Is Yom Hazikaron a good thing? This unusual question recently popped into my head while we were teaching our religious school students about the series of “Yom” holidays this month (Yom Hashoah, Yom Hazikaron, and Yom Ha’atzmaut). Yom Hashoah was easy for them to understand, if somewhat hard to relate to. Yom Ha’aztmaut, which we explained to them as the Israeli Fourth of July, was easy on both accounts. But where students had the most difficulty grasping any meaning was Yom Hazikaron. I tried explaining it as Israel’s Memorial Day but soon realized that this description was completely ineffectual to them: unless one has a family member in the Armed Services, Memorial Day, in America, has little civic meaning. Instead, it has devolved into little more than the last school holiday of the year and the pop cultural start of summer. This, in turn, led me to wonder: which Memorial Day would I rather have, Israel’s or America’s?
In Israel, war is a perpetual reality. Virtually everyone serves in the army. There have been six wars fought since 1948, with the first four (1948, 1956, 1967, and 1973) threatening Israel’s very existence. Even when it is not in formal war, Israel faces constant border skirmishes and rocket attacks from its hostile neighbors. And, perhaps most importantly, everyone has a relative or close friend who has perished in combat. Yom Hazikaron is marked in Israel with piercing air raid sirens, interrupting the evening and later the morning and bringing everyone together to commemorate the fallen. Ironically, for the generation I was teaching in religious school, America too has been in a perpetual state of war since 9/11. But because of our huge population, the remoteness of the armed conflict, and our strength compared to that of Afghanistan or Iraq, war for Americans lacks any existential resonance. We might worry about the financial impact of war and whether our troops are getting the PTSD (post-traumatic stress disorder) treatment they deserve, but we do not worry about whether America will be wiped off the map tomorrow. When Memorial Day was first proclaimed on May 6, 1868, by General John Logan, to honor dead soldiers in the aftermath of the Civil War, I imagine it did express a similar sense of somber uncertainty. But today Memorial Day means little more than permission to wear white pants until Labor Day.
So the more interesting question to me is this: which Memorial Day is preferable, from a meta-perspective? Yes, Memorial Day in Israel certainly means more, but is that a good thing? Or would we prefer for Israel to reach a state of power and stability that it no longer fears the threat of annihilation that Yom Hazikaron hints at? From a psychological standpoint, don’t we want our children to grow up without losing friends and family to armed combat? Assuming conscription remains necessary given Israel’s small size, wouldn’t we prefer to military service in Israel to feel more like military service in Switzerland–an exercise of vigilance rather than preparing for the inevitable loss of life in war? On the other hand, Yom Hazikaron takes on a sacred feel that Memorial Day does not. Do we want to risk losing this sense of kedusha, of holiness? Do we like what it signifies about the value of each human life; of dedication to an obligation bigger than oneself?
I am eager to hear your thoughts. And in the meantime, may each of us take some time today to pause and reflect about the ultimate sacrifice paid by so many Israelis to enable each of us to have a Jewish Homeland to enjoy and celebrate.
I was thinking today about a Memorial Day breakfast I attended a couple years ago at the home of a friend who happens to live along her town’s parade route. It was a sweet gathering of friends, enjoying the marching bands and town notables as they passed by. It felt patriotic in a low-key way, but it was not especially sad, in a memorial kind of way. I thought about that on this Memorial Day, as I made a point of watching ceremonies for the day on TV. For example, on watching the ceremony on the National Mall in Washington, DC, we were gripped by the testimony of a young widow whose story of constant and enduring loss was a shocking reminder of the personal cost of war. I felt sad, and also privately embarrassed for all of the Memorial Days gone by when I have failed to mark the seriousness of the day. As a memorial, it is about people, families and communities, after all. It is about the cost of war and all of its complexities. It is about America, and all its greatness and accomplishments, and its weaknesses and mistakes.
I have thought about the comparison between Memorial Day here in America and the parallel Yom Hazikaron (Day of Remembrance) in Israel. On that day, the sadness pulses through the air. The sirens that begin the evening of Yom Hazikaron sound at the same time throughout the country and everyone stops in their tracks to stand in silence in memory of those who gave their lives for the country. Memorial observances are widely attended, and the TV shows are suspended so that only memorials can be viewed. Shops and restaurants close – this is no day for fun. It is a day to honor memory and embrace one another in mutual support. The mood is appropriate for a Day of Remembrance.
It is not always so here in the suburban USA in which I live. The stores lure shoppers with grand sales; the beaches and pools are full with the start of the summer swimming season on Memorial Day. Backyard barbeques bring friends and neighbors together in a celebration of the season. But the “memorial” part of the day is little more than a distant idea. Even Memorial Day parades do little to capture the sadness of loss and the pain of war.
The truth is we are very separated from the current day experience of war unless we have a family member or friend who was lost. Few in my community have that connection. Most Americans live their daily lives happy to ignore the fact that our country has been at war for 10 years. We face our challenges of daily life, but we do not hold in our hearts those who are currently in the Armed Service, or their families, or those who were lost, or their families. We may hear news about a battle, an attack, a downed helicopter, or an ambush. But that seems so far away, like a distant reality that belongs to someone else.
That’s a far cry from the experience of Israelis for whom that reality belongs to everyone. True, Israel is a small country where most citizens have an obligation to serve in the army, and it has faced decades of war. The experience of loss is close and personal. The American experience of war is at a far greater distance in many ways and for all kinds of reasons. But our collective failure to feel the effects of war is not to our credit. Our failure to be engaged by the reality of war’s devastation enables us to be distant from the responsibility for the war itself. We don’t see it as “our” war.
