Reality in Israel

Three months ago, Capt. Yoni Netanel had a baby daughter named Maayan. On Monday, January 5 Yoni was killed in Gaza. The next day I got a call at around 6:30 PM from my friend Avital Greenfest. I was in the cafeteria having dinner and she was just upstairs. Why was she calling when she could just come talk, I thought to myself. I answered the phone regardless.

"The funeral for one of the soldiers who died yesterday is in a half hour on Har Herzl. It's open to the public and we can make it there if we leave right now."

She didn't have to say any more. In two minutes we were walking out the front entrance of the Judean Youth Hostel along with another friend of ours, Adin Pearl. In five minutes we were at our bus stop and it was another two minutes before we boarded the number 13. Fifteen minutes passed and we were stepping off it. We found large groups of people walking from different directions toward one entrance to the burial grounds. They were all heading towards an even larger group.

Once we converged with the tremendous crowd, we saw that they were gathering around a military jeep. We had arrived just in time to find six soldiers standing at the rear entrance to the vehicle. Another minute passed and two of them entered to retrieve something.

Yoni's coffin came out draped in an Israeli flag. I had only seen one other coffin in my life-- my grandfather's when I was eleven. Needless to say I felt a huge lump in my throat which I had difficulty swallowing. Goosebumps formed on my arms. I watched with hesitation as the six soldiers somberly carried the casket. The now gigantic group of civilians followed them.

We arrived at the burial site after another minute or two. The whole ceremony was in Hebrew and I had difficulty understanding it entirely. I understood the basics, though. Yoni was an Israeli soldier who was fighting against Hamas in Gaza. He was from a religious family. He had a wife and had just had his first child. Numerous friends and family members spoke, all praising his kindness, integrity, and morality.

The funeral was an important, although very heavy, experience for me. Afterwards, I went back to my everyday life here. Right now I am taking classes with other Americans in Jerusalem, far away from the war. This distance is both physical and mental. I am forced to accept the reality that there are kids my age risking their lives in this country. Every day when they get out of bed, they do not know if they will return to it that night. That is their reality.

Mine is that I went out for dinner with my friends a few nights ago. We had Chinese.

I go on living my life but Yoni's wife cannot. And his daughter, Maayan, will never have a normal life. That is Israel's reality, and Yoni's funeral made me realize that it is true every minute of every day here.