This is a very small country. So small, if fact, that it is listed as the 151st largest country in the world. You can drive from its northern most tip to its southern most point in 10 hours and you can drive from the eastern borders to the sea on the western borders in less that two hours.
This country is so small that every Jew living here is connected to every other Jew living here by less than six degrees of separation. And that is why, tonight, the entire State of Israel is distraught beyond consolation. Assaf Ramon z"l, the oldest child of Ilan Ramon z"l, Israel's only astronaut and a great hero himself, died in a so-far inexplicable crash of his F16 while on a training mission earlier today.
It's been six years since his hero father died when the Columbia space shuttle exploded unexpectedly during re-entry into the earth's atmosphere. It happened while many of us were observing Shabbat. When Shabbat ended, we did what we always do -- we all went to turn on our computers and see what news the weekend had brought. When we immediately saw the big black bold headlines, the collective Jewish population of Israel could have been knocked over by a feather. It was beyond comprehension.
Obviously we all didn't know Ilan Ramon personally, but in typical Israeli fashion, we all "knew" him. He was one of us and we were all so proud of him. He was a wonderful ambassador for our little piece of the world. The kind of Israeli we want to represent us to the unwelcoming world.
And then tonight, as two of my friends and I walked to our car in Jerusalem, one of the women received a call from her devastated teenage daughter telling her the awful news. And just like that it was six years ago again.
That's not entirely fair. Every Israeli soldier that dies in the line of duty affects a national outpouring of grief. Assaf is no different in that sense.
He is different in that after the devastating loss of his father, Israelis all celebrated his recent completion of the arduous 6-year, pilot training course as if he was our own son. His success assuaged our grief over the loss of his father and brought a sense of hope that his father's greatness would live on through him.
It was not to be.
So tonight, as many groups of young soldiers huddled around car radios listening to the repetitions of the news, we just walked to our car in stoic silence, an extended family trying to make sense of its grief.
May all our soldiers stay safe.
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