"Yes Hamefachedet!" So began a traumatizing 5 minute introduction of what it's like on the first day of IDF bootcamp. Led by our supposed soldier friends who seemed to derive a little too much fun from making us stand attention in rows of three (and do pushups when we failed), we were incredibly relieved when they broke character from their "Full Metal Jacket" routine and we segued into a discussion of the powerful challenges presented to soldiers every day in the Israeli military. Tackling questions like "how do you disarm a terrorist holding a child?" revealed how impossible many of the decisions these soldiers--some of them younger than us--have to address with lightning fast reflexes on a regular basis. To me personally it was the culmination of an emotional day that highlighted how critical it is to be aware of the fact that the status quo simply isn't acceptable; nothing upsets me more than to think of how the burden of this fight rests upon the shoulders of young adults.
To backtrack, we began our day at the Supreme Court. While perhaps not the most exciting stop of our trip, we did get to sit in on a hearing that involved five Supreme Court justices, and while I understood approximately nothing said during the trial, the entire event (as well as the very architecture of the building) suggested an approachability and transparency that is admirable. After the courtroom, we learned about the differing judicial systems within the Israeli government (including criminal, civil, and religious court systems).
From the Supreme Court, we left for our central activity of the day, visiting Mount Herzl. We began by a discussion of Theodor Herzl and his dream of an Israeli state, and from there went to visit Herzl's tombstone. Though Herzl was unable to see his idea become a reality, it is pretty incredible to conceive that a mere half century transpired between conception and reality.
We moved on to the graves of former Prime Ministers, and paused specifically at the headstone of Yitzhak Rabin, where Yoav spoke to us about his own memory of Rabin and the assassination by right-wing extremists. I have always admired his passionate pursuit for peace throughout his life, and he ultimately died for what I believe was a faith in a common goodness.
Finally we visited multiple sections dedicated to the fallen of various wars, from old battles to an American citizen, Michael Levin, who lost his life during the Second Lebanon War. Two incidents stuck out monumentally in my mind. First was the children's story we read at the gravestone of Guni Harnik, a war hero who is buried at the 'brothers grave.' Written by his mother, it opens with the line, "Once upon a time, I had a son." No mother should ever have to author such a thought, and those simple and almost innocent words echoed long-after in my mind. Secondly were the numbers; on every gravestone, conspicuous amongst a field of (for me) unreadable Hebrew characters, were numbers: 21, 20, 21, 18, 18, 19, 22, 39, 24, 20, 31, 27, 18. These were, of course, the ages of each fallen member, and was the most sober and profound reminder of the true cost of war. These ages matched my age, and more importantly, they matched the ages of our Israeli friends who were the peers of those who now were passed. We closed our time at Mount Herzl with the singing of Hatikvah, and then left for the marketplace.
As somber and beautiful as Mount Herzl was, the shuk was in every way the opposite: loud, exciting, colorful, and loud. Fishmongers, spice sellers, and every kitschy shop imaginable lined the narrow, covered streets. For about two hours we split up, tasting and taking in the sights and sounds of a Jerusalem marketplace. Returning to the bus, we drove two hours north to the hostel (and partied a bit on the bus) and then enjoyed a nice dinner before the soldiers took over the evening show!
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