Each Yom HaZikaron, I find myself drawn to the Yehuda Amichai poem, written about Yom HaZikaron itself. Entitled Who Will Remember Those Who Remembers, he wrote:

What is the correct way to stand at a memorial ceremony?
Erect or stooped, pulled taut as a tent or in the slumped posture of mourning,
head bowed like the guilty or held high in a collective protest against death,
eyes gaping frozen like the eyes of the dead or shut tight, to see stars inside?
And what is the best time for remembering?
At noon when shadows are hidden beneath our feet,
or at twilight when shadows lengthen like longings that have no beginning, no end, like God?

Israelis are, unfortunately, far too good at memorial ceremonies. From the songs to the flags to the sirens, the sense of loss permeates the country in a way that I do not think we Americans can truly understand. Normally, though, the sadness of yesterday’s Yom HaZikaron gives way to unbridled joy; the streets of Israel erupt with songs, dancing, plastic hammers, and a party atmosphere as Yom Ha’Atzmaut begins.

So, Israelis know how to stand for a memorial service. The question this year has been—how do we celebrate Yom Ha’Atzmaut in the shadow of October 7? How do we celebrate independence when our soldiers are at war?

In Israel this year, against the backdrop of the Gaza war and the number of hostages still being held in captivity, Yom Ha’Atzmaut must surely change. Officially, the traditional Air Force flyover will not be taking place. Most municipalities have also decided to cut any big performances and concerts. Fireworks shows have also been mostly ruled out to protect soldiers and victims from any potential noise triggers. And, flags will fly—as they have proudly since October 7. Songs will be sung, and—perhaps because of the war and the hostages—Israelis will celebrate their miraculous country, in prayer and in hope and—yes, even in joy.

In a beautiful piece for the Prizmah Journal, our own Tami Weiser also reflects on Yehuda Amichai, using his teaching that: “you must not change, you must surely change” as a prompt to think about Yom Ha’Atzmaut 5784. Of our Wise celebrations, she writes:

The driveway leading up to campus is filled with Israeli flags, we have a shuk during recess, each class enjoys Israeli food, the students dress in blue and white or shirts from Israel, there is dancing and joy throughout the day. We intend to keep much of these beloved traditions intact.

At the same time, as we focused on the questions of how this day should look this year, we realized our script would have to be different.

The Psalms guide us to remember that those who sow in tears will reap in joy; they implore us to turn our mourning into dancing. These are steps we know well; we enact them at weddings when we break the glass just before shouting mazal tov, they are the poignancy of a prayer for healing at a joyous event, it is the yearly transition from Yom HaZikaron to Yom Ha’Atzmaut. This year, we are learning a new dance—we will have to mourn and celebrate in the same moment, the same breath. But—celebrate we will, because—as we have said and will continue to say: Am Yisrael Chai!!

— Rabbi Sari Laufer