NEVER FORGET THE SACRIFICE OF OUR SOLDIERS.
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A Roman legionnaire stands on a hill overlooking Jerusalem. He watches the city burn and proclaims proudly, "Judea capta est" Judea is destroyed. It will never rise again. Rome's rulers even decreed a change of name for Judea. Henceforth it would be named after the Philistines (or Palestine) and the Jewish connection would be obliterated forever.
Yet, like the legendary Phoenix, rising from the ashes of its own destruction, the new nation of Israel burst onto the international scene in 1948, with the lusty cry of a newborn infant, yearning to breathe free. Five Arab armies rushed to invade Israel and crush the life from the new Jewish State. With unbelievable bravery and heroism the new state survived. Six thousand of its young defenders gave their lives that Israel might live.
In blood and fire was Israel born, and on a hot anvil was she forged. Her youth understood that life in the new Jewish homeland would require sacrifice. With stories of burning flesh from the ovens of Auschwitz embedded deep in their psyches, the young Israeli soldiers fought with the firm conviction that there was "no alternative" (ein brera)....Bernard J. Shapiro (1992)
Song of the soldier
Apr. 26, 2009
STEWART WEISS , THE JERUSALEM POST
STEWART WEISS , THE JERUSALEM POST
Israeli Flag 'Every human being is a song, a serenade to God. The essence of who we are - like a song - comes from deep inside our soul and emerges as its own unique expression.
It has always amazed me how closely Yom Hazikaron, Remembrance Day, is interwoven with music. The radio plays somber and stirring pieces, instead of the usual frenetic fare, to help set the national mood. The memorial ceremonies held in each city are built around music, usually evocative ballads that speak of the mortality of life, of love lost and dreams unfulfilled. And after the ceremonies have concluded, the public is invited to stay for "songs of the fighters," as each division of the IDF - Golani, Givati, Nahal, the navy and air force - has its own particular soundtrack.
The soldiers themselves, I've noticed, have a special attraction to music. They sing as they march in formation, and they adopt favorite theme songs and jingles for their unit. When they have a free moment, and especially when they travel to or from their base, they invariably are "plugged in" to some kind of listening device, tuning into songs while they tune out the world. If, for the public at large, music represents a great escape from the hassles and hurriedness of an all-too imposing existence, then for the man or woman in uniform it is an even more vital tool to maintain their sanity.
Ari loved music, and would often use it to transport himself to a different universe, to a calmer, lighter place where there were no bullets, no commanding officers, no early-morning stakeouts with little food and even less sleep. I could literally see him transform, in just a few seconds, from gritty combat soldier in green to innocent kid in jeans as he listened to his favorite songs. The battles he fought - mostly against terrorists, who could appear at any moment out of any dark corner - were a million miles away when he put on those earphones.
Did the songs make any sense, or say anything meaningful? Who knows, or cares? That wasn't why he liked them so much. They were more a mantra of mindlessness, a portable sensory-deprivation chamber that took him out of the field of battle and into temporary serenity. And now, whenever one of those songs comes on the radio, we are frozen into immobility, and we connect to our beloved boy upon that mystical, musical plane.
AFTER ARI fell in battle, we felt an obligation to try to reach out to other bereaved families, and let them "spread the pain" to us, if that could somehow help. We would try to share what little wisdom we had gained from our own trauma, and tell them that life - albeit in a radically different form - would still go on. But I never expected to sing at a house of mourning.
I walked into the shiva house of an Ethiopian family whose son had been killed in the Second Lebanon War. As soon as the parents saw me, they rose from the floor and grabbed my arms, pulling me toward them.
"You have a kippa," they said excitedly, "you are religious!" "Yes," I answered.
"Then you must know the 'Shabbat song!' Please, please, sing it for us!" I had no clue as to what they meant, but they were insistent. "The 'Shabbat song,' the 'Shabbat song,' you have to know it; you have to sing it."
So I started to sing the songs we sing on Shabbat. I tried "Shalom Aleichem," the paean to the angels, but they shook their head, indicating that wasn't the song they wanted to hear. I tried "L'cha Dodi," and "Adon Olam," even the Kiddush, and still no response. But when I began to sing "Yah Ribon Olam" - "God, You are the master of the universe, the king of kings," their faces lit up and they literally jumped for joy.
"That's it, that's it!" they screamed. And then they explained.
"You see, we know very little about the Torah, or about the Jewish holidays. But when our son was in his unit, he very often stayed on his base for Shabbat, and he learned the songs from the other religious soldiers there. And when he would come home for Shabbat, he would sing to us this song, which was his favorite, and we would try our best to sing with him. But now" - and here they paused for a long time, as the tears flowed freely - "he will not come home any more for Shabbat. And so, who will teach us that song that he loved so much?"
And so we sat there and together sang, over and over, that most surreal of songs, trying to somehow connect to another place, another dimension where parents and children sing their songs together without a care in the world.
Maybe, just maybe, on the other side, a soldier was singing along with us.
For every soul is a song, a serenade to God.
The writer is director of the Jewish Outreach Center of Ra'anana; his son Staff-Sgt. Ari Weiss was killed in a raid on Hamas headquarters in Nablus in September 2002. In his memory, the Ohel Ari synagogue and learning center has been built in Ra'anana. jocmtv@netvision.net.il
This article can also be read at http://www.jpost.com /servlet/Satellite?cid=1239710794002&pagename=JPArticle%2FShowFull
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Israeli Memorial Day Begins Monday Evening
Iyar 3, 5769, 27 April 09 05:19
by Yehudah Lev Kay(IsraelNN.com) Israeli Memorial Day begins on Monday night and continues on Tuesday. The country’s Independence Day begins right afterwards on Tuesday night, and continues on Wednesday.
Memorial Day commemorates the 24,293 civilians and soldiers who lost their lives in the fight for the Israel's independence since the year 1860. Joining the list in the past year were 13 Israelis who died in Operation Cast Lead and 13-year old Shlomo Nativ, who was murdered by an Arab terrorist in Bay Ayin just two weeks ago.
The first state ceremony took place Monday afternoon at Ammunition Hill in Jerusalem with Prime Minister Binyamin Netanyahu, Supreme Court President Dorit Beinish, and the Chief Rabbis Yona Metzger and Shlomo Amar.
A siren will sound at 8:00 p.m. Monday night throughout the country, as Israelis stand for two minutes of silence. Immediately afterwards, the state ceremony begins at the Western Wall. President Shimon Peres, the prime minister and Chief of Staff Gabi Ashkenazi will be in attendance.
On Tuesday, Memorial Day continues and bereaved families traditionally visit the graves of their loved ones. A second siren sounds at 11:00 a.m.
The organization for IDF widows and orphans said on Monday that over 8,000 widows and orphans of slain IDF soldiers currently live in Israel. The oldest widow is 96, while the youngest is 18. In addition, 27 women became widows over the past year because their husbands were killed in IDF operations.
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