I’d like to thank all those who took time to deliberate my deliberation and ponder my conundrum. The very fact that you took the time and effort, and rose to the challenge of this exercise is amazing. That you shared these thoughts and opinions, to me, was incredibly supportive and emotional.
I tried on your words like articles of clothing. I enveloped myself in your ideas. I wanted to see which ones were a good fit… which might be the best fit. I eventually realized that they all fit, and even if they needed minor readjustments, I would still need to make a choice between this “look” or that one.
I made my choice to go with the “locals” – (a choice made easier as the “Phoenix” option filled its ranks and had me on standby.)
We are a group of 35 ex-combat-reservists, ranging in age from 35 to 60, who live in the city and volunteered to reenlist. By doing so, we are no longer volunteers, drafted by law like all other reservists.
On a practical level, we daily bolster the city’s depleted standard security force (as many of them are drafted), and provide a formidable combat force should the city come under attack.
On a psychological level, we are here to put people’s minds at ease. Physical, and mental health and security must be maintained.
For example: there is always a municipal security presence at the city’s entrances. As civilians, we see them as service providers, and we do not have any particular feelings about their presence. However, when you drive into the city today, those same municipal security people are still providing the same service, but the residents’ eyes notice the change. There is an IDF soldier in uniform standing on guard as well. When Israelis see a green uniform, there is an emotional reaction. A visceral change. Every soldier is our collective son, daughter, husband and father. They are the force trusted over any other in the country. Before I joined, I lit up when seeing these soldiers as I drove home, and now that I have done many hours on duty, I can say with clarity that everybody reacts thus. They smile. They roll the window down and take a moment to thank us. As such, they then also recognize the “regular” security and thank them as well.
Another “mission”: we patrol the various kindergartens over the course of the day. The kids are electrified! They have been seeing soldiers walk into their playgrounds, six times a day for the past four weeks. And every single time the excitement is tremendous. “Chayal!” “Soldier!” they point and shout. If not for the war, the standard security personnel do the same rounds. And yet, when the staff and kids see a soldier… every five-year-old sees in us their own father, uncle, brother. “I’m a soldier too!” they proclaim as they salute.
Now, I have a soft spot for kids when I walk into kindergarten. I always have. I end up drawing pictures for them, talking to them, playing… I’ve received more high-fives in the past week than in the past decade!
One kindergarten staff person is even more energetic than the kids are. Every time we walk in, she greets us in song: “Am Yisrael Chai!” The kids know the routine (see video). Honestly, she has Pavlovian-conditioned them! After school, one of the kids saw me outside and burst into song. His mom could not understand why her son was suddenly overcome with the urge to sing loudly… (I kindly explained, although I was tempted to leave it as a mystery….)
------------------------------------------------
It is Friday, 2:00 PM. In two hours, the hostage exchange will take place. Ha! How is the world so blind? How is it that the world sees this as an exchange? A civilian for a militant?! A truly innocent child for a child who stabbed a Jew?! A person abducted from their home for a captured convicted terrorist…?!
I remember the day of the “Shalit” deal. Israel released 1000 terrorists for Gilad Shalit. I’m not going to write about the fact that Hamas’ future leader was released then… nor of the arguments for and against that deal, nor this one.
I want to talk about emotions.
I remember my neighbor telling me about her ELATION. One hundred percent JOY. And at the same time, her feelings of HORROR and trepidation. One hundred percent WEIGHTINESS.
I feel the same today.
To say that we feel a mix of emotions just doesn’t capture the moment nor the feelings. I know what it is to feel an emotional mix. It can be %26 joy, %55 sadness, and the remainder is confusion. But not this. As my friend said: this is %100 + %100. The math does not work you say? I know. But neither does language. Words fail us too.
Humans create words to reflect the human experience. There is no word that captures the feeling of walking on the ceiling. And there is no word... there are no words, that capture this either. Nor should there be. For everything about this is distorted, perverted, unhuman and un-Godly.
In the words of J.R.R. Tolkien: "There is no curse in Elvish, Entish, or the tongues of Men for this treachery.'
...
There are also no words in any language to describe our neighbors' experience this week, nor their emotions. They buried their 28-year-old son-in-law - Raanan, right before they married off their son - Oz. Both young men, both tank soldiers, both on the northern border. Raanan's last picture was a chance meeting with his future brother-in-law, Oz.
If these two paragraphs have left you speechless, then you have emotionally joined the rest of us over here. For there are no words. And perhaps that is a good thing.
------------------------
As for my own feelings and words, know this.
I haven't felt as I have this week for the past seven years.
I haven't put on my uniform for the past seven years.
It feels good. Safe.
I feel unity. Purpose.
The only time I wore my uniform in the past seven years was when I entered Auschwitz's gas chambers. I wore it under my clothes. I told no one.
And as I stood with my high-school kids from N.Y., I peeled off my outer layers.
And suddenly, I was transformed.
For them.
For me.
No longer Josh. Now a soldier.
Not a victim, but a fighter.
So to you I proclaim (and to myself), with the inflection of screaming, elated, Israeli six-year-olds:
AM YISRAEL CHAI!!!