Here lie their bodies, ours, soldiers, policemen, women, the elderly and children, and Uri Zvi Greenberg's "Every Day Funeral," from other years of terror, becomes before our eyes "daily funerals," unbearable. And the eulogies—heartbreaking, and the stories—are full of majesty and horror, and the black hole goes deeper and deeper.
Observer Roni Eshel, who served at the Nahal Oz base and lost contact with her
And in another universe, many years ago, there was one memorable eulogy about Roi Rothberg, a member of Kibbutz Nahal Oz, who was murdered by Palestinian infiltrators from the Gaza Strip, words that seem to have been written for those days, when Nahal Oz turned him into a killing valley. Rothberg was the security coordinator in the area. Palestinian infiltrators murdered him, dragged him across the border and mutilated his body. His funeral took place on April 30, 1956, and then-Chief of Staff Moshe Dayan stood at his grave and delivered a short eulogy; Identically formative words that seem to have been written just yesterday.
"... Not from the Arabs in Gaza, but from ourselves we will ask for Roi's blood," Dayan lamented. "How did we close our eyes from staring hard at our fate, from seeing the destiny of our generation in all its cruelty? Have we forgotten that this group of youths, sitting in Nahal Oz, carries on its shoulders the heavy gates of Gaza, gates beyond which hundreds of thousands of eyes and hands are crowded, praying for our weakness to come, so that they can tear us to shreds – have we forgotten this? We know that in order for hope of our destruction to perish, we must be, morning and night, armed and prepared.
Fighters near the Gaza Strip, photo: AP
"We are the settlement generation, and without the steel cap and the muzzle of the cannon, we will not be able to plant a tree and build a house. Our children will have no life if we don't dig shelters, and without barbed wire and a machine gun we won't be able to pave a road and drill water. The millions of Jews who were exterminated without a land are watching us from the ashes of Israeli history, commanding us to settle and establish a land for our people. But beyond the border furrow rises a sea of hatred and desire for revenge, which awaits the day when we listen to the ambassadors of harassing hypocrisy calling on us to lay down our arms."
This is the decree of our generation – ready and armed
"To us, Roy's blood cries out from his torn body," Dayan continued. "Even though we vowed that our blood would not be shed in vain, yesterday we were again tempted, listened and believed. We will settle our account with ourselves today. We must not shy away from seeing the hatred that accompanies and fills the lives of hundreds of thousands of Arabs sitting around us, waiting for the moment when their hand will be able to obtain our blood. Do not turn our eyes lest our hand be weakened. This is the decree of our generation. This is the choice of our lives – to be ready and armed, strong and rigid, or to drop from our fist the sword and cut off our lives..."
A dog near the protected area near the Gaza Strip, photo: None
Last Simchat Torah morning, terrorists from Gaza also infiltrated Nahal Oz, the first Nahal settlement in Israel, broke into homes, massacred kibbutz residents and murdered entire families, including the family of Israel Hayom photographer Yaniv Zohar. The kibbutz that fought for its existence in the War of Independence seems to have returned to the days of no state, days when almost everything was no man's land, without a protector or a savior.
"Do not turn our eyes lest our hand be weakened," Dayan eulogized Roi Rothberg 67 years ago, and we – first on Yom Kippur 1973, then in the May 2021 pogroms and now on Simchat Torah <> – turned our eyes, and our hands and minds weakened, and many died. But as in the past, after the mourning, tears and shock, after we bury our dead, we too will rise from dust and build and repair. We have no other choice.
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