"This is the day which the Lord hath made; we will rejoice and be glad in it," is how we began the night of celebrating, a song of praise and thanks to the creator for the wonder of our freedom.
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When we closed the prayer books at the end of Arvit, we quickly opened the skies to join the ceremony of the Independence Day eve torch lighting on Mount Herzl in Jerusalem. It was exciting to see hundreds of dancers and artists, maskless, gathered together to make the people happy. A free people in their country, a people who were resurrected after a year of pain and lockdown.
Before the torches were lighted, I had tissues ready to dry away any rogue tears. Rogue – "flood" would be a better word for what the unique stories and the spirits of all the torch lighters inspired in me.
Tablet in hand, finding it hard to cut ourselves off from the main event, we ran to a local celebration in Ofra. After a year in which we hadn't gathered, we all met on the grass, a tribe of brothers, thanking God and the IDF for our liberty and the privilege of settling parts of the Land.
The morning of Independence Day, we fulfilled the commandment of the day – a hike in our beautiful country.
This time, the extended family drove to a national park in Modi'in. The green hill, covered with late flowers, was the point at which Israel's 1948 War of Independence began when the state was founded.
Nearby, a few valiant battles were fought that allowed Israel to maintain a vital corridor from Jerusalem to the coastal plains region.
In one of these battles, Moshe Yefet, a brave young soldier, crawled alone beneath enemy fire to reach a row of Jordanian tanks. He pretended to be wounded and collapsed, then at point-blank range fired rounds that hit the enemy and scared them off. Thanks to him, we are here, lifting our faces to the blue sky, where storks fly, competing with the Israeli Air Force's special aeronautics squadron.
That evening, full of barbecued meat and smelling of smoke, we returned home. Waze sent us along Highway 1 toward Jerusalem. We climbed up the twisting but wide road, past Bab al Wad to the city. On the way, we saw the old hulls of tanks, wrapped in blue and white flags.
The hulls were still, but we traveled, continuing on our way. But never for a moment do we forget to give thanks for our freedom.
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