Immemorial thoughts

Yesterday, in accordance with Israeli’s unique way of scheduling it right before Independence Day, Memorial Day for Fallen soldiers was marked in Israel. On this day, families visit cemeteries.  As in many countries, the media broadcast stories about fallen heroes and their families while a siren is sounded twice, once on the eve and once in the morning of the day. Stores close early on the eve with “heavy” music broadcast on radio all day long. The names of the fallen in chronical order of their death are read throughout the 24 hours.  Unfortunately, they are sufficient names to recite to fill the entire period.  All in all, it is a heavy, sad day broken at the end by the changing of the guard ceremony at the Knesset, which signals the beginning of Independence Day and time to light up the barbeques.

Yet, to a certain degree, I feel alien to this Memorial Day. I simply have no experience with death by fire in any form.  My father, still alive, survived World War II with no permanent injuries. My brother and I reached 18 after the Vietnam War and mandatory draft in the United States ended. I don’t know any one that was killed or wounded in military service, either in the United States or Israel. My daughter never served in the IDF.  The only deaths I have experienced at all were my grandmothers, who were quite aged, in their 80’s and 90’s.  I am still a virgin to bereavement. 

By contrast, most Israelis know what death is. They have had friends and family killed or wounded during military service or terrorist incidents.  My wife had a brother killed in service when she was a small child. Memorial Day carries significance to most Israelis, except for a few extra ultra-orthodox that do not consider themselves Israeli in any case.

I do not mean that I feel no emotion.  As I watch parents, children and siblings talk about their loss, I become very sad. Tear well up. I also sense the heavy atmosphere. Memorial Day is not like any other day. It has its own weight. Yet, to be honest, my sympathy is of the universal type, the feeling we can share for anybody that has lost a loved one, regardless of the circumstances.  Any decent human being can understand lost and empathize with an individual experiencing that loss.  Yet, I cannot imagine the pain of parents that must bury their own children.  It is clearly awful but beyond my comprehension.

Some would say that I should be grateful for being so fortunate as to have never experienced such pain. The fact is that my naivety results from pure luck. I was born after World War II and was too young for the Vietnam War and too old for IDF service. Neither I nor my family has ever been in the wrong place and time during my 28 years in Israel, including the rocket attacks on Karmiel during the Second Lebanese War.  As in all matters of luck, the past does not guarantee the future.  Still, at least for the present, all I can do is respect and empathize with those whose parents, children and siblings have paid the ultimate price for Israeli independence. For better or worse, I cannot identify with them. My hope is that in a generation or two, my experience will become the rule, not the exception, in Israel and the entire Middle East.

Independently rough and wooly

Israel just celebrated its 69^th Independence Day. Its beginning, as usual, was marked by a ceremony in Jerusalem starting at the end of Memorial Day (the day before) leading to the kickoff of the celebrations, from sad to joy in slightly more than an hour. I have been in Israel some 28 years and never fail to watch the ceremony on television. Honestly, it lacks the smoothness and elegance of state ceremonies in more established states. However, specifically due to its multitextural and honest nature, it faithfully represents all this good in Israel.

For those that have never watched it. It fitting takes place on Mount Herzl, named after the ideological founder of Zionism. The VIP’s (the Prime Minister, President, Chairperson of Knesset and Chief of Staff) are led to their seats and give permission to the ceremony to start. At that time, a small group of IDF flag bearers march around the square. To be honest, the marching is acceptable but would probably not pass the standards of a marine sergeant. Yet, I do not regret this lack of show as it is product of the IDF emphasis on combat performance not parade performance. A video of a short statement by the Prime Minister, Bibi, as he not so affectionately called, was then shown. It resembled election campaign material. This is natural as elections are always potentially around the corner here. A musical interlude followed, consisting of a short reading of a prayer followed by its musical rendition by a mass of purple-illuminated pianos, a duo of religion and art if you will. The Chairperson of the Knesset then gave his speech. It warned Israel (and the government) of the dangers of dividing the people, a rather critical statement at what is supposed to be an orchestrated state ceremony. However, in Israel, when you have two Jews, you have three opinions.  We still have democracy.

Then began a curious part of the ceremony, 12 people received the honor to light a flame (one for each tribe of Israel) with the theme being a united Jewish Jerusalem. It is always good politics to stand up to UNESCO and be in line with the ideology of the current government. The choice of the people was rather interesting, ranging from writers and teachers to soldiers and immigrants, including an Arab and a merchant at the famous Jerusalem open market. This wide variety of honorees reflects the diversity of Israel and goes beyond the traditional elite presented in state ceremonies. The soldiers accompanying the honorees were of all shapes, sizes and colors. Not all of them managed to maintain their dignity but that is typical of this country and its Mediterranean nature.

