I write this on Yom HaZikaron, in the moments before the searing siren that ushers in a quiet, heart-breaking and respectful silence that pervades the length of this country. These days between Yom HaShoah and Yom Ha’Atzmaut are intense and special days in Israel. And already before Pesach, flags adorn buildings, cars, main roads and the memorial convoy trucks on Route 1 between Jerusalem and Tel Aviv. Every store has a plethora of flag items – picnic plates and tablecloths for Yom Ha’Atzmaut, boppers, spray cans, car flags.
I’m generally not one to be swayed by tchachkas – but my husband laughs that seeing me amongst such displays is like watching a child in the candy store. At last night’s ceremony at the Kotel in memory of the fallen soldiers, the camera repeatedly flashed to the flag waving in the wind as if it represented everything we were mourning that day. In many ways, it does. It’s what so many of our chayalim who gave their lives for our beautiful country are buried in and it’s what gives us purpose during difficult times: periods of terror and the endless cycle of wars we have known since the inception of our country and even before. The spirit of this country, represented by that degel and the rightness of Am Yisrael b’Eretz Yisrael, is what gives us purpose.
In Parshat Bamidbar, we read that each shevet had a flag of their own, one to give them identity. The Degel Yisrael, representing loss, hope and miracles give us an identity, one we are so blessed to have after 2,000 years of longing.
