Why do we fight wars and what is victory?
I once saw an interview with a former 101st Airborne hero. He climbed the chalky slopes at Normandy, under withering fire from Germans standing above. He said that after the war, a person approached him and asked him why he fought. His pithy answer which said so much was, “So that you wouldn’t have to learn German.”
My wife and I made our way on Monday to the military cemetery in Jerusalem. We had been there one year earlier when close friends of ours buried their oldest son who fell in Gaza. In the same location and again with hundreds of people present, the first anniversary of his passing was recognized. I was saddened but unfortunately not surprised by many new graves that had been added during the previous 12 months. All of those named on the fresh headstones were in their 20’s. They were from different units and fell in different battles. But all gave the ultimate sacrifice for us. The graves on Mt. Herzl are elevated from the ground for the most part. What I found, something I had never seen before, was that family and friends used the small space of the grave as a site of personal remembrance. There were pictures, notes from friends, a banner from a beloved soccer club, plants and the like. Many, if not most, of the graves held a small memorial by which the living could express their love and longing for the dead.
While the memorial was held under the same metal roof and with family, friends, religious and military figures as a year before, the emotions were slightly less raw. There was crying and pain, but the utter devastation and destruction had begun the painful transition to a new life, one in which the deceased would be remembered and cherished. Friends and family spoke about the huge hole in their lives with the loss of the young man from an engineering battalion. He accomplished much in his life and he died as a hero. He and those buried around him died so that we could continue to live. One of the most painful aspects of the event came at the end. While hundreds streamed by the mourning family, a loudspeaker announcement was made. “Those attending the memorial are asked to please leave as quickly as possible. Another memorial is waiting to begin.” I could not begin to fathom the depth of destruction until we were asked to move out because a few more hundred people needed to come in so as to repeat the process of memorial and prayers.
While my first instinct after the events of the day was to go home and listen to some depressing music, I had promised my wife that we would go to IKEA. IKEA itself deserves an article on its revolutionary design and production methods, including its famous flat packaging requirement for many goods. It is the only big-box store to make it in Israel. Costco, Walmart and others never even bothered, due to Israel being a small country with a very high level of duties and tax. Starbucks folded after a few weeks, and Ace Hardware had the American name but Israeli prices. I don’t know how IKEA makes it here with the high taxes, but they have grown into multiple stores. When the first store opened, it was on a Saturday, the Jewish Sabbath. The standard restaurants served non-kosher food. Then the owners realized that the biggest sector buying and renting homes and apartments is the orthodox and ultraorthodox. They closed on the Sabbath and moved to strictly kosher food. Seeing so many young families in the store certainly helped raise my spirits after the sadness of the morning.
While being amazed at the number and kinds of goods that IKEA sells, it dawned on me that like the fellow who scaled the cliffs at Normandy, those who gave their lives in the present war did so that we can continue to live our lives. We want to shop at IKEA. We want to bathe in the Mediterranean in Tel Aviv. We want to live and dance at weddings. We don’t want Sharia enforcers telling us how to dress, how to live. While IKEA is about half an hour from the military cemetery, they are linked by the famous statement of Jefferson that, “The tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of patriots and tyrants.” My friend’s young son and the other soldiers who died with him when an RPG hit their position did not die so that we could specifically go shopping at a Swedish furniture store. But they gave their lives so that we could live as Jews in our ancient homeland. Their bravery is the price that we and every other free people periodically pay so as to remain free. Many encouraged Churchill to come to an understanding with Hitler. It certainly would have saved many soldiers and much British treasure. But Churchill understood that to live not as a free man but rather as a slave to a despotic fascist was not to live at all. It is a disgrace but not a surprise that the British men and women who sacrificed so much to keep England free from Nazi control can watch from above as their offspring arrest people for the crime of expressing themselves on the streets or via their computers.
The quiet of Mt Herzl is an abnormality in the bustling city of Jerusalem, where dozens of new skyscrapers and four new light rail lines are all being built at once. The sacrifice of those buried there will live on for eternity, and they will join heroes from all ages who fought and gave their lives so that others could live free. If the current war, whose outcome is still in the balance, brings a better future of peace and security for all of Israel’s citizens, then their sacrifice will be the cornerstone of a better future for all—Jews, Christians and Muslims.