The senseless and heartless expulsion of Jews from their homes has impacted the Jews who love this land dearly in a very harsh way. We approach the upcoming celebrations of Yom HaAtzmaut (Israel's Independence Day) with hearts overlaid with minefields. We have not lost the awe of being witness to G-d's miracles every day in this incredible land, yet we have been sorely disappointed by many of our brothers. We have not lost the stirring of our hearts when we see piece after piece of the Divine puzzle falling into place, yet we are saddened by the hardening of the hearts of so many around us.
I cannot help but be joyful upon realizing that for some strange reason I have merited to be one of the "words" G-d is using to write the last chapters of the Bible. When I read what the prophet Zechariah said (Zechariah 8:4-5) - "Thus saith HaShem Tz'vakot: 'There shall yet be old men and old women sitting in the broad places of Jerusalem, every man with his staff in his hand for very age. And the streets of the city shall be full of boys and girls playing in the broad places thereof.'" - I cannot help but wonder if some of the boys and girls Zechariah saw in his vision were not my very own children. With all that in mind, I will be celebrating on this Yom HaAtzmaut regardless of the plans of this government. I will be reciting the Hallel (psalms of praise) prayer with a full heart of thankfulness for the cup that is not yet full, but is far from empty.
In this country, at the center of the spiritual universe, even small decisions seem to carry such important cosmic weight. Every Yom HaAtzmaut I proudly attach a large flag on my balcony and attach my Israeli flag to my car. I have always felt it important to wave that flag in the neighborhood where I live, where so many of my neighbors act as if there is no state of Israel, and in the Old City where I work, where so many of my neighbors would like to ensure that there will be no state of Israel.
That flag has represented for me one of the clear miracles G-d has brought forth in this generation.
The expulsion of the Jews of Gush Katif and Samaria and the battering of the young Jews of Amona have not dimmed my appreciation for the flag of Israel and what it stirs in my heart. I am still moved by the famous picture of those young Jews recently released from Buchenwald, some still wearing their concentration camp uniforms, looking with yearning towards an uncertain future with an Israeli flag billowing behind them. My heart still stirs with the vision of Israeli paratroopers attaching a handmade Israeli flag over the Temple Mount in 1967. I still brush away a tear when I see the movie version of the Israeli flag unfurled on the Exodus boat attempting to break the British blockade of the land of Israel.
It is painfully clear to me, though, that there is a large segment of Israel's population that does not conjure up the same images. The Israeli flag reminds them of the Israeli team winning the European cup in basketball. Others may reminisce of Israel winning the Eurovision song contest with some "wannabee " Israeli performers holding cute little Israeli flags. Even worse, others may connect to the little Israeli flags sewn on to the uniforms of the soldiers sent in to expel their fellow Jews.
I watch the new Israeli government being formed along lines of retreat, hatred and disregard for this people's history and vision, and I wonder where my place will be during these festivities. I watch television reports of our Arab neighbors burning the Israeli flag in frenzied demonstrations and then watch members of my upcoming government sullying the flag with small-minded and self-serving arguments about power and prestige.
I truly don't want the flag waving on my car to somehow mirror the aspirations and fantasies of so many others with the same flag; so, this year I avoided attaching my flag.
Last week, I went with members of my family to visit some of the expelled Jews from Gush Katif who had begun to carve out a future in Amatsia, in the Lachish region. During their protracted and difficult stay in the hotels of Jerusalem, we had established deep friendships with some of these families. Towards the end of the visit, we were invited to return during the Independence Day holiday for a large happening that is being planned in their new location. I asked if planning such an event was difficult for them.
I was immediately castigated by these people who never lose hope. They firmly declared that the celebrations of Yom HaAtzmaut have nothing to do with the 120 members of the Israeli parliament. These celebrations are about G-d's miracles and the anticipation of the continuation of the ongoing miraculous process of redemption.
My dilemma was solved when I found, in the back of my car, a tattered flag with an orange ribbon attached to it. This was the flag that I had used driving to Kfar Maimon. It was the one that was flying from my car when we went down to S'derot and Ofakim for the large demonstrations. It was also the flag that I flew when we were trying to avoid police blockades and get to the Gamma Junction, in an attempt to interfere with the expulsion.