Music of various styles followed, including Naomi’s Shemer’s Yerusalem shel zahav (Jerusalem of Gold), the classic song about Jerusalem. Finally, flag bearers of all IDF units, wearing a cacophony of uniforms marched, creating a series of formations, joined frantically by the soldiers that would be awarded by the President the following day. Oh, how much I love the Israeli sense of order. The ceremony ended with the weary flag bearers and musicians marching off the stage and the release of the fireworks.

While I admit that it lacks the dignity and form of the French Bastille Day ceremony, the Israeli state ceremony provides a short focus on what is fundamentally good and important for Israelis. This list includes diversity, democracy, faith, achievement and, foremost, the joy of having our own country. As they say (albeit in a different context), next year in Jerusalem.

Holy academic scheduling

I have been an English lecturer at Ort Braude for over 25 years.  One aspect of academic life in Israel that is unique to the country and very peculiar is the schedule of non-classes in the second semester. 

To explain, as in the United States, each semester has 14 weeks. An additional factor is that the Jewish calendar, which determines the actual date of the religious holidays, is based on the moon, which means that an extra month, Adar B, is frequently added to keep it in line with the solar year. This means that their dates vary from year to year but within a certain range.

The first semester begins after Sukkot. In practice, that means any time from the end of September to latter part of October. Once the semester begins, it lasts 14 consecutive weeks with no holidays except for maybe one day for Hanukah (some institutions give more).

Alas, the second semester is a matter of occasional study between days off.  To illustrate, this year, it began on March 6.  Students got one day off for Purim on March 24, two and half weeks later. They actually have to study another almost four weeks until Pesach, which lasts from April 22-29. Immediately after readjusting to academic life for not even a week, they get a late afternoon off, on May 4, for Holocaust Memorial Day. Not to worry, one week later, there are no classes, from the late afternoon on May 10th for Memorial Day straight through to the 12^th, for Independence Day.  This break is followed by two actual weeks of study, until, no kidding, Students Day, from noon of May 25^th to noon of the 26^th. By this time, even the students want to get some learning in. There is a limit on how much you can eat. Yet, on June 12, the students can catch up on homework on Shavuot. There are no more holidays or days off until June 20^th, the end of the semester, unless they are sick or called up for reserve duty.  

I should clarify that the plethora of holidays is not the fault of the management and is applicable all over the country.  It should be noted, to nobody’s surprise, that the vast majority students appreciate the extra time, especially at an engineering college.

If you are wondering how the faculty can actually teach anything, the management has calculated 14 full weeks of study here. It is undoubtedly true but who can count with so many holes?

Memorially Different

One of the effects of being an expatriate is perspective on how certain occasions are marked and celebrated.  A good example is Memorial Day, however it is called.  Universally, it is intended to remember the soldiers, sailors and pilots that died for the country.  In practice, it is marked by distinctly different customs.

In Israel, the date of remembrance of fallen soldiers is symbolically the day before Independence Day. It is clearly a day of mourning with all the incumbent symbols.  People visit cemeteries where ceremonies are conducted. Starting from eve before, the name of each fallen warrior is recited as well as his/her date of death.  The TV broadcasts programs about various brave young men and women that gave their lives for their country.  The radio plays “quiet” (and beautiful) music. There is a siren and moment of standing silence on the eve and in the morning of the Israeli Remembrance Day.  Then, rather peculiarly or maybe poetically, as the end of the day approaches, the TV broadcasts the exchanging of the flags at the Knesset (annual changing of the guards from military unit to military unit). At the end of this ceremony, there are suddenly fireworks: Independence Day has begun.  Everybody can be happy now.  Of course, for some, that is not such an easy task, but Israel, in following its Jewish roots, imposes joy as an antidote for endless mourning.  Israeli Remembrance Day is truly a day of remembering.

By contrast, in most of the United States, it mainly marks the beginning of the summer. In military towns in the United States, such as San Diego and Norfolk to name just two, Memorial Days is marked by official military ceremonies.  However, for most people, it is a long weekend.  (By law, it must fall on either a Friday or Monday, which says something about the United States).  People go on trips, to baseball games or shopping. People smile and laugh, but not necessarily from disrespect. The number of WWII vets is very small today.  The Korean conflict was more than 65 years ago.  Even the Vietnam War is already a distant time some 40 years ago.  Several thousand American soldiers have died in the latest batch of Middle Eastern operations but, alas, it only directly affects a small number of families.  My feeling that most of the United States has little sense of loss, leaving most Americans with the feeling that Memorial Day is a fun holiday.  Have a good time.

Lest you think that I find that entirely wrong, Israeli would be a happier, albeit different, place if there were no names to recite on Remembrance Day.  Yet, like a resident of any small town in Europe looking at the long list of fallen soldiers from World War I located in the corner of every church, it reinforces for me how terrible but sometimes necessary war can be.

I would be interested in hearing on how Memorial Days is marked in other countries.