From Yom Hashoah to Yom Hazikaron to Yom Haatzmaut, the Israeli spirit lingered in the air. Each holiday celebrates something unique, but all of them are very much intertwined. The basic idea was to remember the fallen--in the Holocaust, in Israel’s wars, and from terrorism--and for the memory of their lives to remind us of the cost that Israel has endured in order to exist. Through the week, I looked back at the year behind me and how my perceptions about this state has changed.
I came here with all sorts of notions, uncertainties, and opinions, but as I became more educated and had the opportunity to see this place with my own eyes, I found it much harder to take a stance on the conflict. I looked around me saw extremism, war, hatred, and terrible memories on the faces of people I saw.
Trauma has truly become a part of Israeli culture. Every person you talk to has a story of a loved one who has fallen in battle, a friend who has been taken by terrorism, or about a community learning to cope with constant rocket fire. Hearing such things evokes a lot of emotions. However, ef we are unable to control those emotions, the prosperity of this country is in danger. We must have hope. Hope lead to the creation of this country, to the survival of the Jewish people, and hopefully one day will lead to peace. In order for this country to truly flourish--to actualize to its full potential and solve its problems--it must face its dark history and learn to grow from it.
During Yom Hazikaron--Memorial Day, my program gave me the opportunity to go visit a military cemetery. While there, they gave us rags and memorial candles, in order that we find an unattended grave, and take care of it (a great deed in Judaism). Upon entering the cemetary, we found thousands of people with smiles on their faces. It looked more like the scene of an art fair than a memorial service. I walked through isles of graves, but I couldn’t find a single one that hadn’t been attended to. Every grave had a soldier and a family in front of it, with flowers and stones all over it, and a memorial candle or two on the side. So I walked around as a spectator, a visitor, just as I have been for 8 months now.
Eventually, as expected, I heard a siren--indicating the moment of silence. Suddenly, the crowd that seemed so uplifted turned somber, as the thousands of people around me looked down and closed their eyes. Soldiers put up their salute. Everyone was quiet for two minutes. It was truly moving.
The same thing happened during Yom Hashoah.
I was walking through the street on the way to Natal, and the siren went off. The bustling traffic came to a dead halt as everyone got out of their cars at the biggest intersection near me, and stood in silence to remember the fallen. I saw no fear in anyone's face. I saw hope. I felt hope. The Jewish people have come so far, from exile after exile, to pogrom, to holocaust, to war after war, and now, in 2012, we are as strong as ever. We have a country, and we can very much be Jewish without being religious.
He said, “Yeah. On several occasions I have just barely missed a rocket attack. If I had been a few meters away, there's a chance that I wouldn't be here today talking to you. It is very difficult living there. With the raids overhead nearly every day, we live in constant fear. It is difficult to live a normal life.”
I told him how I volunteer for Natal, an NGO that provides treatment for victims of PTSD.
He told me, “That’s great. But come live in Sderot, and you won’t have to be a volunteer for any organization. Just living here you become one. We help each other. If we didn’t have our neighbors, we would be in shambles. I am a religious man, you can see by the kippa on my head. I feel safe, because I have hope. I trust that there is someone looking out for me, for my friends, and for my family.”
At that point we split. I saw my best friend enacted into a military which is defending those residents in Sderot. With all the smiling faces, the parents taking pictures, and soldiers making an oath, I felt something special. There truly is someone watching over them. There is the army. There is Natal. There is us--the Jews outside Israel, the common Israeli, the Jewish people. We are strong today and for a while from here on out, watching over each other just as we have for thousands of years. Through all the suffering, hardship, and trauma, we have held each other’s hands, and asked how we could help. In 2012, as small as the Jewish people are are, as dwindling as their population is, we aren’t going anywhere. Just as Israel has opened its hand to any Jew in despair, in search or refuge or a fresh beginning, we must open our hands to the Israeli who suffers, who lives in despair, and who needs help. That’s what Natal is here for.
I came here with all sorts of notions, uncertainties, and opinions, but as I became more educated and had the opportunity to see this place with my own eyes, I found it much harder to take a stance on the conflict. I looked around me saw extremism, war, hatred, and terrible memories on the faces of people I saw.
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| An Israeli Child Wounded from A Rocket Attack is Taken to an Ambulence |
Trauma has truly become a part of Israeli culture. Every person you talk to has a story of a loved one who has fallen in battle, a friend who has been taken by terrorism, or about a community learning to cope with constant rocket fire. Hearing such things evokes a lot of emotions. However, ef we are unable to control those emotions, the prosperity of this country is in danger. We must have hope. Hope lead to the creation of this country, to the survival of the Jewish people, and hopefully one day will lead to peace. In order for this country to truly flourish--to actualize to its full potential and solve its problems--it must face its dark history and learn to grow from it.
