This story explains one of the ways that life in Israel is so very different from my old life in Canada. And I suspect that the same could be said for how different it is from life in the US and the rest of the Western World. I won't bother speculating on the remainder of the world, because I don't profess to understand anything about their ways which totally baffle me.
Friday morning I unexpectedly found myself on a fund-raising walk with my Chief of Ideas and Planning (Yael) in memory of a British-born, Israeli soldier who was killed in the Second Lebanon War. His name was Benji Hillman and his parents live somewhere in my neighbourhood although I don't think I actually know them or would recognize them. He was 27 years old, three-weeks married and an officer.
The Second Lebanon War, as most of you know, was probably the biggest military fiasco in modern Israeli history. Benji was one of its heroes. So much so that when he died it was impossible to drive on the main thoroughfares of Ra'anana because there were so many people walking in his funeral procession to the military cemetery.
Here we are three years later and his family is raising money to build a home for soldiers who come to Israel of their own volition, to volunteer in the IDF and in turn, to protect the Jewish people. They come from all over -- Canada, the US, France, Russia, and other places. And they leave everything and everyone behind to serve the greater Jewish good.
As I looked around at the crowd gathered to participate in the fund-raising walk I was reminded once again of things that I generally prefer not to think about.
First, every Israeli soldier killed in the service of his country feels like your own son. Each death, whether you know the kid or not -- and trust me, they are kids -- cuts to the core of your being and involuntary provokes you to pray (even beg) God to spare your child and the children of others, when their turns come.
Second, the army is the one thing that makes many of us hesitate about making aliyah. There is really no way to avoid conscription without perpetrating a major life cop-out. Oh, some Israelis do it. They say they are pacifists (most aren't), they fake illnesses (yes, fake them), and they say they are too religious to participate (that whole argument makes me so sick that I don't want to digress into the malestrom of that discussion).
However, most immigrant children do their national service. They came here knowing the importance of a Jewish state. Fortunately most soldiers get through the three-year commitment intact. And for that, we are all forever grateful. But then, there are some who don't. And that lies at the heart of our greatest life fear.
Third, almost every Israeli family has a story. Someone close to them has died in the on-going battle to protect our tiny slice of land and freedom. The country is only 61 years old which means that most living Israelis have lost someone in one of Israel's existential wars -- they are all existential wars here.
But for us immigrants it is an entirely new experience. That may be why the bulk of the walk participants are immigrants. It's not that the native-born Israelis don't care, but rather that they have lived with this awful reality always. We immigrants are trying to cope and understand something that is truly beyond comprehension. The price is just too great.
The saddest irony of the day was that while we were walking one of my friends was at the funeral of a Canadian-immigrant soldier who had died the day before in a battle against Hamas.
Everyone of us who still has children too young to go to the army tries to convince themselves that by the time their child is drafted there will be peace. We all know that that isn't true, but we try to tell ourselves that it could happen. Of course, pigs could fly and hell could freeze over as well. All those possibilities are equally likely.
And while we wait for the totally unrealistic arrival of peace, we all continue to walk in walks, raise money for activities that commemorate the brave young men who paid the ultimate price and pray for a better day so that no more Benjis will die for us.
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