A love letter to Israel: Reflections on Memorial Day from Eilat - opinion

For the past two days, here in Eilat of all places, I have been thinking about how much I love our country, this unique, battered, bereaved, tormented country unlike any other in the world. I've been thinking about the songs' longing for Israel's past and hopes for its future.

I can tell you that I love this country to the ends of the earth. Its landscapes and trails, its songs, and its people. I love every corner of it, every mountain and path, every valley and plain. I have walked across most of them myself on hikes with the Hashomer Hatzair youth movement, which shaped my life in no small way, my career in communications, and my move to a kibbutz, where I still live today with my children and grandchildren.

I love this country to the ends of the earth. I refused to get Portuguese passports for my family and myself. I am of Syrian descent and qualify for a European passport, but I resisted the lure of its academic benefits. People told me I was hurting my children and grandchildren. I am convinced I was giving them a gift. None of us, neither my wife nor I, has uncles or family abroad. Everyone is here, either buried in the ground or walking proudly above it.

I love this country because of my late father, Yaakov. He was a Palmach fighter, trained at Givat Haim, fought in Lod and in the battle for Malkia, was wounded, helped found Kibbutz Malkia, then worked as a scaffolder for Solel Boneh, fell from scaffolding, recovered, and went on to help pave Highway 1 to Jerusalem and the Eilat-Sharm road. My father loved fries and shawarma. That was the grandest picnic he could imagine.

I love this country because of its people, who are unlike any others and exceptional on the global stage. They argue, split, and disagree politically, yet they do not let each other fall. They show mutual responsibility when it matters. They know their children are together in the same tank, ready to risk their lives so that the people may live. They know that the eternity of Israel matters and that our ability to survive here together depends on it.

How do I know? I go deep into conversation with them, even with those who sometimes throw an unfriendly remark my way at a hotel, in a mall, or in a coffee shop. I greet them warmly, speak with them, reach 90% common ground, and even manage the disagreements that also need to be handled together. It usually ends with a hug and an exchange of phone numbers. That is true on the street and on social media as well.

I love the evolving kibbutz movement, adapting its way of life and welcoming returning sons and daughters, as well as others seeking rural communal living. I love Lehavot Haviva, my home, which has grown, expanded, become more beautiful, and been blessed with a strong community, quality education, and mutual support unlike anything else.

I love the IDF deeply. It has mistakes and failures, yet there is nothing like it in the world. I love its commanders, its women and men in uniform, its atmosphere, and its slang. I thank God for giving me the privilege of serving as the spokesperson and voice of this army. I am in love with the Air Force, where I served as a soldier, but no less with the Navy, the infantry brigades, and intelligence.

I cry with emotion when I visit Havat Hashomer, where 19-year-old young women deal with 18-year-old boys who have 20 police files and turn them into outstanding soldiers and good citizens. I shed a tear at Michve Alon, where they teach Hebrew to soldiers who have just immigrated. At times, you can hear more than 40 foreign languages there, all becoming one language, Hebrew. I am equally moved when I attend the graduation ceremony of 70 Haredi soldiers who completed a six-month programming course in the IDF C4I and Cyber Defense Directorate.

I love farmers in general, and especially those who live along the borders. Those who bring forth bread from the earth, those who hold on to the hills, those who cultivate every last dunam, those who milk cows under fire, those whose faces are lined by the blazing sun and who are responsible for our granary.

I also admire the farmers and scientists who work to develop yet another variety of potato, there are nearly 100 kinds, and another kind of cherry tomato, pepper, or eggplant in a new color, one that will conquer supermarket shelves in Europe, smile at the locals, and tell them, “I am from Israel, and I am here.” I love the Weizmann Institute of Science, the Technion, the science park in Rehovot, the IDF cyber and computer science park, Ben-Gurion University of the Negev, and the view from the cafeteria at the University of Haifa.

And do not tell the traffic police, but I love devouring the road from Ramat Negev to Nitzana on the Egyptian border, and I love racing along the narrow road from the northern Golan Heights to the southern Golan.

I love that when one Israeli meets another abroad, they are brothers, even if they have never met. You will not find that in any other people on earth. I even love those Israelis whose flights are delayed a little or who get stuck in a storm and call the Foreign Ministry situation room demanding rescue while complaining that the state is not helping them. That happens only in Israel, and it is wonderful.

I love fundraising drives for every cause imaginable, even if they are usually an indictment of the government, health funds, or insurance companies. In Israel, unlike in the US or Europe, one Jew will always help another Jew in need of medicine or food, whether he supports Netanyahu or opposes him.

Israeli identity usually rises above everything else, and I am in love with the new Zionism, with the pre-military academies, with the groups of army veterans founded in recent years that are rebuilding Manara, Misgav Am, and Nir Oz, and helping in Sderot and Kiryat Shmona instead of backpacking around the world.

I am proud, despite all the hardship, of the aliyah we absorbed from the former Soviet Union and Ethiopia, and of their integration into the army, industry, and every sphere of life. I am convinced we are in a window of opportunity to bring another half a million immigrants here through a shared national effort. We need them. And I love the hundreds of lone soldiers who leave their families abroad, come here to serve, and fall in love with the country. I admire them.

I am proud of our high-tech industries, our technologies, our cyber companies, those leading in artificial intelligence, our defense industries, our presence in space, and our impressive air defense capabilities. I am equally proud that we pray three times a day for peace and are commanded to seek and pursue it.

I love the Bible, which is the moral command of the Jewish people. I love the Declaration of Independence, which is Israel’s compass. I love Ben-Gurion and the decisions he made that still hold firm today.

I love this country to the ends of the earth, but I am also deeply troubled by the attempts to undermine the Supreme Court, intensify hatred and polarization, and rising crime, and the fact that there are people here who insist on avoiding core studies and refuse to join the broader society. I am troubled by inequality in sharing the burden, by government corruption, and by attempts to change the character of the regime in this country.

Yet I am not only worried. I am also deeply optimistic because of the people I meet in the street, in coffee shops, in my travels around the country, in television studios, and on the kibbutz. Because of the Israeli spirit. The lessons of the Holocaust and the understanding that there is no safe place for Jews other than the national home, Israel, are the reasons for this.

I am optimistic because of the wonderful, mission-driven, Zionist youth. This is due to changes among Arab citizens of Israel who want to integrate. This is due to positive trends in mainstream religious Zionism, the enlistment of Haredim, and our shared desire to live in a Jewish and democratic state with security and peace.

I am optimistic because of the human capital here, because of the women taking command and leadership positions, and I hope we will see many more of them in government, in the Knesset, and in public service. I am optimistic because we have not lost hope and still hold on to it. Our culture, literature, science, technology, and medicine are among the best in the world. During COVID, others envied us for it.

I am optimistic because of every Israeli man and woman living here on our small aircraft carrier, regardless of whether I agree with them about the Supreme Court or civil marriage.

I know that we share a common fate and a common future and that we have nowhere else to go. I love this country to the ends of the earth. I pledge my loyalty forever, and I lift my eyes to heaven, asking for help to protect it and to protect us from ourselves and from our enemies.

May we be good and worthy.