I’ve got this beach, and the Pacific Ocean, all to myself. I’ve just finished Tashlich, casting my sins into the living waters. As I was tossing tiny bits of my organic, sunflower bread failings into the depths, a family of dolphins came to dance in the waves before me, bearing witness and reminding me, as I was in the process of remembering, what life is really about.

I’ve been considering memory these days. This past weekend was Rosh Hashanah, the Head of the Year. One of the original names for this holiday, before it became know as Rosh Hashanah, was Yom Hazikaron—Day of the Memory.

What is it we’re meant to recall?

A hint, as it so often does, resides in the word itself, zikaron, which has the same numerical value as the word zerah, seed.

Rosh Hashanah, to me this year at least, is about this more than anything else: If I strip away all the encrustations, all the mistaken identities and voices I have inherited and created, if I nullify all falsehoods and remember the seed that was planted in the universe that has become and is becoming me, who am I? Yom Hazikaron, the day of remembering who we truly are, is an invitation to become that pure self, an opportunity to connect to and embody our truest identities.

This is a powerful time, especially as we had the double-blessing this year of Rosh Hashanah falling on the Sabbath. Judaism is, by and large, a religion of sacredness built into time—holiness comes in waves throughout the year; though the ocean is constant, the tides shift. But the amazing thing is, we determine the times; according to tradition, we set the dates when we look to the sky and declare the new moon. In other words, it is our responsibility to call sacredness into being; we choose the holy tide.

If anything, I pray that we learn—as a people, as humanity—to live up to this responsibility; that we look to the heavens—the constellate arc of our past, present and future—and say, ‘I see the new moon, a new era is dawning.’ I pray that we put down our distractions, our busyness, accumulation and competition, and together kindle the lights that usher in a sacred new world.

The choice is ours. The duty is ours. Ours alone. We have been conditioned to wait for someone else to heal this world, to remedy the ills that we’ve known to be unconscionable since we were small children, fresh seeds. This is the memory we are called to recollect—that the world is ripe for a new way of being; that we know this, and that we care.

I pray that at this time, when the world so desperately needs it, we all nurture these seeds within us; that our efforts to draw holiness into this world bear fruit, and that we all come to taste the sweetness of this sacred ripening.

A sweet and holy year to you all,

Jonathan

Center Field: Israeli 6th graders learn hope, not hate

By Gil Troy, Jerusalem Post, 4-30-09

On Monday, just before Yom Hazikaron, Israel’s Remembrance Day, and shortly after I returned from the Durban Review Conference in Geneva, I was invited to talk about Durban to my son’s 6th grade class in Jerusalem. He attends a Dati-Mamlachti, religious public school, Efrata, in Baka. I have spoken to elementary school classes at various Jewish day schools in Montreal over the years, so I have some sense of what kids this age know and don’t know about current events, and about Israel. What shocked me - and then in many ways impressed me - (beyond their excellent, polite behavior throughout the class) was how shocked so many of the sixth graders in Jerusalem were by the depth of anti-Israel hatred on display at the Durban II conference.

I began simply by playing a four-minute clip from the Israeli news show “Mabat” on Monday April 20, the day Iran’s President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad opened the Durban Review Conference in Geneva. The kids were understandably confused by the spectacle: someone treated with great honor saying hateful things about their own state; students dressed in multicolored clown wigs throwing red noses at the speaker; dark-suited European diplomats walking out en masse.

After the clip I explained to the students that I showed the clip with no explanation and no context, because that is what happens when we watch the news daily. We get plunged into these events as veritable eyewitnesses, often lacking a bigger picture understanding. I then started unraveling the spool, using slides to tell the story of the anti-racist conference headlined by a racist, the UN conference against discrimination that has become a symbol of discrimination against Jews.

“I don’t understand, what do they mean Zionism is Nazism?” one girl asked when I showed a Durban I poster from 2001 equating the Jewish star with the Swastika attacking “Nazionism.” “Why are they applauding Ahmadinejad?” another wondered.

This, to me, was the morning’s big revelation. Many of the students could not fathom that anyone could link anything Jewish or Israeli with anything Nazi. Probing further, it was clear that most of the students were less aware of the world’s enmity than their peers were in Montreal. I realized the blessed insulation of living in a Jewish state means that they do not see the barrage of anti-Israel criticism on television and in the newspapers Jewish kids experience in the Diaspora.

