I recently attended a video conference for the Ki Va Moed project that couples Long Island congregations, like the HJC, with sister communities in Jerusalem. In honor of Israel’s 60th, people on both sides of the Atlantic reminisced about these 6 decades of statehood. For lack of time, the discussion and reminiscing only made it to the 70’s, when the Israeli video monitor abruptly cut off, due to a Maccabiah game. I would have added my own thoughts about Israel during the 80’s, as I recall with vivid scenes still in my mind, the celebration of Israel at 40.
We began the celebration of Yom Ha’atzma-ut by first experiencing Yom Ha-zikaron, Israel’s Memorial Day, not as a picnic at the beach, or a department store sale, but as an historical trek through Israel’s War of Independence. We hiked the “Derech Burma” and the “Derech Ha-Jeepim” and sat on the top of the Castel, hearing stories of the battles that raged in the hills surrounding Jerusalem in 1948. At each war monument and memorial we visited, Israeli teens were assembled and ceremonies were held; these graduating seniors would soon be entering the army. In each place we visited, I kept hearing one particular song played over and over, “Shir Eretz,” by Natan Yonatan and Sasha Argov. The melody was particularly haunting and conveyed the sadness of the words:
A land that consumes its settlers
And flowing with milk and honey and blue
Sometimes she herself also steals
The poor man’s sheep
A land that sweetened his dust
And salted like tears all of her shores
That her lovers gave her all that they were able to give. . .
The true meaning of the poetry was evident when our group arrived, albeit late in the day, at Mount Herzl, at the military cemetery where so many of Israel’s fallen soldiers are buried. Covering each and every grave was flowers, thousands and thousands of flowers. The smell alone was intoxicating. The sight of so many bouquets was simply arresting. We learned that the florists in Israel donated these flowers for just this purpose, to commemorate the fallen soldiers. I had never seen anything comparable here in the United States. At the time, I had no connection to anyone who had served in the military, nor had I lost a relative in battle. What was obvious in Israel was that each family has buried someone, or perhaps many individuals, long before they should have done so. No one could go untouched by the wars and constant upheaval.
As emotionally charged as the day was, as raw as I felt by evening, I had no idea that the coming day would be the polar opposite. Israel’s 40th birthday felt like our Independence Day, Mardi Gras, and New Year’s Eve all rolled into one enormous street party. Like Yom Kippur, all of the main streets in downtown Jerusalem were closed to all forms of traffic save pedestrians. People danced in the streets, bopping each other on the heads with the plastic “patish” (toy hammer). There was a sense of glee, overwhelming joy in the celebration of the fact of Israel’s existence, as we danced a hora in Liberty Bell Park. I have never felt that pride, connection, or sense of belonging in all of my years of celebrating July 4th here in the U.S. The following morning five military jets flew over Jerusalem in formation, trailing clouds of smoke behind them.
Today, I can only imagine how powerful it must have been to help Israel celebrate turning 60 there, in the land. Some of the glory is lost here in New York – we cannot recreate the pure romance of being there in Israel. The one element that always saves me, however, is the music. Through the poetry and songs of the land, I am ever transported back to Israel; my own longing to be there is openly acknowledged through the connection to the music and musicians of the land.