Yom HaZikaron: My Disrespect to Reverence to ??

For too long, I treated Yom HaZikaron with disrespect, even hostility, and I know I’m not alone. As the shock of October 7th fades, we must rethink this day and its role in the Jewish calendar.

Yom HaZikaron deserves greater reverence, equal to other major Jewish holidays. It should play a more powerful role in educating Jews worldwide, reinforcing commitment and drawing inspiration from the thousands of soldiers and victims of terror—many of them heroes—who made the ultimate sacrifice for the Jewish People.

Throughout my life, Yom HaZikaron barely registered. As a young child, it was absent. As a religious teenager with a largely non-Zionist worldview, I had the audacity to resent the day for intruding on the traditional calendar. Even after becoming a Zionist, making Aliyah, moving to a Religious Zionist yishuv, and having a child in the army, I struggled to connect. I attended memorials and recited Tehillim, but the day felt like a prelude to Yom Ha’atzmaut—a semi-day before the main event.

Then came October 7th. My son served on the front lines, losing many colleagues. I lost a friend, and neighbors, friends, and clients mourned loved ones. The nation grieved, and I felt our vulnerability. Yom HaZikaron took on profound importance, yet I still struggle to express its meaning fully.

One challenge is that I never served in the IDF—a choice I made by making Aliyah at 31, when service wasn’t required. Without that experience or the personal loss of a loved one, I feel disconnected from official ceremonies. I attend our community tekes, but it lacks the solemnity of other Jewish holidays.

I now see Yom HaZikaron differently and worry that as October 7th’s impact wanes—as it already seems to—we’ll lose sight of the sacrifices made on our behalf. How can we make Yom HaZikaron more accessible, beyond a day for those who’ve lost loved ones to grieve through ceremonies, which must remain unchanged?

We cannot let this day fade for two reasons. First, it disrespects those who gave their lives for Israel. Second, it’s a missed opportunity to honor a generation of heroes who, from 1948 to today, have fought for a Jewish state—many while learning Torah, raising families, working the land, and building the economy. I wrote last week about one such soldier, Eliav Abitbul, as an example (see: Who Will Our Heroes Be – A Modern Maccabee).

This issue intersects with the national debate about those who refuse to serve. Those who opt out, particularly as a community, should especially honor Yom HaZikaron, as fallen soldiers bear a double burden in their stead. It’s hard to accept that some refuse both service and remembrance.

Some argue Tisha B’Av is the only day for mourning. Yet, while kinnot exist for the Holocaust, pogroms, and other tragedies, there’s little effort in these communities to include fallen soldiers or terror victims in Tisha B’Av prayers.

The question is: Will Yom HaZikaron remain a minor event, ignored by many, centered on physical ceremonies and secular acts like halting television? Or is it time to reimagine it as a broader, cross-communal recognition of the loss, bravery, and heroism that form our backbone?

The choice is ours.