Moreover, it was clear that these kids were not being taught to hate. And note they study in the National Religious system often caricatured by critics as fomenting intolerance. By not being aware of Palestinians’ demonization of Israel, they were far less likely to demonize Palestinians.

The Yom Hazikaron Remembrance Day ceremonies at school on Tuesday reinforced this impression. The commemoration was sad but focused on the murdered not the murderers. In the spirit of the day, which precedes Yom Ha’atzmaut, Independence Day, the principal ended the ceremony by talking about hopes, dreams, pride in Israel’s accomplishments and the happiness that follows the sadness. Again, not a word of hatred, demonization, or even anger, the logical emotion when contemplating so many young deaths. I only wish Palestinian parents could report that their children were not being raised on vitriol.

As my slide show continued, the questions increased.

“Why did the UN honor Ahmadinejad as the first speaker at the conference?” the teacher asked - the question I have been asked most frequently since my return, and the question Elie Wiesel asked on Yom HaShoah, on Holocaust Remembrance Day in Geneva. I explained that Ahmadinejad exploited UN protocol. The embarrassed Europeans downgraded the conference because of the controversies and most countries sent junior ministers to Geneva. Ahmadinejad was the only head of state to attend, thus earning the first speaker’s slot. I noted that the embarrassment was good. It showed that Durban I’s critics had made an impact and some countries still had a sense of shame.

“Why does the Swiss President look so happy meeting Ahmadinejad?” a student asked when I showed the picture of a beaming Hans-Rudolf Merz greeting Ahmadinejad. This absurdity required an explanation of the passive complicity of the enabler rather than the active crimes of the deviant. I said the Swiss President could have snubbed Ahmadinejad as America’s president does when unsavory characters visit the UN. He also could have greeted Ahmadinejad coldly. The effusive welcome reflected the weakness of the diplomat, the cowardice of too many Europeans, who let evil flourish by being polite and doing nothing.

“Why did the students dress up like clowns and throw red noses?” another student asked. I repeated the French students’ explanation, that Ahmadinejad and the anti-Zionists’ racism had turned the anti-racist conference into a circus, so they might as well dress appropriately. The students appreciated that logic - although I challenged them to consult with each other and their teachers, rabbis, and parents about what is the appropriate behavior when faced with evil and the politeness that enables it. I noted I was proud that none of the Jewish students behaved violently or aggressively. They were disciplined, clever, strategic and quite limited in their actions.

“How come only Jewish students are standing with the Darfuri refugees?” some asked when I showed a picture of Darfuris and Jewish students in front of the UN, protesting the UN’s silence about Sudan’s genocide. “Why doesn’t the UN help?” others asked when I told them about the many human rights activists and victims from Darfur, Iran, Egypt, Libya, and Rwanda frustrated that the UN’s anti-Zionist obsession derailed attempts to stop human rights abuses. To these pertinent, depressing questions, I had no adequate answers.

Yom Kippur for the secular nation

Roaming the streets the siren stills echos
Off the vacant store fronts
A ghost town
So that we will remember

The buzzing in the air
The electric charge of a collective silence
Spirits are rising above us
Even the streets signs remember

Its an uncomfortable quiet.
It carries out to valley below
Where our youths rest
Not so peacefully

The morning will bring wreaths
And half burned out candles
Scattered across the nation

There is no news today.
We must atone for what we have done
Sent our children off to die.

Today is Yom Kippur
Tomorrow will be a new year.

   As Jews in New York City prepared for Victims of Terrorism Remembrance Day, Yom HaZikaron 2009, U.S. President Barack H. Obama’s VC-25 (military version of the Boing 747) buzzed office buildings at the site where radical Muslim terrorists attacked the World Trade Center on September 11, 2001. Workers fled buildings in fear as the low-flying plane and two fighter jets roared past windows for about thirty minutes.  The federal government did not notify mayor Michael Blumberg, who ordered the area to be evacuated.  Feds also imposed a gag order on the New York City police department, forbidding them to publicize the flyover, which is customary to avoid panic.    

   The Defense Department called the occurrence a “photo op.” They claim they needed a photo of the President’s plane near the Statue of Liberty at 10:00am, so they buzzed the city during the same time of day as the 9-11 attacks.   An “anonymous source” said President Obama was furious to hear about the event, suggesting that he had no prior knowledge of a mission involving the plane known as Air Force One (when the President is on board), and an F-16 military fighter jet. 