During Yom Hazikaron--Memorial Day, my program gave me the opportunity to go visit a military cemetery. While there, they gave us rags and memorial candles, in order that we find an unattended grave, and take care of it (a great deed in Judaism). Upon entering the cemetary, we found thousands of people with smiles on their faces. It looked more like the scene of an art fair than a memorial service. I walked through isles of graves, but I couldn’t find a single one that hadn’t been attended to. Every grave had a soldier and a family in front of it, with flowers and stones all over it, and a memorial candle or two on the side. So I walked around as a spectator, a visitor, just as I have been for 8 months now.
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| Israeli Military Cemetary |
Eventually, as expected, I heard a siren--indicating the moment of silence. Suddenly, the crowd that seemed so uplifted turned somber, as the thousands of people around me looked down and closed their eyes. Soldiers put up their salute. Everyone was quiet for two minutes. It was truly moving.
The same thing happened during Yom Hashoah.
I was walking through the street on the way to Natal, and the siren went off. The bustling traffic came to a dead halt as everyone got out of their cars at the biggest intersection near me, and stood in silence to remember the fallen. I saw no fear in anyone's face. I saw hope. I felt hope. The Jewish people have come so far, from exile after exile, to pogrom, to holocaust, to war after war, and now, in 2012, we are as strong as ever. We have a country, and we can very much be Jewish without being religious.
A Highway Stops completely for Yom Hashoah's Memorial Siren
One thing I have learned while being here is that Israel, whether you like it or not, is today the global center of Jewish culture. I’ve recently been reading a book recently called Far From Zion, in which the author travels the globe studying the Jewish communities in the strangest of places. He wished at the beginning to do this in order to prove that the Jewish people doesn’t need to be binded to the Zionist state of Israel. However, everywhere he went he found Israel. Every dwindling community that had been forced to go through generations of oppression was mostly in Israel or fully assimilated. Every prosperous community was keeping Israel in mind. Most of all, even in Africa, Bosnia, and Burma, the Jews prayed in their synagogue in the direction of Jerusalem. Because of this country, we are as much together today as we have ever been.
But we cannot forget the costs. Israel cannot forget dreams of peace and “crush our enemies” forever. We need to find lasting solutions. It is very difficult, as nearly anyone here can tell you, and at times it very much seems impossible. However, we must never lose hope. In order to address a solution, we must first address our own problems. Hundreds of thousands of citizens are under fire by rockets on a sub-regular basis. Thousands are still having difficulty managing horrific memories of war and terror. Just as the Jewish people were able to rise above their difficulties in order to create the State of Israel, we must heal from our wounds so that we can move on to greener pastures.
Thousands of families have been torn apart when their husbands, wives, and children have been taken in battle or in terror. If their pain goes untreated, they could be unable to function as a member of society--dealing many negative consequences to Israel's ever-changing status quo. As much as the atrocities have hurt us, we can not allow them to break us down. PTSD can totally stop you from maintaining relationships, from sleeping, and even from operating in a work environment. Israel must learn from its pain, and grow.
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| Between 74-90% of Sderot Children Display Symptoms of PTSD |
Yesterday, on the way to my friend’s initiation ceremony into the Israeli army I met a man on the side of the road going the same way. We walked from the bus stop for a good half hour, discussing this very subject of PTSD. He was from Sderot, the city bordering Gaza that has been constantly exposed to violence for over ten years. I asked him about the rockets, and how they affect him and his community.
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| A House in Sderot Damaged by Rocket Fire from Gaza |
He said, “Yeah. On several occasions I have just barely missed a rocket attack. If I had been a few meters away, there's a chance that I wouldn't be here today talking to you. It is very difficult living there. With the raids overhead nearly every day, we live in constant fear. It is difficult to live a normal life.”
I told him how I volunteer for Natal, an NGO that provides treatment for victims of PTSD.
He told me, “That’s great. But come live in Sderot, and you won’t have to be a volunteer for any organization. Just living here you become one. We help each other. If we didn’t have our neighbors, we would be in shambles. I am a religious man, you can see by the kippa on my head. I feel safe, because I have hope. I trust that there is someone looking out for me, for my friends, and for my family.”
At that point we split. I saw my best friend enacted into a military which is defending those residents in Sderot. With all the smiling faces, the parents taking pictures, and soldiers making an oath, I felt something special. There truly is someone watching over them. There is the army. There is Natal. There is us--the Jews outside Israel, the common Israeli, the Jewish people. We are strong today and for a while from here on out, watching over each other just as we have for thousands of years. Through all the suffering, hardship, and trauma, we have held each other’s hands, and asked how we could help. In 2012, as small as the Jewish people are are, as dwindling as their population is, we aren’t going anywhere. Just as Israel has opened its hand to any Jew in despair, in search or refuge or a fresh beginning, we must open our hands to the Israeli who suffers, who lives in despair, and who needs help. That’s what Natal is here for.
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| Me With Franco After He Was Initiated Into the IDF Tank Unit, Shirion |
So proud!
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LOVED IT!
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