This tattered flag was the one that would express my feelings this year. The flag was dirty and torn, but it would fly proudly - with a bright orange ribbon affixed securely. The perfect metaphor for the state of our people on this 58th Independence Day.
I cannot help but be joyful upon realizing that for some strange reason I have merited to be one of the "words" G-d is using to write the last chapters of the Bible. When I read what the prophet Zechariah said (Zechariah 8:4-5) - "Thus saith HaShem Tz'vakot: 'There shall yet be old men and old women sitting in the broad places of Jerusalem, every man with his staff in his hand for very age. And the streets of the city shall be full of boys and girls playing in the broad places thereof.'" - I cannot help but wonder if some of the boys and girls Zechariah saw in his vision were not my very own children. With all that in mind, I will be celebrating on this Yom HaAtzmaut regardless of the plans of this government. I will be reciting the Hallel (psalms of praise) prayer with a full heart of thankfulness for the cup that is not yet full, but is far from empty.
In this country, at the center of the spiritual universe, even small decisions seem to carry such important cosmic weight. Every Yom HaAtzmaut I proudly attach a large flag on my balcony and attach my Israeli flag to my car. I have always felt it important to wave that flag in the neighborhood where I live, where so many of my neighbors act as if there is no state of Israel, and in the Old City where I work, where so many of my neighbors would like to ensure that there will be no state of Israel.
That flag has represented for me one of the clear miracles G-d has brought forth in this generation.
The expulsion of the Jews of Gush Katif and Samaria and the battering of the young Jews of Amona have not dimmed my appreciation for the flag of Israel and what it stirs in my heart. I am still moved by the famous picture of those young Jews recently released from Buchenwald, some still wearing their concentration camp uniforms, looking with yearning towards an uncertain future with an Israeli flag billowing behind them. My heart still stirs with the vision of Israeli paratroopers attaching a handmade Israeli flag over the Temple Mount in 1967. I still brush away a tear when I see the movie version of the Israeli flag unfurled on the Exodus boat attempting to break the British blockade of the land of Israel.
It is painfully clear to me, though, that there is a large segment of Israel's population that does not conjure up the same images. The Israeli flag reminds them of the Israeli team winning the European cup in basketball. Others may reminisce of Israel winning the Eurovision song contest with some "wannabee " Israeli performers holding cute little Israeli flags. Even worse, others may connect to the little Israeli flags sewn on to the uniforms of the soldiers sent in to expel their fellow Jews.
I watch the new Israeli government being formed along lines of retreat, hatred and disregard for this people's history and vision, and I wonder where my place will be during these festivities. I watch television reports of our Arab neighbors burning the Israeli flag in frenzied demonstrations and then watch members of my upcoming government sullying the flag with small-minded and self-serving arguments about power and prestige.
I truly don't want the flag waving on my car to somehow mirror the aspirations and fantasies of so many others with the same flag; so, this year I avoided attaching my flag.
Last week, I went with members of my family to visit some of the expelled Jews from Gush Katif who had begun to carve out a future in Amatsia, in the Lachish region. During their protracted and difficult stay in the hotels of Jerusalem, we had established deep friendships with some of these families. Towards the end of the visit, we were invited to return during the Independence Day holiday for a large happening that is being planned in their new location. I asked if planning such an event was difficult for them.
I was immediately castigated by these people who never lose hope. They firmly declared that the celebrations of Yom HaAtzmaut have nothing to do with the 120 members of the Israeli parliament. These celebrations are about G-d's miracles and the anticipation of the continuation of the ongoing miraculous process of redemption.
My dilemma was solved when I found, in the back of my car, a tattered flag with an orange ribbon attached to it. This was the flag that I had used driving to Kfar Maimon. It was the one that was flying from my car when we went down to S'derot and Ofakim for the large demonstrations. It was also the flag that I flew when we were trying to avoid police blockades and get to the Gamma Junction, in an attempt to interfere with the expulsion.
This tattered flag was the one that would express my feelings this year. The flag was dirty and torn, but it would fly proudly - with a bright orange ribbon affixed securely. The perfect metaphor for the state of our people on this 58th Independence Day.