I hope this was a boneheaded move from an ignorant administration.   The alternative is too terrible.

Click <HERE> to read about it.

   Yom HaZikaron began at sunset April 27, 2009 in the U.S., and seven hours earlier (from NYC) in Israel. It commemorates the 24,293 civilians and soldiers who have died in the fight for Israeli independence since 1860.

Read about Yom HaZikaron at  http://www.israelnationalnews.com/News/News.aspx/131060

By Eli Ajzenman

The heavy rain seemed to set the somber mood last night at  the Robert Blackwood Hall. The evening  was a commemoration , a remembrance, Yom Ha Zikaron, in memory of all those who had given their lives either in battle or as victims , for Israel, for Jews everywhere, so that we may call Israel our home.

Solemn songs of lost friends,of battles fought, of the futility of war and its consequences were presented with  heartfelt sincerity. Interspersed throughout, were personal vignettes, presented by families, of some of those who had given their lives as soldiers or as victims in since 1948.

Significantly it was about names, not numbers, as the presenter poignantly advised that numbers tended to fade into insignificance but names carry with them the souls and memories of those that no longer feel the pain of survival.

The night ended as all our ceremonies do with Hatikva.Never more powerful then when sung with 1200 hundred people all longing for our cherished land to finally be at peace.

Typically, as if after a hard battle, many , mainly Israeli’s I suspect, gathered in the foyer. Some to  listen but many to join in and  sing with their friends and others in a more relaxed , more reflective mood.

I left feeling somewhat in awe yet satisfied that in spite of our troubles and travails that the spirit of our people would continue to overcome and see hope and faith in the future.

The rain continued to fall as I left , yet somehow in the quiet and darkness of the night, it was comforting to know that it to gives us life , and when it clears the new day is fresh and clear.

It seems that no matter what the trajedy is, Jews somehow find a way to have simcha. And so with Yom Hazikaron finishing ,Israel and those of us here jump straight into Yom Ha’atzmaut. Birth and rebirth of Israel

Tonight at the Hamer Hall at the arts center in Melbourne many thousands came to celebrate Life , joy and all that Israel has accomplished.

Together with 18 or so featured singers and dancers. Melbourne’s Jewish community was treated to songs of joy and redemption, love and laughter.

The ceremony opened with Advance Australia Fair and the  raising to full mast  of the Israeli flag. A reversal from the night before when it was lowered to half mast.

Danny Lamb (President Zionist Council of Victoria) opened proceedings with warmth, tempered only by the announcement of the passing of Dick Pratt.

The haunting tones of a didgeridoo melding with the trumpeting  notes of a shofar appropriately set the tone of an evening sprinkled with acknowledgement to the  traditional owners of this land. Just as the Aboriginals historically are inter-twinned  body, soul and tradition to their land so it is with us to Israel

The opening song was Sholem Aleichem, traditionally sung on Friday nights , welcoming in the Sabbath with its peaceful spirit. Sung tonight as an entree  and welcome to all those that came to show their support.

The noise of hundreds of Zionist youth shouting and encouraging not just their friends on stage but all of us in the hall to participate and soak up the energy of the music and dancing , was in itself an inspiration. Their enthusiasm and constant encouragement a reminder that its is in our children,our youth,that the hope  and dreams of past generations is embedded and nurtured.

The evening only got better with time and the audience participation in singing Oseh Shalom along with Karen Feldman, was for me a highlight. The familiar gathering of all the participants on stage for the Finale singing Kan Noladeti ( I was born here) concluded a wonderful,joyful night.

Notably and most obviously  there were no references made to those that seek our destruction. No angry rhetoric or incitement to violence was uttered or implied. This was, as Jews traditionally do, a night of simcha and sholem.

Hatikva once again, ended the ceremony but unlike the previous night had a more upbeat and happy slant in its delivery.

I encourage anyone who didn’t participate this year in either ceremonies to make the effort next year. With the strains of antisemitism and Israel bashing constantly in our ears , its occasions like these that put the coarse rhetoric and angry crowds far from our thoughts.

