Blurred days of mourning, but message the same

I hadn’t considered his height, yet Benny Gantz was still taller than I would have thought him to be had I done so. He stood waiting at the entrance to kibbutz Yad Mordechai, his new home following the 7 October invasion of Israel. Dressed in a black golf shirt, slim-fit black pants, and black Cole Haans, he gave off James Bond-meets-mysterious-older-uncle vibes that might have attracted me to him but also made me weigh each word for multiple meanings.

Yad Mordechai borders Gaza. Named after a hero of the Warsaw Ghetto uprising, it is known for its agricultural produce, specifically honey production. Gantz explained that he had a family connection to the kibbutz – his parents-in-law were buried there – which is why it made an obvious choice to move to the area. One that he said was to stand with the residents of the south.

The kibbutz is no stranger to conflict. For six days in 1948, they fought off the Egyptians as they pushed north. And for many hours on 7 October 2023, they fought off Hamas as they attempted to breach the perimeter. Hamas members came from different directions, but had the same intention.

It was a strange time to visit. It was the eve of Yom Hazikaron, Israel’s Memorial Day that followed Yom Hashoah by a few days. And although my mind might be able to distinguish the days from each other, my heart was finding it more difficult to separate them. The emotions and the music, along with the “Holocaust” references to 7 October, blurs the days in pain and then unites them in stories of resilience and hope.

Gantz feels strongly that the days need to be kept separate. And yet, as he walked us around the kibbutz, he constantly needed to clarify whether it was the story of the Warsaw uprising, the Egyptian attack of 1948, or 7 October that he was referring to. To maintain clarity, I started to picture a sad Excel spreadsheet that kept notes of the differences.

Naturally, we spoke of the war, the future, of political divides, and the hostages. “Is there a price too high to pay?” I asked him, knowing it was unlikely he would be able or willing to answer. He responded to the question at length. He acknowledged that it was the fundamental question. But his answer was unclear. Later, when addressed with another query, he referred to maintaining Israel’s control of Jerusalem and turned to me and said, “That would be a price too high.”

We left Gantz to attend a ceremony at Latrun. Hosted by Masa, it brought together 1 500 youngsters spending time in Israel. In English, designed for the audience, with song choices from popular culture, the event was slick, professional, and respectful. It also felt slightly disconnected from the brutal reality of the day. Almost as if we were being protected from the raw pain that swirled around us. It wasn’t for me.

A friend told me that he was going to spend Yom Hazikaron with friends. Meaning at the cemetery. Others will go down south to the Gaza envelope. I’m going to the Nova site. I didn’t ask Benny Gantz what he was doing.

The days of mourning are blurred. The ways in which we commemorate are personal and nuanced. But zoom out just a little, and the picture is the same. Loss, heroism, and resilience along with the unshakeable knowledge that the Jewish people are one.