The Spirit of Remembrance

Today is Yom HaZikaron (Remembrance Day). Well, today is Yom HaZikaron Eve. I've heard, that this is the saddest day of the year for Israelis. This is the day that they remember soldiers that have died in battle, and those lost in terrorist attacks. In theory, it's like Memorial day in the US. However, I had a conversation with an Israeli (who happens to currently be a soldier as well) and he said to me that he doesn't understand Americans. During Memorial day, Americans have BBQ's, go to the beach, celebrate. We treat Memorial day as a day that marks the beginning of summer, and therefore fun. He couldn't understand why people would celebrate on a day meant to honor those lost.

My explanation is that in America, unless a family member or friend is a soldier stationed overseas, we feel so detached from it. We don't know. We don't feel. A few days ago, we had a seminar day. We learned about the Holocaust (Last week was Yom HaShoah) and we also went to Mount Hertzel, where many notable people in Israel's history are buried (Yitzhak Rabin, Golda Meir, and Herzel to name a few). Also buried there, however, are soldiers. Soldiers who fought in the war of independence, the six day war, the Yom Kippur war, the Lebanon war. Soldiers still today are buried there. The seminar day ended up being a bit of a flop. It was well intentioned, but as most of Mt. Herzel was roped off in preparation for tonight's Yom Hazikaron ceremony, as well as the insane amount of people there, it didn't really leave us with the impression they were probably hoping for.

That said, one thing stuck out in my mind. The director of the program, Elana, told us that in Israel, Yom Hazikaron is moving for everyone. Everyone in the country has lost someone in their first circle. Not friends of friends, or friend's of co-workers, or family members of friends, but their friends, their family, their co-workers.

Tonight I went with most of the others on my program to a Yom Hazikaron ceremony at Rabin Square. There were thousands of people. When the ceremony started, it became quite. People listened to one sad speech after another, sang along to one sad song after another, and cried at each depressing video about a young boy lost. When you looked around, you could see it, but more so, you could feel that just about everyone there (and I say that in reference to people visiting) was thinking about someone. Remembering someone. Ironically, on the way back home, one of my friends mentioned that she, too, was remembering what Elana had said.

Another thing that stuck out in my mind. When the speaker was reading something, he said that once a year we remember. We don't remember a nameless person. We remember someone dear to us. And that's exactly what you felt. It was absolutely amazing to be a part of that. To feel a nation remembering those dear to them, those gone.