May I anticipate the pleasure of your company next year and may it be in Jerusalem

Yom Hazikaron is the day where we “remember” all the holy Jewish soldiers who gave their lives for the Jewish Land

Why is this day a day of memory? Why is specifically memory the function by which to relate to the soldiers?

In learning from the Torah where the obligation to tell our children the story of the Jewish people leaving Egypt, there is a profound difference of opinion between the Sefer HaChinuch and the Rambam, Maimonides.

The Sefer HaChinuch (13th Century) learns out from the verse in Shmot / Exodus 13:8:

“On that day (Passover) you must tell your child, ‘it is because of this that God acted for me when I left Egypt’ “

As is explicit in the verse, “tell your child” – it is almost intuitive to say that this verse is the source for the telling of the story of redemption to our children. But the Rambam doesn’t see it that way.

Hilchot Chametz & Matzah 7:1 – It is a positive Mitzvah in the Torah to tell of the wonders and the miracles that were done for our people on Pesach night as it says in Exodus 13, ‘Remember this day when you left Egypt’ as it says later in Exodus 20, ‘Remember the Shabbos day’. How do we know this is on Pesach? As it says, ‘And you shall tell your child on that day’….

The Rambam connects “remembering” the Exodus to the “remembering” of Shabbos. If remembering were limited to commemorating – then it would not be related to Shabbos. For the remembering of Shabbos is not a memory at all, but rather an experience, a living, a consciousness. Shabbos not a memory for we live it, we experience the rest, the serene calm after a work week and the extra soul that God gives us.

So the Rambam, by connecting the nature of Shabbos to the memory of leaving Egypt, is redefining memory as consciousness, or conscious experience. But we’re not done.

The Rambam continues and says that this is the whole definition of telling our children, of giving it over to the next generation. For the only way to convey a reality, message, vision and world view is not by speaking an idea, but by embodying a conscious reality. When a person remembers the Shabbos he lives it – only then will it relate to the next generation. Not through thought but through it being real with the speaker.

So Yom Hazikaron is not a memory but a living, an experience, a consciousness of understanding how the Jewish people are able to be in their land: through self-sacrifice, mesirat nefesh. We do not remember the soldiers who gave their lives for the Jewish people and their Holy Land – we consciously experience their loss, we feel it, we know it we live it. We are conscious of the reality that we are where we are because Jewish people became soldiers who sacrificed their own lives. In order to build, create, and generate the ability for the Jewish soul to return home. May God also remember – and may we see the fulfillment of the Prophets that the Land of Israel be the joyous Mother as her children return home.

]]> http://ronshapiro.wordpress.com/2009/04/27/yom-hazikaron-2009/ Mon, 27 Apr 2009 21:51:41 +0000 ronshapiro http://ronshapiro.wordpress.com/2009/04/27/yom-hazikaron-2009/

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“Today I remember the men and women who died tragically for my country, the State of Israel.”

Yom Hazikaron
The time between the destruction of the 2nd Temple and the establishment of the State of Israel in 1948 was marked by Jewish Persecution.  Throughout Europe and Asia, Jews could not find one place to sit down and live in peace.  From blood libels to the Spanish Inquisition, the Dreyfus trial to the Holocaust, Jews have been targeted by every other nation as scapegoats for their problems.

Prior to independence and more than 61 years later, Israel has lost some of its best workers, intellectuals, laborers, and friends in the fight to keep the Jewish state alive.  When neighboring Arab countries attempt to drive Israel into the sea, the Israel Defense Forces step up to protect the country which is not only theirs, but that of the entire nation stemming from Yitzhak (also known as Israel).  We are blessed to have a country that has survived 61 years, so we must remember how we achieved this feat.  We give tribute to those who allow us to live without persecution in the land of Israel.

Judaism is a religion centered around looking back at the past: remembering Creation and the Exodus from Egypt, remembering family members who pass away, remembering the Shoah.  Today, we remember those who were killed in battle and those who were innocent bystanders.  Remembrance is so critical that the day is named after the word (Yom Hazikaron comes from the root of zocher/lizchor – to remember).

Many times, the Israelis who lost their lives were secular Jews; Jews who shared a connection only through common name of religion.  It is this connection, however, that makes the camaraderie so special.  They care not the level of observance, yet they will do anything to protect a Jew.

