I’m writing this at the end of Yom Ha’atzma’ut evening, regretting the fact that I had a very unproductive day yesterday, and couldn’t settle to anything. Fortunately, I have a pretty good idea of the direction I want to go in this evening, or rather the directions I want to wander off in, so I’m hoping this will be one of those posts that virtually writes itself. [Blogger’s hindsight note: It wasn’t!]
In these difficult and challenging times, I hope I can bring you two or three rays of sunshine this week. First of all, I know that several of you were very concerned when you watched Micha’el’s YouTube video discussing his not yet having succeeded with his water pump. So, I’m glad to offer you a link to his latest video, where he seems to be in a better place, even if the objective situation has not changed dramatically. I hope it puts your mind at ease.
Next, the first of two surprises that I had today. Gaza’s Hamas-run Ministry of Health has revised down figures for the number of women and children confirmed killed in the conflict: the children from 14,500 to 7,797 and the women from 9,500 to 4,959. The revised totals first appeared on the website of the UN’s office for the coordination of humanitarian affairs (Ocha), The website was quick to state that the revised figures had been produced by the Hamas ministry and had not been verified by the UN. (I somehow don’t seem to remember the UN questioning Hamas’ original figures, before they were revised downward, but there you are.)
Today’s second surprise was the official ceremony marking the transition from yesterday’s Yom Hazikaron (the Remembrance Day for the Martyrs of Israel’s Wars and the Victims of Terror Attacks) to today’s Yom Ha’atzma’ut (Independence Day). In a normal year, this is a dramatic transition from grief to celebration. However, in a normal year, the transition seems in a sense natural, with the fallen being, in the powerful metaphor of Nathan Alterman, the silver salver on which the state of the Jews was given “to you”.
I believe I have mentioned previously that there has been a long-running public debate about how, and even whether, Yom Ha’atzma’ut should be marked this year. In the end, the traditional official ceremony was held, with several adjustments in light of the situation. One of the organisations representing the families of the hostages held an alternative ceremony near Binyamina at the same time. Where the central part of the official ceremony is the lighting of twelve beacons by figures each chosen to represent some aspect of the particular year’s theme, the alternative ceremony featured the extinguishing of eleven beacons and the lighting of one only, in honour of the abductees.
Bernice and I watched the official ceremony, as we always do, and I was, I confess, very impressed. The decision had been taken to record the ceremony in advance, with no audience, rather than, as is usually done, to stage it live in front of an invited and enthusiastic audience. The official reason given for this change was the security situation. My suspicion is that the actual reason was to avoid the potential embarrassment to the government of any disruption to the ceremony by protestors. Whatever the reason, the result was a more sombre atmosphere, which seemed very appropriate.
There were several other changes to the usual program. Normally, the first part of the ceremony, closing Yom Hazikaron, is fairly short. This year, it lasted over half an hour, and included the lighting of twelve beacons, each at a different one of the sites where the horrendous events of October 7 took place, and each commemorating one or more of those who were killed on that day. The lighters of the beacons were accompanied, in each site, by survivors and relatives of those killed, who stood in silence. This was a powerful set of images, which gave a sense of the scale of the pogrom on October 7. Bernice remarked that “we will never get over this”; I felt compelled to add: “but we will get through it.”
This section of the ceremony ended at Reim, the site of the Nova dance party. Then the cameras returned to Mt Herzl, where the main ceremony was being held, and the transition to Yom Ha’atma’ut began. This featured an excellent speech from the Speaker of the Knesset, stressing the need for national unity, and a recorded speech from the Prime Minister. This was followed by the beacon-lighting ceremony. Whereas normally only one person lights each beacon (or occasionally two people), each of the beacons this year was lit by three, four or five people. The theme this year was a collective representation of Israeli heroism, and, again, the beacon lighters were, unusually, each accompanied by a group of tens of colleagues from whatever branch they represented, be it first responders, police, hospital staff, defence-system developers, or whatever.
I must mention one of the many beacon-lighters. He is an IDF reservist who first enlisted as a 15-year-old and fought in the War of Independence. At the age of 96, he still serves in the reserves, speaking about the history and tradition of Tzahal. The clarity of his memory (he was one of the few beacon-lighters this evening to say his piece without referring to a written script) the strength of his voice and the straightness of his back were certainly an advert for the health benefits of military service!
The twelfth beacon was lit anonymously, off-camera, to represent the abductees.
In a normal year, this would have been followed by celebratory songs from popular soloists, and dancing, with the audience enthusiastically singing along and waving flags.. This section of this year’s ceremony was handled particularly well. The selection and arrangements of the songs was carefully designed to be more reflective and more minor key than usual. At the same time, a sense of transition from grief to thankfulness for the state we have was achieved by having hundreds of children from the displaced communities in the north and the south singing with the soloists, and offering musical accompaniment.
The formation marching by the army flag squads was much as usual, although, again, absent the wild enthusiasm and delight of a large crowd at the precision of their marching and their representation on the stage of such symbols as the flag, Magen David and menorah, there was an added dignity to the display that was more in keeping with this year’s events.
A decision had been taken to forgo the traditional firework display closing the ceremony, both because of the excessive celebration it would suggest and because of a fear of disturbing anyone suffering PTSD. (On a similar note, a meme doing the rounds offers the following exchange, to appreciate which you need to know that a siren sounds to mark a one-minute silence as Yom Hazikaron begins, and a two-minute silence at 11 AM the next day. Anyway, the exchange goes: “Where did the siren catch you?” “In the throat!” This is no less funny for being very true.)
In all, I felt that the entire ceremony struck the right balance for this very different year. We pray that, next Yom Ha’atzma’ut, we will be able to celebrate more traditionally, but, for this year, it seems to me that the day was marked very appropriately.