Life in Israel at this time can be likened to a rollercoaster ride. Not just the extreme and arduous uphill climbs with exhilarating views at the top which last for a microsecond before you come crashing down at breakneck speed, but the stomach punching curves and loop-de-loops as well.
The past few days have been just that: attending a funeral at house of mourning of a young soldier followed by a beautiful spring drive with the scenery of the rolling countryside and visit with friends. The day of Remembrance of Holocaust Victims. Being on a major highway when the two minute alarm sounds nationwide. All the cars come to a stop. The people get out. Everyone bows their head in honor and prayer for all those that were murdered in the Shoah and its Middle Eastern counterpart, the Farhud ( yes. It happened throughout the MidEast as well, just without concentration camps). We do not have a television (cable connection), but all the Israeli stations had memorial services and programs dedicated to that near genocide throughout the day last week.
The week following Yom ha Shaoah continues as normal, with the hustle and bustle of daily routine. The weather has been variable as well: blisteringly hot for a day or two followed by a day of heavy humidity, then surprise wind and thunderstorms, lightning and thunder and a half hour of intense pouring rain followed by sunshine. All to happen again.
On Sunday, the radio stations started playing soft, melancholy music again. Songs of love and loss; patriotic hymns; heartfelt Psalms that are all too real these days; songs of promised return of a loved one. Just after dark there is another two minute national siren and the entire country plunges into silence (well, almost the entire country). There are ceremonies to honor all those that have fallen, both in the military and also victims of terror. All day, the television spotlights those who gave their lives defending the country and its citizens, and of those citizens who were murdered by terrorism.
I had planned to go to a sunrise service in our city. It was a prayer and memorial service for the six soldiers in our community that were killed since 7 October. But just as I was leaving, the floodgates of heaven opened up and a torrential rain started that lasted over 40 minutes. It was as if the heavens were crying. Later that day I heard other news from Be’ersheva in the South – a true miracle. From Batsheva Nagel in Be’ersheva:
rsheva:
Unbelievable! On Friday there was a crazy sandstorm that lasted about five minutes. I was standing outside at the park with my three children and I remember thinking it’s gonna be a very windy Shabbos. We ran inside into our apartment, because sand and paper and leaves were just flying everywhere. But then it just stopped. It was really bizarre. Seemed out of the blue because it was such a nice sunny day and all of the moms were out with their kids taking a break. Be’er Sheva hasn’t had a siren in months and the parks were just full of kids. But this huge gust of wind, sand flying everywhere forced everybody back home. About 10 minutes later the red alert siren sounded. Five rockets launched at Be’er Sheva, one landing in a playground that had been full of children just 10 minutes earlier, causing massive damage. The random (HaShem) gust of wind saved all of our lives. We are surrounded by open miracles and the fact of HaShem’s ahava (love) and rachmones (mercy).
I read this on my WhatsApp group of women and my heart is boosted. It is a true miracle that no one was killed or hurt. A few apartments surrounding the park were mildly damaged by shrapnel. Yet the day is somber. There is no noise except for the booming of Hizbulla missiles landing a few miles to the North and IDF jets strafing the sky. Memorial Day is a national holiday where most people are off work. Everyone visits cemeteries to pay respects to those that have been “unalived.” This afternoon, the streets leading to our local cemetery are so packed and there is no parking, you have to walk for nearly a mile, then stand in line for quite awhile just to get it. People are milling about the front entrance. Reserve duty soldiers, both men and women, with their machine guns strapped to their backs. People carrying Israeli flags, teddy bears and other mementos to adorn the graves of the recently buried. The roller coaster is definitely headed downwards.
Coming back home, I ask friends and neighbors what the citywide schedule is for the next 24 hours. Israel, at sunset of Yom ha Zikkaron, Memorial Day, goes straight into Yom haAtzmaut, Independence Day. It’s the 76th anniversary of the State of Israel. Usually there are huge concerts. The biggest music stars and pop groups tour the country going from one city to the next putting on great performances. We usually enjoy 3-4 really great free shows in our local amphitheater that night. This year, there are no concerts. Especially now. No groups larger than 250 are supposed to be in public. No sitting duck targets. Just too risky.