Don’t ever forget those who fought so you could be safe in Israel.  Today I remember Michael Levin (z”l) as a hero and role model for many.  Michael attended Ramah Poconos and was active in Hagesher USY, went on USY High, and decided to make Aliyah directly after Nativ.  He was killed tragically in the 2nd Lebanese War in 2006, the only American and chayal boded (lone soldier) to die that summer.  Below is his quote from his Nativ yearbook:

“You can’t fulfill your dreams unless you dare to risk it all.”
-Michael Levin (z”l), Of Blessed Memory

Today is Yom Ha’zikaron (Memorial Day for Israeli Fallen Soldiers and Victims of Terrorism), an Israeli national holiday.  To remember all of Israel’s fallen soldiers, everyone will stop what they’re doing and stand still for two minutes as sirens go off throughout the whole country.  It’s amazing to be in Israel at this time… 

On my birthright trip we visited the grave of Michael Levin… a young jew, from Pennsylvania, and a soldier in the Paratroopers (in the Israeli Defense Force) in operations in Baalbek, Lebanon who was killed in the line of duty on August 1, 2006.  An American-born Oleh (immigrant) to Israel, who knew from a young age (16) that he wanted to serve in the IDF. 

This brave young man gave the greatest full measure of sacrifice for the nation and people he loved.

In Loving Memory of Michael Levin 

For Immediate Release

April 27, 2009

Contact: Jaryn Emhof

850-487-5229 

Statement by Senate President Jeff Atwater regarding Israel’s Memorial Day

“The strong relationship between Florida and Israel is rooted in our shared values and mutual interests. The US and Israeli democracies have been allies and friends for six decades. This year, the Florida Senate passed a Resolution expressing solidarity with Israel in its defense of freedom and independence. The people of Israel have demonstrated great courage in the face of unspeakable horrors and indiscriminate attacks upon their civilian population. 

Today on Yom Hazikaron, Israel’s Memorial Day, I and my many fellow Floridians remember those who gave their lives for the State of Israel in the War for Independence and in subsequent wars of defense.

Florida and Israel are tied to each other through economic trade, culture and education but mostly by our great people. Florida is fortunate to have one of the largest Jewish communities in America, a true bridge between our two nations.

I am very proud that Florida’s support for Israel is consistently bi-partisan and I congratulate Israel on her 61st year of Independence.”

###

in memory of  our 24,293 fallen soldiers and terror victims

From darkness into light, that is our journey this week. In one seven day period the commemoration of Yom HaShoah (Holocaust remembrance day) to Yom HaZikaron (commemoration of the Israeli soldiers who have fallen so that Israel may stand strong), to Yom HaAtzma’ut (Israeli Independence Day). How blessed we are to live in this time where we can reflect and celebrate life in such an intense way. It is because of those who are no longer here, that we have life, community, and the land of Israel. It is because we remember, and never forget, that lives that are no longer are blessings in our midst. It is because so many died that we as a people still live.

Close your eyes, can you hear it?

The rapid staccato of machine gun fire.
The deafening sound of an air raid siren.
The piercing scream of an incoming missile.

In honor of Israel’s fallen soldiers.

This April 28th at 11:00 a.m. we, the Women’s Alliance, in partnership with United Jewish Communities, invite you to observe 2 minutes of much needed silence.

Silence in commemoration of Yom Hazikaron
Because words cannot express our gratitude.

Judith Goldkrand
Women’s Alliance President

Every year on the 4th Iyar, Israeli society remembers her fallen soldiers. Yom Hazikaron – the day of remembrance is the day when Israelis and Zionists around the world remember and give thanks to those who gave their lives for the state. In recent years, the day has also remembered the vicitms of terrorist attacks. This day, and the numerous ceremonies that take place on it is one of the most chokingly emotional days in the calendar – there is nobody in the country that it fails to move; that doesn’t have some personal story to tell. This is a beautiful and moving tradition that affects visitors and tourists as well.

However, there exists no official recognition for those soldiers who’s patriotic sacrifice was not so ultimate. Many of those who fought for Israel throughout her history suffered serious injury – whether physical or psychological. Their story is not one that gains much publicity – occasionally an individual story like that of Dror Kandelshein reaches the surface – but the majority of cases go unrecognised.

