On the evening of Yom Hazikaron (English: "Memorial Day") I was walking down the Arab Shuk corridor in the Old City of Jerusalem. The official ceremony to light the memorial flame at the Western Wall had just ended, and most of the guests had cleared out for the night. The air was still and the metal gates to each store were drawn shut (as everything in the city closed before sundown in preparation for the holiday).
The shuk was empty save a few Israeli soldiers on security watch who were stationed along the long narrow path leading down to the Temple Mount. As I strolled down the seemingly endless path, the cold stone arches were lit by a warm yellow glow from the street lamps.
Dressed in my black suit and fiddle cap, I continued to walk down the path and began to play the Israeli National Anthem on Raphael (my violin). The notes echoed through the market tunnel. I was so proud Raphael and I could create music in the same corridors that carried countless years of history in its walls. A flood of emotion came over me as I reached the end of the song. Little did I know that the experience I was about to have in the next three minutes would be even more powerful...
Just around the last corner of the Arab market that leads into the Jewish Quarter stood more than a dozen IDF Infantry Soldiers scattered haphazardly under an archway dressed in full ceremonial uniform. Before I turned the corner and saw these soldiers, I thought to myself that I would play "The Hatikva" (Egnlish: "The Hope" and the Israeli National Song) one more time before I reached the Western Wall Courtyard. Just as I began the first notes of the anthem, I turned the corner to come face to face with this battalion of soldiers.
As they recognized their Nation's Song of Hope, their chatter quickly ended and the entire group formed two straight lines standing at attention. Their commander signaled to remove their hats. All listened and saluted the notes that Raphael sung to signify the 60th year of celebrating the Jewish Homeland.
Seeing them saluting in uniform gave me a glimpse into my future - As part of becoming an Israeli citizen I will be required to enlist in active duty at some point over the next 3 years.
2 comments:
that be pretty heavy man. ...I still think it may be a little too Disney influenced to call your violin "Raphael" though, but let's not go there...
Actually, my violin got the name Raphael long before I worked at Walt Disney World. I named my violin "Raphael" because of the Hebrew translation of Raphael - Healing. And my violin has brought myself and many others peace of mind.
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