REMEMBRANCE DAY Death Has No Glory
It was last week as I was watching the official memorial service at the Western Wall for Israel's fallen soldiers. And in that holy place, Israel's top general, its chief of staff, got up to speak. What do Long before I became an Israeli and a resident of Jerusalem, I lived in America, where I experienced numerous memorial days. There were flags, but mostly there were sales. I don't think I ever saw the face of a single fallen American soldier on any television show, let alone a day's worth of shows devoted exclusively to soldiers killed in action, or in traffic accidents, or in terrorist attacks. Remembrance Day in Israel is like nothing else, I dare say, anywhere in the world. The country simply shuts down. Restaurants, bars, discos close down. Radio and television channels spend the day telling the stories of the fallen, showing old pictures and new videos of soldiers who died that morning or 50 years ago. And the programs all emphasize the same thing: the man's childhood, his home, his parents, his wife or girlfriend. The silly pictures from his high-school parties. The smiling face of the little boy dressed up for Purim. The words of the friends who never stop mourning, who never forget. And for one day, every single person in Israel who identifies with the Jewish State, and the lives of the people who live here, recognize these men and women as part of their own past, their own family. I AM ALWAYS surprised that I have any tears left on Remembrance Day here in Israel, following as it does so closely on the heels of Holocaust Remembrance Day. And that my tears flow looser, hotter and with more despair, and my heart aches as it does. I figured out why, though, through the years, thereby learning the true secret of the State of Israel. (Come closer, bend your ear, shhh.) Here it is: The State of Israel has no army. No, my friend. No army at all. All it has is my husband and son, and your brother and his son, and their sister's boy or girl and the neighbor's kid, and the survivor's grandson - the tall handsome one, who looks like his great-uncle who died in Auschwitz. They all live in the next room, or the next house, or at the very most an hour's bus ride away. There is not a man, woman or child in Israel who has more than one or two degrees of separation between themselves and every precious boy or girl in uniform who falls defending our lives from real bombs, real bullets, real slaughter.
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you think he spoke about, this general and army man? If he were any other nationality or religion, and this were any country but Israel, we wouldn't even have to ask: The glory of our fallen heroes. Their bravery and sacrifice on the battlefield. The greatness of our victories. But not Chief of General Staff Shaul Mofaz. He spoke about remembering the birth of a child. The first picture taken in kindergarten. The first baby tooth that falls. The bar mitzva pictures. The graduation from high school. The mother's kiss on the cheek of the new recruit. He spoke about the incalculable loss to each fallen soldier's family, his parents, grandparents, brothers, sisters, girlfriend, wife, children. About the preciousness of life, and the horror of death. 
If only the BBC, and CNN and Sky News would stop interviewing the mothers and uncles of suicide bombers who speak of holy martyrdom, and sacred deaths, and holy wars; if only their confused reporters would simply sit and listen to Israel's keening on Remembrance Day, and broadcast that to the world instead, what a blessing they would bring mankind. What a lesson.