I was so disappointed.
So disappointed, for three days. Three long days of wondering how this could have happened. After all the struggles, all the periods of doubt and all the miraculous triumphs over the last 57 years, how could Yom Ha'atzma'ut (Israel's Independence Day) have degenerated into this, this day of emptiness?
I mean, really. Barbecues? Fireworks? We even saw a family crossing the street wearing American flag hats and shirts when we were driving up north on Yom Ha'atzma'ut itself.
Is that where this day has gone? We've become America?
It bothered me all day Thursday, continued on Friday and even went into Saturday. How could the people of this country, who had shown such depth the day before (Yom Hazikaron - Israel's Memorial Day), with two-minute long sirens to memorialize the soldiers killed protecting Israel, be so shallow just a day later?
I mean, it was ridiculous. Everywhere you looked, barbecues. Tents were set up along the highways. Kids running around all over the place, kicking soccer balls, eating hot dogs, drinking soda. The beaches along the Kinneret (Sea of Galilee) were packed with people having a grand time.
Bottom line: This country was clearly ignoring that this is the dawning of the age of Redemption.
I had said Hallel (Psalms of Praise) with a b'racha (blessing) on Yom Ha'atzma'ut for the first time in my life for this? I had expected big things. You have to understand, this was my very first Yom Ha'atzma'ut as an Israeli. How could it be? Where was the holiness? Where was the spirituality?
But then, I thought about it over Shabbat. And it hit me like a 2-by-4 across the forehead. And what had been so disturbing to me became inspiring. So inspiring.
Because how better to celebrate the miracles, the triumphs, and yes, the holiness of this Land, than to spread ourselves out across it and eat festive meals? To sit on our Land, under the stars, and watch fireworks light up the sky? How better to observe this day than to make sure children are playing and laughing as they enjoy the benefits of this great Land, promised to our forefathers?
And it was at that moment that I changed my colors. A barbecue on Yom Ha'atzma'ut is beautiful. It's incredible. It's spiritual. It's the ultimate celebration of this gift called Eretz Yisrael that HaShem has given us.
But then, I had one more thought. It took place Saturday night on the drive back to Jerusalem from the Galilee. I wondered how the hardcore Zionists in the United States celebrated their Yom Ha'atzma'ut this year. I'm sure they said Hallel, some with and some without a b'racha. Did they have barbecues also? Some almost certainly did. Did they dance? They probably did. Were their kids playing and laughing? Almost certainly. I even bet they had music playing in honor of the chag (holiday).
But for what? Where were they sitting while they ate their hot dogs? Where were their kids kicking that soccer ball? On what land were they dancing as they listened to that music?
And I thought, "My gosh, how empty it must feel for them."
So disappointed, for three days. Three long days of wondering how this could have happened. After all the struggles, all the periods of doubt and all the miraculous triumphs over the last 57 years, how could Yom Ha'atzma'ut (Israel's Independence Day) have degenerated into this, this day of emptiness?
I mean, really. Barbecues? Fireworks? We even saw a family crossing the street wearing American flag hats and shirts when we were driving up north on Yom Ha'atzma'ut itself.
Is that where this day has gone? We've become America?
It bothered me all day Thursday, continued on Friday and even went into Saturday. How could the people of this country, who had shown such depth the day before (Yom Hazikaron - Israel's Memorial Day), with two-minute long sirens to memorialize the soldiers killed protecting Israel, be so shallow just a day later?
I mean, it was ridiculous. Everywhere you looked, barbecues. Tents were set up along the highways. Kids running around all over the place, kicking soccer balls, eating hot dogs, drinking soda. The beaches along the Kinneret (Sea of Galilee) were packed with people having a grand time.
Bottom line: This country was clearly ignoring that this is the dawning of the age of Redemption.
I had said Hallel (Psalms of Praise) with a b'racha (blessing) on Yom Ha'atzma'ut for the first time in my life for this? I had expected big things. You have to understand, this was my very first Yom Ha'atzma'ut as an Israeli. How could it be? Where was the holiness? Where was the spirituality?
But then, I thought about it over Shabbat. And it hit me like a 2-by-4 across the forehead. And what had been so disturbing to me became inspiring. So inspiring.
Because how better to celebrate the miracles, the triumphs, and yes, the holiness of this Land, than to spread ourselves out across it and eat festive meals? To sit on our Land, under the stars, and watch fireworks light up the sky? How better to observe this day than to make sure children are playing and laughing as they enjoy the benefits of this great Land, promised to our forefathers?
And it was at that moment that I changed my colors. A barbecue on Yom Ha'atzma'ut is beautiful. It's incredible. It's spiritual. It's the ultimate celebration of this gift called Eretz Yisrael that HaShem has given us.
But then, I had one more thought. It took place Saturday night on the drive back to Jerusalem from the Galilee. I wondered how the hardcore Zionists in the United States celebrated their Yom Ha'atzma'ut this year. I'm sure they said Hallel, some with and some without a b'racha. Did they have barbecues also? Some almost certainly did. Did they dance? They probably did. Were their kids playing and laughing? Almost certainly. I even bet they had music playing in honor of the chag (holiday).
But for what? Where were they sitting while they ate their hot dogs? Where were their kids kicking that soccer ball? On what land were they dancing as they listened to that music?
And I thought, "My gosh, how empty it must feel for them."