Stopping by memorial stones on a solemn sunny morning
I love to walk. I feel fortunate to be able to walk along a tayelet (boardwalk) that winds along the beautiful and ever changing Mediterranean Sea. People on these walks may occasionally stop to admire flowering trees, bushes, newly planted flowers, or the occasional hoopoe with its crown of glory pecking at the soil in search of bugs. Or they may find themselves having to dodge the leftovers of sloppy eaters who fail to throw their trash into one of the myriad of garbage cans along the way. Even more unpleasant, they may have to stop in order to skirt the leftovers of pets, whose owners are too irresponsible to pick up.
But, what makes this tayelet exceptional, singular, and at the same time regular and modest are the memorial stones placed every few hundred meters apart. Some lay flat to the ground, while others are slightly elevated on small platforms surrounded by flowers. One has a sundial attached and a speaker when pressed that tells the story of the soldier for whom the memorial stone has been laid. There is another stone, whose place requires the walker to exert additional effort. The walker must climb up to an elevation to see that memorial stone, yet is granted the opportunity to enjoy a breathtaking panoramic view of the Mediterranean coast of Israel. And, the walker might also hear the grinding blade of a helicopter flying overhead conducting a routine check of the coastline. All the elements converge on that peak- the sacrifice given, the gift received, and the ongoing need to protect that gift.
The stones have a plaque attached with the name of the soldier who has died in service to Israel. During COVID, it was forbidden to visit the military cemeteries en masse. The sister of one of the fallen remained next to the memorial stone all of Yom Hazikaron. In typical Israeli fashion, she had set down a few bottles of juice and a plate of cookies. She was there to tell any interested passersby of the story of her brother’s heroism and sacrifice. I asked about the soldier’s wife. Solemnly she replied that she could not come… it was still too difficult, especially now, as her son was also an officer in the army.
Like many of the other walkers, I am not personally familiar with these fallen soldiers. Yet, as I pass their simple modest memorial stones, they remind and reinforce the powerful poetic statement of Maxwell Edmonds (1875-1958), as inscribed on the Kohima Epitaph
“ For your tomorrow, we gave our today”
While that epitaph was composed during the brutalities of WWI, these famous words came to world recognition at a memorial for the soldiers lost during WWII in Nagaland, India, at a battle considered to be a crucial turning point in the war. Those powerful words and their soldiers lay 8000 kilometers from Britain.
Not so for our beloved and precious soldiers. Their sacrifices lay before us, to the west, and to the east, and to the north, and to the south of the land of Eretz Yisrael. We can never forget the sacrifices that have been made so that we can walk carelessly down a tayelet in Netanya, pray at the Kotel, climb Masada, plow the lush fields of Emek Yizrael or ride the underground train of Tel Aviv.
Our memories do not fade, as they might for those buried 8000 miles away from home. Here, we live our memories, and remember the sacrifices of our beloved soldiers everyday.
Our work is far from done.
“…I have promises to keep
And miles to go before I sleep
And miles to go before I sleep”
( Robert Frost- “ Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening”
