In this week of devastating news regarding the Supreme Court’s draft opinion to eviscerate Roe v. Wade, and the ongoing brutality in Ukraine, I want to share a hopeful vision. Please read on for a story of creating common ground from a place that may surprise you.
Last night and today, Thursday, May 5, 4 Iyar in the Jewish calendar, we mark Israel’s Independence Day, Yom Ha’atzma’ut. Beginning Tuesday night and through Wednesday, Israelis marked Memorial Day, Yom Hazikaron. Most Jewish Israelis will tell you that these two days are the High Holy Days of their calendar. The celebration of independence is intrinsically bound up with the intimate grief over family members who died for their country’s existence.
Imagine if we Americans observed Memorial Day with hearts in our throats, recalling those who died to defend our democracy. Imagine if Memorial Day was not simply about recalling events from a distant past, we told the stories of our own fathers, mothers, grandparents as part of that day.
Imagine if we held Memorial Day immediately prior to Independence Day. How would that visceral experience of the losses that accompany freedom change our country’s understanding of freedom? How might freedom itself be redefined, not simply as personal choice but as mutual obligation? What responsibilities might we embrace by linking our individual freedom with service to our country?
Now imagine if on Memorial Day we focused not only on the stories of soldiers who died defending America, but we also named and retold stories of those who died as victims of the establishment of these United States? What if our Memorial also brought the voices of the indigenous peoples who were decimated by disease, displacement, enslavement, and genocide? What if we heard the stories from relatives of enslaved Africans? How might those stories reshape our understanding of the price they paid for our country?
Is that kind of Memorial Day hard to imagine?
I witnessed that Memorial Day experience at a Yom Hazikaron ceremony livestreamed Tuesday evening to over 200,000 viewers, joining Israelis and Palestinians gathered in an auditorium in Tel Aviv and another auditorium in the West Bank. HBT was among 140 sponsors of this Joint Memorial Ceremony. I hope that our involvement not only brings us pride, but also educates and inspires us. In Arabic, Hebrew, and English, individuals told heart-wrenching stories of loss followed by moving expressions of compassion and desire for peace and justice for everyone in the conflict. Israeli and Palestinian musicians, including the Jerusalem Youth Choir, sang in all three languages, a living example of heartfelt connections between cultures.
Though you may not choose to watch the entire hour, I strongly urge you to set aside some time to dip into the recording of the ceremony. You will have the rare opportunity to hear Israelis and Palestinians share their grief with the express purpose of connecting, not condemning that is both heartbreaking and uplifting. Each story sheds light on the past while urging us not to be mired in its pain. Hearing all these voices opened my ears and my heart to the path forward.
There is no way forward to freedom without acknowledging pain. To truly commit ourselves to building a shared future, whether in Israel or in the U.S. we must feel our own pain and experience our own grief, without shame or denial. And we must also bear witness to the pain and grief of others so that we recognize that our common humanity present opportunity for visionary thinking.
Imagine how we might change and be changed by linking the joy of our celebration with an honest reckoning about how we got here. Oh yes—we know that experience. We do that every year at the seder when we reduce our cup of joy by spilling our wine in remembrance of spilled blood. We can come together in shared pain and promise. And we must.
Joint Memorial Ceremony is now up online: www.afcfp.org/memorial -