טקס (Ceremony)
Yom Hazikaron Day
The afternoon was all about the Old City. I came to run a few errands, and while roaming the streets of the Shuk noticed that soldiers were at every turn. Then I stopped by the Kotel and found all kinds of security personnel, and the entire plaza closed off to prayer (the only way in was through the Western Wall Tunnel Tours). I realized that the ceremony was worth attending, so I got dinner near Ben Yehuda and came back to the Western Wall. I waited a good hour and a half before the ceremony, spending some of it chatting with a Catholic Texan on the way to conversion. I'll tell you, that was an experience. Soon the area filled up, as well as the reserved seats with soldiers, and before I knew it, the flag was being lowered, and the entire country was shutting itself down with the blast of the alarm. The President then spoke, then the Ramatcal (IDF Chief of Staff), and then there were prayers and hatikvah.
This is the worst effort I can make in explaining what happened, so these should help you feel it better.
Afterward, I followed the locals back to the Kotel, being one of the first to return to the scene. It was nice praying with soldiers, there was a greater sense of urgency. I then took a friend's suggestion and visited a lecture and bagel dinner (all free) with a soldier, but I quickly realized the soldier was really a chabadnik, and after sitting through him and his video saying Yom Hazikaron remembers those killed in terrorist attacks for no other reason than being Jewish, I left, disappointed with the ignorance of the orthodox and their disgraceful excuse for a bagel.
Tonight I got lost in an entirely unknown part of the Old City, the Jewish Quarter, the real Jewish Quarter, where everybody lives. I passed a harmonica player, trying to drown out the dark and lonely silence that had come to rest there. There was nobody out anywhere, except a few soldiers having private ceremonies. I found some Rothberg students and together we walked back to Ben Yehuda St., also eerily empty, to catch a bus back. The real day, though, had just begun.
Tuesday I took a school trip with a few others. Leaving Jerusalem, we spent the day exploring and discussing important strategic point along the route to Jerusalem, fought over during the War of Independence. We visited Har Adar (a play on its real name, radar), a hill that overlooked the area, which Israel (a few weeks before Israel) took over and then lost. Before we continued, we went down the mountain to the Palmach cemetery of Kiryat Anavim, for an official Memorial Day ceremony.
The Palmach were one of many separate Jewish brigades responsible for defending the territories before Israel's declaration of statehood. Until that time, The Jews and their makeshift malitia were battling the Arab equivalent: private volunteer armies. However, one Ben Gurion read the Declaration in Tel Aviv, basically overnight those private groups turned into Egypt, Syria, Jordan, even Libya, Yemen, and others, and their armies. Israel had to unite its forces or else, and these militia didn't like each other, but they had no choice. The Israel Defense Forces were established, and after nearly two full years of fighting (November 1947 until July 1949) the fighting ended for a little while. The Palmach, as well as the other groups, had little training, little equipment, and little experience. People were enlisted right off the boat, and often without even a rifle. Therefore, many were lost, and many were very young. The ceremony was much like the one from the night before at the Kotel, however afterwards we discussed the implications of its elements. First, there was a two minute siren heard nationwide. Then, a Rabbi in the army (harder to find because many religious Israeli's don't serve) read a memorial prayer, another said El Maley, and another said Kaddish. So far, the entire ceremony was purely religious, with the sirens being an idea taken from Japan but echoing the ancient Shofar blasts used for spreading important times across the country. However, it's important to recognize that not all soldiers are Jewish, and even more so, many, if not most Israelis are far from observant. Therefore, the next speaker was a government official, and a really important one at that. His name is Matan Vilnai, is the assistant Defense Minister, meaning he's got a lot of say in what goes on with the military. He spoke quickly, and then there was a ceremony of putting wreaths on the stage, followed by a 21 gun salute and Hatikvah. Therefore, the second half of the ceremony was national, and while the lines are blurred, there weren't any religious undertones to this segment,
After the ceremony, we got to hear a few words from Vilnai,
and then we headed to Kastel, another strategic point overlooking the road to Jerusalem, Sha'ar Hagai, known in Arabic as Bab el Waad, or in english the gate of the valley. Only through this narrow valley could you get to Jerusalem, and Arab forces who were stationed on the lookouts controlled the roads. The Jews therefore made a bypass road named Burma Road, and they also tried to get Kastel (and the other lookouts, which they failed to get until '67). The story of Kastel is very bloody. The Jews captured the Crusader fortress, but then the Arab legion returned. Interestingly, they were led by the Mufti of Jerusalem, al Husayni, who had been the national leader of the Arab forces, was killed when his troops came to recapture the sight. The Jewish Hagana retreated, but when they returned a little while later, they found it completely deserted, and recaptured it immediately. People believe the battle of Kastel lowered the moral of the Arab forces, because of the loss of their leader.
While at the fortress, one of our counselors told us a few stories about the army. He was in a special forces unit that would go deep into the Arab territories to find terrorists. He remembered being in Nablus and arresting a terrorist there, but before he did so the terrorist sent out his family from the house and then he ran out shooting. A few bullets flew right by the soldier's head. He said even from school, two people from his grade have died in terrorist attacks, and another in Gaza. When one tragedy hits, it affects a lot of people.
We took a long ride back to the dorms because of a car accident and everybody else returning from memorial services, but it allowed for some quality radio time, and all day every station plays slow and often nostalgic Israeli music. It sets the mood well.
