They Are Us - We Are Them
I was in San Diego, California as the sun set this past Sunday evening, taking part in the local Jewish community’s commemoration of Yom Hazikaron – Israel’s Memorial Day. At a breathtaking bayside location, perhaps 1,000 people gathered for a particularly somber version of an always heartbreakingly somber event. On Yom Hazikaron we remember those whose lives have been lost in Israel’s defense, or those murdered at the hands of terrorists. The sheer numbers provide insight into the breadth of national tragedy – and for a country of fewer than 10 million people, we Americans need to multiply the number by roughly 35 to understand the comparable order of magnitude in US terms. More about that later.
Arrayed before the outdoor stage at Humphrey’s by the Bay were row upon row of white chairs. To the bay side stood a phalanx of young people, each holding a flag of the State of Israel.
On the opposite side were tables behind which were photographs of the victims of October 7 – not individual photographs, but posters which, in combination, showed all the faces of those who were slaughtered that day. Certainly not all of them – rather the dozens among them from the Sha’ar HaNegev Regional Council – a collection of 11 small communities and villages under a single municipality with which the Jewish community of San Diego has been linked in partnership for decades. Owing to the robust nature of that partnership – many of the victims, including the now former mayor of Sha’ar HaNegev, Ofir Libstein z’l, among those murdered that terrible day, were not only well known to many in San Diego – they were friends, even family. On the tables in front of these beautiful faces were candles, illuminated one-by-one in their memory by arriving members of the community.
The 75—minute program featured a combination of spoken, written and musical tributes throughout which a video slideshow featured the names, faces and ages of those who were the object of our tribute and remembrance – together with the date on which they were killed. Each sequence began with those whose lives were lost in the pre-State days of Jewish Palestine, but it was a lengthy montage. It was impossible not to be struck by the reality that more than half died on a common date – October 7. More than half.
The evening was a mixture of Hebrew and English. Letters, poetry and song. Some who read or presented came from Israel – from Sha’ar HaNegev – far from home, but in the warm embrace of extended family across the sea. Others were members of the mishlachat (delegation), mostly young Israelis doing a year of service between high school and the army, as emissaries of Israel in dozens of institutions and organizations across San Diego County. I couldn’t help but feel for them – having been so far from those they love on October 7 – each one had lost people close to them, at the Nova Festival, in their hometown or in uniform. How much more did they suffer from the way in which their country and their people have been vilified in so many places across the United States, including at UCSD and elsewhere in the community to which they came with a commitment to service and friendship? San Diego has among the largest delegations of these young people on the continent – a statement about this community – about Jewish community in general.
Prior to the close, three Jewish leaders made a brief appearance on stage – heads of the organizations responsible for gathering us together. Heidi Gantwerk, the CEO of the Jewish federation, Betzy Lynch, CEO of the JCC, and Noy Nehardea, Regional Manager of IAC (Israeli American Council). Neither they, nor their organizations received much notice or acclaim – and even their brief, poignant remarks were in no way about their roles or agencies. They appeared, side-by-side, and spoke about loss, memory, and peoplehood. No pecking order. No lanes. No self-promotion. Just a somber, sober, and sensitive expression of love and kinship. As they stepped back from the microphones, we rose to our feet for a moment of silence followed by the singing of Hatikvah – The Hope, the national anthem of the State of Israel and the Jewish people.
I couldn’t help but marvel. Not because it was a beautiful and moving tribute. And not because of how much it meant to be in remarkable company as I too mourned the losses of people I had known. But because, on this night, the Jewish community of San Diego did something altogether too unusual. It put purpose above promotion. Peoplehood above partisanship. On this most somber occasion, in this most somber year, my broken heart filled with pride.
Yom Hazikaron is the middle of three notable dates on the Jewish calendar which unfold during the course of just 9 days each spring. Yom Hashoah – Holocaust Remembrance Day – reminds us of the price of dependence and an absence of self-determination. Yom Hazikaron – reminds us of the ever-growing cost of that freedom and independence. And on Yom Haatzmaut – Independence Day – we’re reminded of the extraordinary privilege of being part of the Jewish world today – a world that includes the modern State of Israel.
I wrote these words on Yom Haatzmaut, the 76th anniversary of its founding, as I made my way back from San Diego, having caught up on the news at the gate before my flight. In Berkeley, CA – dozens of middle schoolers, led by their teachers, staged a walkout yesterday morning in support of Hamas, and on route to joining a larger protest against Israel and Jews at UC Berkeley, made a point of stopping to bring their expressions of hate to the grounds of the local Jewish community center. While in Israel, a civilian, Elad Fingerhut z’l, 38, and a father of three, was killed in a Hezbollah rocket attack and became the latest addition to the body count – the first name added to the roster of those we’ll remember on the next Yom Hazikaron.
I promised a little more about the numbers – so here it is.
· This year we mourned 25,040 servicemembers and 5,100 civilian victims of terror killed across Israel’s first 76 years. In US terms – a country with a population of roughly 35 times that of Israel, the equivalent numbers would be 876,400 and 178,000. In contrast, during the same period the US has mourned the loss of roughly 106,000 servicemembers and 3,500 victims of terror.
· In the 221 days since October 7 – 1,533 Israelis have been killed – 822 civilians and 716 servicemembers. Again, in US terms – the numbers would be nearly 29,000 civilians and just over 25,000 servicemembers.
It helps to think about the numbers in American terms to understand the depth and breadth of the tragedy and sacrifice borne by Israelis – the dead of course, but also the living – those who mourn them, and whose lives, whose families, whose communities have been dealt the cruelest of blows. As so beautifully reflected this week in San Diego – we share in their loss, and in their pain – as we share in their boundless strength, resilience and resolve. They are us. And we are them.
!עם ישראל חי / Am Yisrael Chai!