Unlike the days of the Vietnam War when the newspapers and TV news were filled with stories and images from the front, our news is quite sanitized. When President Bush ruled that we were not to see the returning body bags and coffins from Iraq, a new stage was set. Grief would henceforth be personal and not communal.
America has lost more than 6400 human beings in the ten years of war since 9/11. Their families grieve in a darkened world. But we have lost more than the precious gift of their lives – we have lost the sense of shared responsibility and support that is a hallmark of a strong nation. Those who died for America deserve to be honored and grieved. Their families deserve to be supported and cared for by a compassionate nation that appreciates their sacrifice.
In respect for those who gave their lives, their limbs and their well being, let us not turn away. We owe them better.
…And to be clear, in the following analogy, Chase is the prostitute.
At a time when two-income families struggle to make ends-meet, 50% of Spanish young adults are unemployed, much of Europe is bucking austerity measures, and a generation closer to home questions the the financial value of higher education, I think it a timely service to provide a solution to very public multi-billion dollar losses: Very long tzitzit for Wall Street bankers (be they Jewish, non-Jewish, male or female).
Sure Chase can take the hit, but we’re talking about earning back the hearts and minds of the the 99% to boost back consumer confidence, so trust in big banks still matters. As a quick reminder, Tzitzit are the knotted dangling threads tied to each of the four corners of a garment (either on a prayer shawl, tallit, or often on the undergarment). The tzitzit are meant to remind a Jew of the 613 commandments enumerated in the Torah. A talmudic analogy is in order; this might take a moment, and to be clear, in the following analogy, Chase is the prostitute:
There was once a man who was meticulous in the observance of the mitzvah (commandment) of tzitzit. He heard that there was a prostitute in a faraway city who charged four hundred gold talents for her services. He sent her the exorbitant fee and set an appointed time to meet her. When he arrived at the appointed time … she prepared for him seven beds, one atop the other — six of silver and the highest one was made of gold. Six silver ladders led to the six silver beds, and a golden ladder led to the uppermost one. The prostitute unclothed herself and sat on the uppermost bed, and he, too, joined her. As he was disrobing, the four fringes of his tzitzit slapped him in his face. He immediately slid off the bed onto the floor, where he was quickly joined by the woman.
“I swear by the Roman Caesar,” the harlot exclaimed, “I will not leave you until you reveal to me what flaw you have found in me!”
“I swear,” the man replied, “that I have never seen a woman as beautiful as you. However, there is one mitzvah which we were commanded by our G‑d, and tzitzit is its name… Now the four tzitzit appeared to me as four witnesses, testifying to this truth.”
“I still will not leave you,” the prostitute said, “until you provide me with your name, the names of your city, rabbi and the school in which you study Torah.” He wrote down all the information and handed it to her.
The woman sold all of her possessions. A third of the money she gave to the government, a third she handed out to the poor, and the remaining third she took with her — along with the silver and gold beds — and she proceeded to the school which the man had named, the study hall of Rabbi Chiya.
“Rabbi,” she said to Rabbi Chiya, “I would like to convert.”
“Perhaps,” Rabbi Chiya responded, “You desire to convert because you have taken a liking to a student here?” The woman pulled out the piece of paper with the information and related to the rabbi the miracle which transpired with the tzitzit. “You may go and claim that which is rightfully yours,” the rabbi proclaimed.
She ended up marrying the man. Those very beds which she originally prepared for him illicitly, she now prepared for him lawfully. – Talmud Menachot 44a
Could We Imagine JP Morgan Chaste?
Some will argue that as long as Chase doesn’t need government money to cover its loss than it shouldn’t matter – investors understand the risks. But if that is so, than Chase shouldn’t have needed the practically free $55 billion loan from the Treasury to buy-out Bear Sterns or the $25 billion TARP money. If only Jamie Dimon, the CEO of JP Morgan Chase, and his Wall Street compatriots took the MBA Oath. Back in his time at Harvard’s Business School there was no need to make statements such as: “I will report the performance and risks of my enterprise accurately and honestly.” Instead it seems that many on Wall Street went to the same university as a past congregant of mine. Behind his desk the old high school dropout, who became a very successful hardware manufacturer proudly posted his diploma from Screw U.
If corporations such as Chase insist on being treated (when it suits them) as individuals (such as during campaign season), than when they break the trust of the public, they should do Teshuva (repent). The initial step in true repentance is refraining from the previous errors (this should be followed by contrition, confession before God, and a responsibility for future action). What already seems clear is that the stench from Chase’s recent $2-5 billion dollar loss is that it smells a lot like the security swaps that finally collapse the teetering world economy just a few years ago. Wall Street has learned nothing.
A Talmudic Solution to Chase’s Embarrassing, Cringeworthy, and Irresponsible $2 to 5 Billion Dollar Loss.
It would be nice to feel trust that Chase, and other banks, were not just waiting us out so that they could go back to their goal of world domination. I for one would feel reassured if all the Wall Street bankers would wear really long tzitzit to remind themselves not to screw us again. If that seems distasteful, perhaps too religious, let them take the route of the righteous prostitute in the story above. Let Chase take their total wealth (approx. $380 billion in total cash or cash equivalence) and distribute it as she did: One third to the government (for creating and then taking advantage of loopholes), one third to the poor (because ultimately, the profits made were on the backs of the 99%), and only then should they be allowed to keep the remaining third.