Last night, in what has become classic Israeli fashion, Israel divided into two as it marked October 7th. There was an official government ceremony, presided over by Miri Regev, boycotted by most Israeli musicians and much of the public.
There was also an alternate ceremony, in Yarkon Park in Tel Aviv, that quickly became the hot ticket to get. Space, it was announced, would be limited to 40,000 people. My wife and I chatted briefly about whether it was smart to be outside with 40,000 people and no shelters, but we decided, What the hell. That’s life here.
A couple of weeks ago, I went online to get two tickets, but I was way too late. Nothing left.
Then, of course, that became academic. The security forces announced that attendance would be limited to 2,000 people, just immediate family of the hostages and the fallen. Under relentless pressure, a couple of days ago, they raised the number to 3,000. And then, when the heavy rocketing from Lebanon intensified, they cut it back to 1,000.
That’s who was there. 1,000 people with shattered hearts.
The organizers had said that it would not be a political evening. No politician would even be named, nor were any politicians welcome to attend. If the government had abandoned them and their loves ones on October 7 and has never taken responsibility, its members would not be welcome here.
The ceremony, which ended with Hatikva (in the video at the top) lasted about two hours. It began at 7:10 pm (a time chosen for it’s obvious association with the date 10-7) and continued until just about 9:15 when the “official” ceremony (which I did not watch) began.
The Yarkon Park ceremony was, I thought, incredibly beautiful, heartbreakingly painful, and even a bit hopeful. Because it was such a powerful window into the soul of a large portion of this nation, we will share, over the next few days and weeks, a few more clips of moments that particularly struck me—along with a bit of background to the people and the music, when applicable.
The ceremony included a number of videos of some of the poignant stories of loss, often with someone from the story present on stage. We’ll see two of them here.
The first, immediately below, speaks for itself.
Ivri Lider, the singer, is one of Israel’s best-known and beloved music personalities. He wrote the lyrics and the melody to the song he sings, “I Know that I Was Lucky to have Loved,” the song that Yuval Trabelsi says she dedicates to her murdered husband (killed one month after they were married) when she visits the cemetery.
Lider’s shirt, in a kind of spray-painted black paint, says יהי זכרם מהפכה, yehi zichram mahapeicha, “May their Legacy be a Revolution,” a phrase that’s been around for a while, but has become associated with those lost on October 7, particularly the hostages.
The clip begins with Yuval, and then goes on to the song:
As poignant as all the speeches were, only one got a standing ovation. That speech is immediately below, and was the closest that the proceedings got to the political.
You can see, in a few instances, Yonatan Shamriz struggling not to break down as he spoke about his brother, Alon z”l, who had succeeded in escaping his Hamas captors, only to be gunned down by Israeli soldiers who mistook him and his two fellow captives for terrorists. As Yonatan struggled, the crowd applauded, so he would not have to face the silence. And when he was done, they applauded and then they stood—the only standing ovation during the whole evening was the call for a Commission of Inquiry and for the promise that a new generation is going to repair this country.
An agonizing day in Israel ended with a heartbreaking and, I thought, powerfully beautiful, ceremony that reflected the very best of what this country is, and can be.
We’ll share additional clips of the ceremony in the days and weeks to come.
"I know that I was lucky to have loved"