22-24 April 2007

Sunday wound down quickly as everyone got ready for Memorial Day. As stores and restaurants closed early, I ventured out with a friend to the Kotel (Western Wall) for the official state ceremony. The original plan was to go to a local ceremony, but I got convinced to try to find a place at the state one. We get there early enough to get a standing spot by the barricade, several yards from the seats for select soldiers and bereaved fmailies, and appropriately far from the speakers' podiums. To our left were all my former students from Hebrew U -- a bit awkward but they were too excited to be there. At one point an Orthodox couple came up to us and the husband said to his wife "These nice people are going to move for us, so you can stand here and the men will move to the left, won't they?" After hearing the man huff and puff for a few minutes over no one's response, I turned around and told him that "that's not how it [gender separation, normal for praying at the Kotel] works on Yom Hazikaron." They left and I managed to calm down, furious at yet another American's insolent need to not speak Hebrew in Israel. Who's commemoration was this anyways?
The ceremony would get started in a few minutes, as the speaker a few feet from my head announced (I was the tallest for quite some distance in the growing crowd). The giggling yeshiva girls behind us were silenced by an irate Israeli woman, and in came the honor guard. Then the acting President & Speaker of Knesset. Then the IDF Chief of Staff. The one-minute siren went off. The ceremonial flame was lit with the help of a widow of a soldier from the Second Lebanon War, who it was announced used his body to shield his fellow soldiers from a grenade. The Israeli version of "Taps" was played. The President and Chief of Staff spoke humbly about consolation and security vs freedom. Mourner's Kaddish and the funerary prayer El Maleh Rahamim was said. The National Anthem was sung. And it was over.
In 30 minutes a wave of emotions washed over the attendees, myself included, in a way no other ceremony has. Short and meaningful, a great way to remember.
We decided to try for another commemoration, tihs one a night of classic songs about soldiers and lost loved ones. As we didn't reserve the free tickets in advance (as many didn't) we waited for a long time for any chance of getting in. After standing at the box office for a long time, many people had given up and gone. I was about ready to do the same, until we moved to the entrance door. More waiting, they finally found us seats which ended up being better than had we ordered in advace -- center orchestra.
The event was practically like Yom Hazikaron assemblies in high school: roses and candles strewn about the stage, readings and performances, and the Anthem at the end with no applause throughout. The difference? Besides two popular musicians' performances, there was the classic Israeli activity of communal singing. The words are projected on a big screen, but instead of the synthesized sounds of karaoke, there's a live band and everyone sings. All the classic songs of love, endless metaphors of gardens and beaches, and the multi-generational audience sang together songs as old as the State itself. A great way to end a powerful evening.

The next morning, after not sleeping well at all, I got up early to trek to Har Herzl, Israel's Arlington Cemetary. I was invited by a family friend and former colleague to go with her family to visit the grave of her husband's brother, killed in the Yom Kippur War of 1973. I ran to catch the bus, only to end up getting off to grab some water (it got real hot all of a sudden). At the central bus station, free transport was being provided to the cemetary. The traffic got heavier and heavier, and we eventually were let out to trek the last few blocks on foot. At the entrance teenagers were giving out bottles of water, flowers for the graves and booklets of the prayers -- all for free. What a potential moneymaker, my American mind thought, and here they were giving away expensive flowers out for free.
We met at the gate, and walked quickly to the section where the grave is located. As we're running to get there, the two-minute siren goes off and we instantly stop where we are frozen in thought. The siren ends and we walk to the grave, up on a terrace with other graves of soliders from the same war and lots of family members at each one. Each grave says the persons name, their parents, their place and date of birth, and where & when they were killed. Each family had their own way of honoring their relative, from cleaning the tombstone to the types of strewn flowers. Family reunions were taking place, a seemingly odd choice of location but incredibly dignified and warm. We listened to the official ceremony through loudspeakers, the event taking place on the other side of the ridge. The Prime Minister spoke well, the pomp ensued, a 21-gun salute punctuated the air, and everyone sang the Anthem in a loud unison. Shortly afterwards, we left with everyone else. Once again, powerful and brief.
The rest of the day was a communal daze, with few cars on the road and few people out and about. It felt like a religious holiday, but without the rabbinic prohibitions against work. After taking a nap, I started making plans for the start of Independence Day. The music on the radio was amazing as always: the classic Israeli songs from the army entertainment troupes, classic singers, and more. Hebrew may not be the best language to convey facts and science, but it dones a great job with poetry and emotions. Combined with a sound stemming from traditional Jewish themes and pop structure, true classics.
I slowly got myself together and off I was to Tel Aviv. I met a friend from college at his place and walked to a party thrown by high-school friends around the corner. Their place was a huge apartment on the up-market street appropriately called Rothschild Boulevard. I saw a friend from high school who moved back to Israel eight years ago, as well as people from all parts of my life, stocking up on drinks before hitting the town. The target: a block party in the gentrified neighborhood of Florentin. After some time, we were off.
The crowd got bigger and bigger, until we were surrounded by people dancing to music pumping from the nearby apartments, a blend of Jamaican dancehall and house music that provided enough ethnicness for the crowd. The intersections were full of 20-somethings and stands of alcohol on sale. A party like this could never happen in Jerusalem. Not just the huge gathering of people outside with little security -- but the hordes of well-dressed young people who can stay out until dawn at a party. I stayed out for a while, witnessing all sorts of drama unfold, until my ability to stay upright began to fade. Let's just say there's a huge difference between 20 and 25 when it comes to staying out late and partying. I made it back to Jerusalem very late (birds chirping and night slowly dissipating) and woke up too late for another party.

Creating new rituals where the background is Jewish is mesmerizing. Everything about the last 48 hours felt Jewish, depite its secular content. Aside from a great 48 hours of reflecting and honoring this new country of mine, it got even better: I got asked to work again for birthright israel and Hillel, coordinating four buses starting next week for a very good price. From being bored at school and the lack of school (strike keeps going and going and going...) to feeling deflated from my last job experience, this is exactly what I needed to hear. We'll see what happens should school restart, but it'll be great to be doing something again that brings me some satisfaction.