From Remembrance to Celebration

 

Yom HaZikaron is a day of remembrance, a day of stories. As each person on this trip has been building and deepening their own personal narrative with a multitude of rich and meaningful experiences, we have taken in the narratives of others to help us add to our own stories as well. The holocaust still fresh in our minds, we turned to refreshing stories of the heart, of heroes, of honey, of happiness. 

 

Now that I've set the stage, let me begin the story of Monday, May 1: 

 

We began our day with "the biggest love story in history." Students settled snugly into their seats, embraced, held, crowded by the walls adorned with cartoonish images of love, Hebrew calligraphy, Israeli puns, homemade cameras, graphic art critiquing the Holocaust. Sitting in the tiniest museum in the world (according to the Guinness Book of World Records) students were surrounded by Joseph Bau's creations. His daughters lovingly ushered us back to the Holocaust to learn about love. We heard how Bau was first an artist, but used this ability to become a spy, savior (read: document creator), and beacon of hope. Bau fell in love and got married in one of the most despondent times in Jewish history, his wedding documented at the end of Schindler's List. Both he and his wife, against all odds, survived, and he used his talents to spread his message—love conquers all—in a multitude of creative and fascinating ways. Our travelers were enthralled, peaceful, and inspired by this unique story, museum, and experience. 

 

We continued our own story of Yom HaZikaron as we boarded the bus, to be stopped about 20 minutes later to honor the soldiers who had fallen and the victims of violence. The loud sirens abruptly forced thoughts of remembrance into our minds for a whole minute of deafening silence. 

 

Back in the bus, we continued southward toward a kibbutz about a mile away from the Gaza Strip. Here we learned the story of soldiers who stepped up to hold off Egyptian forces in the battle of Israeli independence. The kibbutz families were able to hold off the Egyptians with their highly technical equipment and the vast majority of trained soldiers for five days. “How could this be?” our guide asked. "The spirit of the Jewish people? Their connection with the land? Their strategy? God?" Our students contemplated. “Perhaps all of the above...” the guide left the answer open ended. As we walked around the kibbutz, hearing about the details of this battle, we ambled up to tanks, statues, displays. 

 

One tank was left open, inviting our curious crew to enter, piling in to the absolute limit. Listening out the windows of this small tank we heard about how the children of the kibbutz, not much younger or older than our students, were quietly shuttled to a safer kibbutz during the day while the fighting was happening. "Why was this difficult?" our tour guide asked. Our students immediately knew the answer: "Because they had to be quiet!" The connection was palpable. While separated from their parents, the children were told that they were "practicing to be ready for the world" (i.e. fought the Egyptian army). When parents and children were reunited later, not all parents returned. Those whose parents were killed were told that they should be proud for their parents were heroes. 

 

We ended the tour with a dip into the present-day happenings of kibbutz Yad Mordechai. Honey. The students were full of genuine excitement over learning how bees live and make their honey, and this was before they knew they would get to try a sample of the honey produced by the bees on this kibbutz. They peppered our guide with questions, from how long a bee lives (4-6 months) to how much honey a bee creates in its lifetime (less than 1 teaspoon). If students were enthusiastic to see our guide don a bee suit (white clothing because bees do not see this) and interact with the bees, they were ecstatic to try and find the queen bee in a living display of a colony. 

 

We tucked away our taste of history and science, past and present, into our back pockets and breezed back to Tel Aviv to prepare our own story.

 

Shaving cream on the sidewalk. Silly string on the bench. Walking from the beach to Rabin Square the sidewalk became more densely packed with bright lights, inflatable blown up hammers, children swinging these hammers and playfully hitting everything in their paths. Once we entered the square, students immediately noticed the large Israeli flag projected onto then hotel behind a vivacious stage. They also noticed that this image was on a cycle with another image, the image of the number 69. They went off to explore in groups of two to three. Promptly meandering back to our meeting spot next to a long line of porta potties—purposefully impossible to miss—a student exclaimed "Ohhhhhhhh, 69 is theage Israel is turning!" Mumbled epiphanies followed. We walked home from the celebrations happy, content, proud, and hopeful.

Curtain.