Merav Michaeli writes a very interesting article about this in Ha’aretz today. Her polemic takes the line that for the young soldier, death would be preferable to injury as a result of the poor ‘aftercare’ that the State provides:

IDF soldiers go with injured colleagues for medical aid

I think that she raises an important issue here. I don’t take this article literally – more so that Israel does fantastic work in the way that it looks after its Mishpachot Shakulot (bereaved families), but that it has a long way to come to give equal care, attention and respect to soldiers who receive injuries that may destroy their lives.
The psychological care is also worrying. Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) is hardly a new phenomenon. Israel is a world leader in so many different medical fields that it is embarassing that this issue exists here.

Along with everyone else, I never hope that harms befalls a soldier, but it would be good for a soldier’s mentality and morale to know that, chas v’shalom, should something happen to them, that they had the full and unwavering support of the State. Can we genuinely say that this is the case?

I saw quite a bit today, on my Yom Hazikaron travels. Today, Israel’s Memorial Day for it’s fallen soldiers and terror vicitms, has been very meaningful for me.

After Shacharit (my morning prayers) at the Netzarim Yeshiva here in Ariel they recited a special “E-l Maleh Rachamim” (prayer in memory of people who passed away) for the martyrs of the Netzarim community, when it was in Gush Katif – including both Netzarim residents and fallen soldiers. My day opened with a genuine sense that every person who fell defending the State of Israel had not only a name and a family but also a purpose.

Later this morning i was in Petach Tikva for some time. On my way back home to Ariel I passed several Yom Hazikaron ceremonies being organized. The siren wailed while I was on the road – each of the cars pulled aside and each of the drivers stood aside in silent memory and honor. It was a powerful and meaningful moment, though not a suprising one. Only upon my return to Ariel did I see something that made me do a double-take.

After I dropped off the soldier that hitched a ride with me (whom I was pretty sure shed a tear while we were listening to the Har Herzl memorial ceremony over the radio) something rather unique caught my eye. On the opposite side of the road was an elderly man, wearing a sport jacket with civilian clothing – decorated with more medals and badges than I’d ever seen at one time before. Had I not been familiar with Ariel’s Russian war veteran’s museum I would have had no clue as to what was going on. It was, however, clear to me that this man was donning the medals that he recieved over many years of service in The Red Army. But in Israel?, on Yom Hazikaron?

It turns out that I missed the main event. There were many Yom Hazikaron ceremonies throughout Ariel, but one of the more original and interesting ones was in Ariel’s primary commercial center. There, the deputy mayor, along with city residents, paid tribute to Israel’s fallen soldiers. Some of the decorated war veterans from World War II were present. They were, and are Jews, who served in the Red Army in the fight against Hitler and the Germans.

It’s still somewhat surprising to me - the Red Army and Israel’s Memorial Day. Intellectually the correlation between the two seems to be a stretch, at best. And yet, for the war veteran’s there was a natural and necessary connection between the two. As though they were basically stating “we fought as Jews the best way a Jew could fight”. Their affinity to the Israeli Defense Forces is something they carry with them with every one of their medals.

I guess what struck me most about the whole thing was the seam between different stages of Jewish history. These men and their families lived and fought through one of the most profound shifts in the history of our People  – from the depths of the exile to the beginning of the Redemption. 

It’s absolutely amazing to me. As Jews, something deep down inside tells us that everything we are-  our personal experiences, our collective history – it all becomes meaningful when we build our lives in Israel. Sometime along the process of experiencing our Aliyah it finally becomes clear: everything we’ve been through is the basis of everything that we will be.  

I knew it was going to happen. I predicted it last week. Just like on Holocaust Memorial Day, regardless of when I leave work or home, I am always on the freeway when the siren goes off.

Some background for those of you who don’t know about Israel’s memorial day. It couldn’t be more different than the American memorial day. While in the US, Memorial Day is actually a weekend for sales and movie premieres, in Israel Memorial Day is a very somber day.

Israel’s memorial day commemorates not only those soldiers who were killed in action while defending the State of Israel, but all of those who died in acts of terror. Jewish holidays are lunar, meaning they are sundown to sundown, and all start the evening before (like Christmas Eve).

At 8 pm, a 1-minute country-wide siren goes off to commemorate those who died, and at 11 am the following morning a 2-minute siren is heard. Regardless of where you are, everyone stops and stands up for the entire minute. Complete and utter silence ensues. All activities cease. In the case of those driving, like you can read on last week’s post, cars stop on the side of the road in preparation. And yes, many cars are still driving when the siren goes off. So they stop dead in their tracks, in the middle of a 5-lane freeway. And it’s an amazing site.

