Caroline Frank a journalist from Perth, Australia is currently interning for the Jerusalem Post.
In the past three months I have had many opportunities to share my voice through my writing and paint Israel as the incredibly diverse, wonderful country she is. I have celebrated many Shabbats and chaggim (holidays) here with new friends from across the globe, although none were more awe-inspiring than this week’s commemoration and celebration of Yom Hazikaron and Yom Ha’atzmaut.
Growing up in Perth, Western Australia, I always found it strange to celebrate Israel’s independence immediately after the memorial day for fallen soldiers, but being in Medinat Yisrael, I realize it makes sense. We go from mourning and sorrow straight into dancing, fun and celebration, as we know our freedom and statehood comes at a great price, and the two are truly inseparable.
Our Yom Hazikaron was spent in Jerusalem remembering these fallen men and women, visiting their graves at Mount Herzl and finally joining 10,000 Masa participants in Latrun for a memorial ceremony. Natan Sharansky, chair of the Jewish Agency of Israel spoke and described us as one big family. I looked around and saw a sea of thousands, dressed in white. We are from South America, Canada, South Africa, Hungary, Greece, Italy, America, England, Turkey, Russia, Ukraine, Holland, Australia and countless other places yet it’s our faith, culture, heritage and Zionism which unites us as mishpacha (family).
On that balmy Sunday evening we remembered Nir Cohen, Uriel Bar Maimon, Julie Weiner, Phillip Mosko and Michael Levin – five fallen soldiers who touched the lives of all those around them. Testimonies of their lives were shared by their family and friends and each soldier’s story evoked deep sorrow, tears and heart-ache from all. As I approach my 25th birthday, I sat there thinking about those soldiers who never reached this milestone, who died so young to fight for Eretz Yisrael and I shed a tear for their memory.
On Monday evening, Israel marked its 66th year of independence. The entertainment was nothing like I ever experienced at my local community’s celebrations in Perth. I grew up where Yom Ha’atzmaut meant a uniform-free day at school where we could wear blue and white for a cold-coin donation to Magen David Adom in Israel. Yet there I was eight years later in Tel Aviv surrounded by a sea of blue and white, being hit in the head with a Magen-David adorned blow-up hammer.
The fireworks went off, music was played and everyone around me broke out in song and dance as performers entertained the sea of thousands. Arik Einstein’s Ani Ve’ata ricocheted across the open space, his lyrics “you and I can change the world” were sung in Hebrew by the masses. It was a bizarre yet wonderful transition from the mourning and sorrow just 24-hours before.
Groups of children played chasey, dousing one another in shaving cream and silly string. Fathers and mothers watched the screaming fireworks light up the sky with their young children balancing on their shoulders. Enveloped by the festive chaos, my hair covered in shaving cream, and donning my Israeli flag, I left Rabin Square at 1am. When I thought the party was over, the frenetic energy picked up on my walk home. Nearby, a dishevelled-looking man was playing the drums on a set of buckets and pots and pans to Israeli trance music and modern-Orthodox men pounded the streets singing for the Messiah.
They were sights I have never seen at home in Australia and was a blue and white balagan etched in my memory for life.
Am Yisrael Chai!
*Parts of this blog were originally published by Caroline in the Jerusalem Post
Read more of Caroline’s writing for the Jerusalem post by clicking below!