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over.
centers across the country to remember the fallen. They stood at attention
Sunday night at 8 o’clock as the siren eerily blasted from north to south,
plunging us into deep contemplation and sorrow. This night, we remember those
who fell in the many wars that were fought in the last 66 years, as well as
those who were killed from terrorist attacks.
read aloud in each community. Tragedy has hit every place in this country, from
the smallest kibbutz to the larger cities. Ra’anana, which is a smallish town today,
was a tiny village some forty years ago. Yet during the wars of 1967 and 1972,
four, five and six boys were killed daily. The announcer read their ages slowly,
“Eighteen. Nineteen.”
deep sobs, the multiple funerals that the community suffered daily; a loss that
tore, ripping deep holes in hearts and never went away.
are invited to place a wreath and to tell their stories. We heard from a widow,
a man who lost his brother and a mother who lost her son. These people are all
from Ra’anana; I may have seen them in the grocery line or in the library. They
may seem to lead a routine life, yet their existence is never the same after
such a tragic loss.
weeps and dives headfirst into mourning. The stories of those who were killed
are broadcast on TV in countless films that illustrate beautiful, hopeful,
happy lives that are cut, gashed, blunted. The cameras took us into living rooms
and classrooms. We met the victims’ school teachers, their best friends, their
parents. They showed us chubby baby pictures, the bar mitzvah photos, videos of
happy family trips and glowing report cards. And then, the parents take us into
the soldiers’ bedrooms. Enshrined. Clothes in drawers, books on shelves, as if
the solider is expected to walk in the door at any minute. Yet never will.
despair to joy as we gear up for Yom Ha’atzma’ut, Israel Independence Day. It
may be hard to understand how weeping can turn to dancing, sobbing to laughter.
But it works because it represents the tension between tragedy and joy, between
suffering and redemption. Just last week, we mourned the loss of six million
Jews during Yom Hashoa, Holocaust Remembrance Day. And eight days later, we
mourn those who perished in wars and terror.
country mourns then looks brightly to the future. We feel deep sorrow and we
rebuild. Israel was built form the ashes of the Holocaust and we forge bright
futures despite our continued losses. This is our beauty and our energy and our
spark.
Ra’anana’s main street, I passed open-air concerts, people dancing in circles and
children atop soldiers’ shoulders grinning, waving flags.
palpable. And strong. I was mesmerized watching women dance the hora; as their
feet thumped the ground in one united, determined step, I felt as if they were
planting joy, optimism and a bright future that brims over.
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