Did You Miss the Biggest Jewish Party in the World ?

by Judy Lash Balint
May 7, 2003

If you weren't here in Israel over the past 24 hours, 
then you missed the biggest Jewish party in the world.  

As night falls, bringing relief from the agony of Remembrance 
Day, Israelis come out to celebrate Israel's 55th birthday 
in their own way. In Jerusalem, hundreds dressed in blue and 
white stream into synagogues all over the city for special 
prayers of thanksgiving.

At the Ohel Nechama synagogue, a few steps away from the 
President's house and the Jerusalem Theater, the baal tefilla 
(prayer leader) is a white-haired survivor of the Holocaust.  
His voice is strong as he belts out the Hallel and leads 
the congregation in the Shehechiyanu prayer, thanking God for 
allowing us to reach this special time. 

The brief service over, congregants pour out into the street 
mingling with youngsters on their way into town for the traditional 
music and dancing on the streets that are closed to traffic.  

Meantime, the official Independence Day opening ceremonies 
are getting underway at Mt Herzl. It's the closest we get to 
a military parade. Dozens of representatives of Israel's armed 
forces take part in a meticulously choreographed march-by set 
to patriotic music. The formality of the ceremony is very 
un-Israeli. 

Meanwhile, back in town there are two main stages set up on 
King George Street and in Zion Square featuring some of Israel's 
most popular groups. The plaza in Safra Square is set aside for 
Israeli dancing.

Buildings all over the city are adorned with massive Israeli 
flags. The roof of the Dan Panorama Hotel on Keren Hayesod 
Street is aflutter with dozens of smaller flags and strings 
of white lights. Cars sport flags attached from every conceivable 
opening.

Teenagers roam from one stage to the other squirting anyone 
within range with white goop from an aerosol can. Foreign news 
cameras ask kids to pose so they can document the mayhem. 

At 10:30 p.m. people start to congregate near the Sheraton 
Plaza Hotel to watch the main fireworks display. Fifteen minutes 
after it was scheduled to begin, the sky lights up with an 
awesome array of pyrotechnics. The noise is deafening, the colors 
against the black sky are stunning.

Many of the non-teen revelers head down to the Jerusalem Theater 
after the fireworks. The lobby is packed and impossibly hot as 
hundreds have packed themselves in to join Yehuda Elisa and 
Oshik Levi in a free sing-along of classic Israeli numbers.  
Starting at 11:30 p.m, there's a dance party there that features 
samba, salsa and 70s style music.

This morning, I hear the military band start up at the President's 
House nearby.  President Moshe Katzav, one of Israel's most 
popular presidents, is on the receiving line all morning for 
dignitaries who come to present their good wishes.  
Mid-morning, several air force jets do a stunt fly-by, leaving 
a trail of blue and white smoke in their wake.

Regular folks have already headed out to the parks and 
beaches for the traditional "mangal" or barbecue. There are 
regular radio updates on the gridlock covering certain parts 
of the country. By mid-day, several national parks are closed 
because there's just nowhere to squeeze in another vehicle.

It's the one day in the year that feels like a Sunday.  
Pure recreation with no major religious obligations.   
No newspapers, banks or mail to take the mind off finding 
the best place to set up the portable barbecue.

On the radio there's a special edition of a program where 
Israelis around the world call in. Michael from Tokyo calls 
to wish us chag sameach in Japanese.  Yossi from Denver reports 
that he's going to a Yom Haatzmaut program at the JCC, 
and Etti checks in from Amsterdam to let us know she's 
thinking of us.

I head out to Kibbutz Kfar Etzion, half an hour south of 
Jerusalem, for a reunion with my old ulpan buddies.  
It's 30 years since we sat together in the stifling classroom 
at Kibbutz Beerot Yitzhak memorizing dialogue as we tried 
to learn Hebrew.

I haven't seen anyone from those days in more than 20 years, 
but several of them have kept in touch with each other.  
Two of the former ulpanistim come out to meet me at the 
parking lot--it's startling to see middle-aged versions 
of the kids I remember from those days. Surprisingly, 
three of the group are still living on kibbutzim.  
My former ulpan roommate, formerly from Connecticut, 
married a kibbutzim and they made their lives on Beerot
Yitzhak.

Our host, Shoshana, a New York native, also married an 
Israeli and has never lived anywhere besides the kibbutz.  
Then there's Avraham, who went from Beerot Yitzhak to 
Bar Ilan University to Kibbutz Alumim, where he works as
a gardener today.

In between the eating, we peer at faded photos of our 
youthful exploits as new Israelis. We struggle to put 
names to faces we see in the pictures, and enjoy hearing 
fragments of stories that someone's heard about one or
another of the group. We figure that almost half of the 
ulpan still lives in Israel.

I manage to stop by at another backyard barbecue in 
nearby Alon Shvut before heading back to Jerusalem.  
The city is thronged with people in the early evening.  
All the parks are still packed with revelers who want to 
extend this joyful day as long as possible.  

In the lovely Yemin Moshe neighborhood just outside the 
walls of the Old City, a living history program is 
taking place, with actors dressed in period costume 
from the War of Independence days. Cafes nearby are 
jammed, families are strolling and music is everywhere.  

After dark, there's one final round of fireworks, this 
time set off near the Tower of David -- and then it's 
over.  

Next year you won't want to miss it.
---------------------------------
Judy Lash Balint is a Jerusalem based writer and author 
of Jerusalem Diaries: 
In Tense Times. 
http://www.jerusalemdiaries.com