I got back and wrote this much, before I found something else wonderful to listen to:
Yom Hazikaron Day
The afternoon was all about the Old City. I came to run a few errands, and while roaming the streets of the Shuk noticed that soldiers were at every turn. Then I stopped by the Kotel and found all kinds of security personnel, and the entire plaza closed off to prayer (the only way in was through the Western Wall Tunnel Tours). I realized that the ceremony was worth attending, so I got dinner near Ben Yehuda and came back to the Western Wall. I waited a good hour and a half before the ceremony, spending some of it chatting with a Catholic Texan on the way to conversion. I'll tell you, that was an experience. Soon the area filled up, as well as the reserved seats with soldiers, and before I knew it, the flag was being lowered, and the entire country was shutting itself down with the blast of the alarm. The President then spoke, then the Ramatcal (IDF Chief of Staff), and then there were prayers and hatikvah.
This is the worst effort I can make in explaining what happened, so these should help you feel it better.
Afterward, I followed the locals back to the Kotel, being one of the first to return to the scene. It was nice praying with soldiers, there was a greater sense of urgency. I then took a friend's suggestion and visited a lecture and bagel dinner (all free) with a soldier, but I quickly realized the soldier was really a chabadnik, and after sitting through him and his video saying Yom Hazikaron remembers those killed in terrorist attacks for no other reason than being Jewish, I left, disappointed with the ignorance of the orthodox and their disgraceful excuse for a bagel.
Tonight I got lost in an entirely unknown part of the Old City, the Jewish Quarter, the real Jewish Quarter, where everybody lives. I passed a harmonica player, trying to drown out the dark and lonely silence that had come to rest there. There was nobody out anywhere, except a few soldiers having private ceremonies. I found some Rothberg students and together we walked back to Ben Yehuda St., also eerily empty, to catch a bus back. The real day, though, had just begun.
Tuesday I took a school trip with a few others. Leaving Jerusalem, we spent the day exploring and discussing important strategic point along the route to Jerusalem, fought over during the War of Independence. We visited Har Adar (a play on its real name, radar), a hill that overlooked the area, which Israel (a few weeks before Israel) took over and then lost. Before we continued, we went down the mountain to the Palmach cemetery of Kiryat Anavim, for an official Memorial Day ceremony.
The Palmach were one of many separate Jewish brigades responsible for defending the territories before Israel's declaration of statehood. Until that time, The Jews and their makeshift malitia were battling the Arab equivalent: private volunteer armies. However, one Ben Gurion read the Declaration in Tel Aviv, basically overnight those private groups turned into Egypt, Syria, Jordan, even Libya, Yemen, and others, and their armies. Israel had to unite its forces or else, and these militia didn't like each other, but they had no choice. The Israel Defense Forces were established, and after nearly two full years of fighting (November 1947 until July 1949) the fighting ended for a little while. The Palmach, as well as the other groups, had little training, little equipment, and little experience. People were enlisted right off the boat, and often without even a rifle. Therefore, many were lost, and many were very young. The ceremony was much like the one from the night before at the Kotel, however afterwards we discussed the implications of its elements. First, there was a two minute siren heard nationwide. Then, a Rabbi in the army (harder to find because many religious Israeli's don't serve) read a memorial prayer, another said El Maley, and another said Kaddish. So far, the entire ceremony was purely religious, with the sirens being an idea taken from Japan but echoing the ancient Shofar blasts used for spreading important times across the country. However, it's important to recognize that not all soldiers are Jewish, and even more so, many, if not most Israelis are far from observant. Therefore, the next speaker was a government official, and a really important one at that. His name is Matan Vilnai, is the assistant Defense Minister, meaning he's got a lot of say in what goes on with the military. He spoke quickly, and then there was a ceremony of putting wreaths on the stage, followed by a 21 gun salute and Hatikvah. Therefore, the second half of the ceremony was national, and while the lines are blurred, there weren't any religious undertones to this segment,
After the ceremony, we got to hear a few words from Vilnai,
and then we headed to Kastel, another strategic point overlooking the road to Jerusalem, Sha'ar Hagai, known in Arabic as Bab el Waad, or in english the gate of the valley. Only through this narrow valley could you get to Jerusalem, and Arab forces who were stationed on the lookouts controlled the roads. The Jews therefore made a bypass road named Burma Road, and they also tried to get Kastel (and the other lookouts, which they failed to get until '67). The story of Kastel is very bloody. The Jews captured the Crusader fortress, but then the Arab legion returned. Interestingly, they were led by the Mufti of Jerusalem, al Husayni, who had been the national leader of the Arab forces, was killed when his troops came to recapture the sight. The Jewish Hagana retreated, but when they returned a little while later, they found it completely deserted, and recaptured it immediately. People believe the battle of Kastel lowered the moral of the Arab forces, because of the loss of their leader.
While at the fortress, one of our counselors told us a few stories about the army. He was in a special forces unit that would go deep into the Arab territories to find terrorists. He remembered being in Nablus and arresting a terrorist there, but before he did so the terrorist sent out his family from the house and then he ran out shooting. A few bullets flew right by the soldier's head. He said even from school, two people from his grade have died in terrorist attacks, and another in Gaza. When one tragedy hits, it affects a lot of people.
We took a long ride back to the dorms because of a car accident and everybody else returning from memorial services, but it allowed for some quality radio time, and all day every station plays slow and often nostalgic Israeli music. It sets the mood well.
I got back and wrote this much, before I found something else wonderful to listen to:
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