The Lions of 101

They were paunchy and lumbering, some still taut with cultivated white beards, their wives--maybe not the ones they began with, children old enough to have their own army stories and grandchildren who could not yet know how the nation survived its early years. More than 100 friends and family of Shlomo (Shleimi) Baum came together at the Almorah restaurant in the Judean hill town of Even Sapir. We were there to remember Shlomo on the 10th year since he died. We were there because Elana thought to bring us together with her now grown children Maia, Ilil, and David to hear stories about a husband and father who had been a legend in his lifetime.

It was a celebration of the 101, a unit of the IDF organized by Arik Sharon in August 1953 to retaliate for fedayeen
attacks against Israelis that had been costing many Israeli lives. Arik brought in Shlomo Baum as his deputy along with 50 men chosen to stop the raids by retaliation attacks in Jordan and Egypt. The unit carried out several damaging raids to carry the message that Israeli lives were not cheap and five months later 101 was absorbed in the Paratroop brigade. But one of the messages that came through at Shlomo's gathering this week was that the doctrine of retaliation that had been forgotten during the years after the 1948 Independence War, was reestablished as a core doctrine of the IDF.

It was an evening of reminiscence about Shleimi, everything from his famous big ears to his immensely strong body and bravery, to his intense curiosity about making things work. Stories came from members of the 101, from military historian Uri Milstein, from poet Haim Gouri, from General Israel Tal whose fame rests upon his development of Israel's Merhava tank, from novelist Meir Shalev and many others. And in between, musicians played familiar old songs.

Max and I were there with our son Daniel because when we lived in Israel from '73-'77, we met Shlomo and Elana and Max spent many hours with Shlomo, already retired from active service but deeply concerned about the political direction of Israel. And when Daniel and Alex came to join Tzahal, Shlomo was always ready to help them. Max and Shlomo would argue, the tough lion and his friend from such a different world. And when Shlomo would disagree with Max he would say MA-AX, as though it had two syllables, before launching into a lecture to straighten out his friend.

It was a privilege to be at this gathering of patriots. It was a reminder of how long Israel has had to fight to exist and of the price paid by many to protect it. It was a reminder that there was a time when, at least for some, protecting what you value was an imperative.

Alex Remembered

It's been months since I blogged. Why? Not because of lack of things to say but mostly because what I want to say is directed individually. But this message is for all, a message of memory directed forward.

The memory is that of our son Alex, z"l, killed in a battle with terrorists in Lebanon who were trying to make their way to attack northern villages in Israel. Alex was serving as a platoon commander in the Givati brigade of the Israel Defense Forces. The date was September 15, 1987, Alex's 25th birthday.

Each year in Israel, as it was yesterday, the nation mourns its fallen soldiers and civilians killed in acts of terror on the day before it celebrates the rebirth of the modern state in 1948.

It's almost 22 years since Alex was killed and yet on this memorial day, and the days following, those who came to know him continued to grow. The collection of Alex's letters and army journals was published in English 12 years ago. The Hebrew translation--page for page the same content--has been available for a little more than a year. And because of them, Alex is known to educators who invite the family to speak to young Jews.

Our son Daniel talked about Alex at a nighttime outdoor ceremony at Jerusalem's Ammunition Hill. Hundreds of young adult Jews from English-speaking countries who have been spending a year in Israel with MASA grants heard seven siblings of fallen soldiers speak about their brothers and sisters. That same night I met with some 15 or so students from Pardes who are spending a year or more studying Jewish texts. I told about our family's decisions, about Alex's life and death. Most important was to read some of Alex's words and those of others about him and to show the quarter hour DVD about Alex. Then to talk together about life choices, his and ours and theirs.

The next day began with a ceremony at the high school Alex attended when he was a boy in Jerusalem. They read the 70 names of their graduates who had died in Israel's wars and two girls gave readings by Alex and by his brother at the time of Alex's death. An hour later we stood by Alex's grave at the military cemetery at Mt. Herzl when the nationwide siren brings everything to a halt for two minutes, even cars on the road whose drivers get out and stand silently. That same afternoon, Max and I spoke to about 80 16-17-year-old Australians and New Zealanders at the Rabin Hostel in Jerusalem. They had just come from a week in Poland visiting the death camps and learning from survivors about the Holocaust. They arrived in time to experience Israel's remembrance of its soldiers whose lives were given to protect the young nation. They were a remarkably serious and attentive group, listening to Alex's story, raising their own dilemmas, speaking seriously with us as they considered their own Jewish lives and what they would make of them.

Still to come is our visit next week to Israeli Bar Ilan University students who will have read Alex's book in an English course. From these young adults we can expect probing questions and challenges. Life in Israel can be joyous but raises serious questions about responsibility to self and nation. Because Alex grappled with these questions, they engage with him through us.

Shortly thereafter we travel to the center of the country to meet with American Jewish Day School seniors who come for their last semester to experience Israel. Again we are the Alex surrogates, telling his story, reading his words and hoping that they will be inspired, as he was to build lives, with Jewish meaning.

(see www.alexsinger.org)