I won’t bore you with a repetition of last week’s sentiments of awe, though they apply completely here as well. If you haven’t yet, I urge you to read that post. Just like last week’s siren, I was once again in my car when the siren went off, but this time I had made it as far as my town’s main road, and this time got to see a different angle that I hadn’t seen since childhood.

Instead of a bunch of business people on their way to or from work, this time I saw families. Every last child stood in silence. All of those who were even remotely old enough to understand – even 3 year olds. And it’s still amazing. It just doesn’t get old.

Israeli Memorial Day is a set date on the Jewish calendar every year. It is purposefully placed as the day before Israel’s Independence day, which begins tomorrow at sundown. The reasoning behind this was very important.

While Independence Day is an enormous cause for celebration, and this year’s in particular, we cannot forget those who died to get us here. It also works the other way around. While Memorial Day is an extremely sad and somber day, at the end of the day come Independence Day festivities to show that the enormous price paid wasn’t for naught. This is of extreme significance for Israelis, most of whom have served in the army and lost family members or friends to wars or acts of terrorism. Very few Israelis haven’t been touched by either.

Here is a video from a couple of years ago, showing the Ayalon freeway during the siren. Note that many drivers stop their cars ahead of time, and others once the siren begins. You can see more videos in last week’s post about Holocaust Memorial Day.

So, yes, again I was outside when the siren went off, and again, it got to me. I’m beginning to think that, subconsciously, I “make sure” that I’m outside when the siren goes off because the unity of standing outside with strangers is so much more powerful than standing up in your living room alone.

“The state will not be given to the Jewish people on a silver platter.”

So went the famous statement attributed to Chaim Weizmann in 1947, not long after the UN’s decision to partition Palestine. While historians debate as to whether this quote was actual or merely apocryphal, it attests to the profound sense of foreboding in the days leading up to the 1948 War – and to the realization that Jewish independence would almost certainly entail grave sacrifice.

No silver platter, indeed. Now, after 60 years of sacrifice more painful than we ever could have ever imagined, we find ourselves back where we began: witnessing an international effort to partition the land into Jewish and Palestinian states. We might well ask ourselves, what was it all for? As Yom Hazikaron – Israel’s Memorial Day – approaches, we would do well to ask ourselves: were the deaths of the fallen in vain? And if not, then how might we honor their terrible sacrifice?

There can be no doubt that the stakes of the current “partition effort” are unbearably high. If Israel does not find the wherewithal to forge a two-state solution with the Palestinians, the tragic sacrifices of the past 60 years can only give way to one of two scenarios: the end of Israel as a Jewish state or a Jewish apartheid state living in perpetual conflict with a majority Palestinian population. Do any of us really believe that either scenario would honor the sacrifice of those who died defending the dream of Jewish independence?

No, the state was not given to Israel on a silver platter. But on this Yom Hazikaron, it is time to ask, how much sacrifice will be enough? How much tragedy must the peoples of Israel and Palestine endure before they realize that their mutual futures depend on their living together and not dying together?

This point was never made more eloquently than by the late Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin in a 1993 speech that now resonates with tragic poignancy:

Let me say to you, the Palestinians: we are destined to live together on the same soil, in the same land. We, the soldiers who have returned from battle stained with blood, we who have seen our relatives and friends killed before our eyes, we who have attended their funerals and cannot look into the eyes of their parents, we who have come from a land where parents bury their children, we who have fought against you, the Palestinians.

We say to you today in a loud and a clear voice: enough of blood and tears. Enough. We have no desire for revenge. We harbor no hatred towards you. We, like you, are people who want to build a home, to plant a tree, to love, to live side by side with you in dignity, in empathy, as human beings, as free men. We are today giving peace a chance, and saying again to you: Enough. Let us pray that a day will come when we all will say: Farewell to the arms.

In the end, there is only one way we can honor the memory of the fallen: by redoubling our resolve to pursue peace.

(This piece is part of the new collection “Pointing the Way to Peace and Security: A Resource for Rabbis and Cantors on Israel’s 60th Birthday,” published the Rabbinic Cabinet of Brit Tzedek V’shalom). Click on the link for the entire pdf).