and at 6:30 in the morning we headed off to deliver rugelach, chocolate milk, and goodie bags to soldiers at various checkpoints and an army base. What a well-received gesture. There is nothing quite like seeing the interaction of our students with chayalim and chayalot only a couple of years older than them (if that much). It just feels great to say thanks.

After a special davening at yeshiva I quickly rushed home to get the kids together (minus Chaim, whose yeshiva had its own event that day—a barbecue to which they invited their entire moshav to come and enjoy) and start our own celebratory day.

Having no experience in what is appropriate, we made things up and arranged to meet my brother and his family at a local pool for an afternoon of swimming. There was almost no one there and it was quite nice to have a quiet afternoon, when we were expecting the place to be totally crowded. After the swim, we drove into a local national park, found ourselves a couple of picnic tables, and proceeded to light up my newly bought mini-grill and enjoy a barbecue together.

Since we got a late start to the day, most of the people who had gone to this park were either finishing up or had departed, and within an hour we had the entire area to ourselves, until a shul group from the North pulled in and set up their barbecue next to us. You know you are in Israel when you are in the middle of a national park, a bus pulls up and disgorges its passengers, who immediately form a Minchah minyan, and you join them for davening. We all enjoyed the day, and by the time we got home we were exhausted and ready for a good night’s sleep.

Friday was a day of personal milestones as well, marking the first anniversary of Goldie’s surgery in the U.S. It has been a time of upheaval for us, and although I generally do not mention it much here in this space, it has been a trying time for us as well. Hopefully she will continue her recovery.

This column’s focus is supposed to be on aliyah and the experiences of our family as we moved from Woodmere in the Five Towns to Bet Shemesh. Clearly, our tale is not the typical one. Yet, I must pause to point out that every one of our peers has had their own personal issues that were, to them at least, extremely critical and difficult. So I wanted to take this minute to thank all of you who have been so supportive of our family this past year and to look forward to sharing many more successes than failures in the future.

On another personal note, Goldie and I want to wish a special mazal tov to our former neighbors Rabbi Mordechai and Sora Kamenetzky on the engagement of their daughter Bashy.