This night is different from all other Independence Days. Usually we enjoy a rousing fireworks show, but due to PTSD and trauma, fireworks displays are now banned in Israel. There used to be great parties and celebrations. This year the night is still. No music blaring from peoples’ backyard parties. The next day, I again wake up to a silent day. Even though the children are off school, there is no loud laughing and playing as kids ride bikes and are running around outside. Many of our friends have expressed fear that on this day in particular, we will be attacked as it is Nakba Day (the Day of Disgrace) for the Muslim population.
John and I had planned fun backyard barbecues for friends on Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday. We’ve finally gotten the jungle under control, the flowers are all in bloom, and we’ve uncovered the grill and bought the meats and veg. I was busy making salads when we received the first message. The lovely new couple we just met recently (they’ve just moved here over the past year) are packing up and leaving. Back to the French countryside of Normandy where it is quieter and less risky. They gave their landlord notice, and will be out by this Thursday. Wow. That’s a shock. I hear from our neighbor that most of the regular Yom haAtzmaut activities the city sponsors are not happening. No parades. No block parties with street vendors. No huge activities for the children. Grilling and picnics in the local parks are all that’s going on. The excitement of the day has turned a sharp corner.
The rollercoaster car turns upside down when our friends from the Tel Aviv area decide not to come up. Everyone seems to want to be staying close to home. All people are talking about is the fact that the United States has cut off all arms shipments to Israel. We have been betrayed by our best friends. Individuals around the world are writing in of their support, but it seems to pale in comparison to Israeli’s despair. Will there be enough anti-missile missiles for our Iron Dome? Now that we have been thoroughly isolated, Will other countries perceive Israel as weak and vulnerable and attack us?
Prime Minister Netanyahu makes a speech to the nation saying that although the people of the US have been and will continue to be our friends, we are fully capable of defending ourselves. If we have to, we will go it alone. If the need ever arises we will fight with our fingernails. (Oy vey!) The UN decides to officially recognize Palestine as an official state. This is all a reward to Hamas to keep fighting. Th United States has declared through Gen. Miley and Secretary of State. Of State Blinken that we are not allowed to enter Rafah, the last Hamas stronghold. They say they have intelligence withheld unless there is a ceasefire. The Pentagon knows the whereabouts of Hamas leader Yahya Sinwar. He is not even in Rafah. The UN comes out with updated count of the number of civilians killed since the war started. It has been adjusted and is less than half of what was originally stated. There is no genocide….but the world no longer cares because they have already heard that over 18,000 children were killed and the rollercoaster lurches ahead faster.
As I am writing this (still excited to see some great friends at tomorrow’s planned barbecue), we can hear bombs falling from Hizbulla rocket launches. I get my red alerts on my phone and about 3 minutes later, there is a loud, low thud and the house rumbles a tiny bit. We go on with what we are doing. I’m writing this blog. My husband is on speaker phone going over financial planning with our son. “Did you hear that? Did you feel that? It was up in Meron. In Sasa. In Zion…that’s where the girl that makes my pottery lived.” We continue with our work.
Speaking with a neighbor yesterday, Gil said that those border towns are pretty much unrecognizable now. He has a son and daughter-in-law and their young family who lived up near Shlomi. He said they haven’t been able to get up to see if the house is even standing or in what condition because it’s an active military zone. They have been displaced for six months now, living at the hotel at Kibbutz Ginosar on Lake Kinneret (Sea of Galilee). Gil told us that about 80% of the homes are uninhabitable. The rocket barrages, anti-tank missiles and RPGs have destroyed the border villages with Lebanon.
We have our son’s Dean’s List ceremony next week, a friend’s daughter’s wedding the week after that. Then his graduation. Then a family reunion in Florida. We have a lot to look forward to. No more steep, sudden plunges please. No more unexpected turns. Let me off the rollercoaster for a while and put me on a beautiful carousel…
Israel Dreams 