There was a time when I celebrated Israel’s Independence Day with unalloyed pleasure, rejoicing in the knowledge that we finally had our own country, where all Jews can find sanctuary and make their home. Coming after two thousand years of exile and persecution, this was not to be sneezed at. So, whether I was in Israel (as I have been for the last sixty years) or abroad, I registered the day in my calendar as one of joy.

As we have been doing for many years, Yigal and I celebrated Israel’s Independence Day with a few friends in our garden. This year we were eight people, most of us over seventy, though still fully functioning, and were blessed with clement weather. We sat in our garden and enjoyed chatting to one another as we ate the meat Yigal cooked on our barbecue. I could sum the atmosphere up in the untranslatable German word ‘gemütlich,’ which I sometimes heard my late parents use to describe social events in their home.

However, when it comes to describing the events and atmosphere marking the eve of Independence Day, words almost fail me. The ceremony marking the end of the Day of Remembrance for fallen soldiers and the start of the Independence Day celebrations has always had to tread a fine line between sadness and joy, combining national pride with individual loss. In the past, the delicate balance between the two was managed with skill and tact, but in the last few years, it has been increasingly overshadowed by political maneuvering and an insensitive focus on Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu.

The situation has become so intolerable that an ‘alternative’ ceremony has been instituted by people who are repelled by the tone of the official one. In the past, I would happily watch the broadcast of the official ceremony on television, enjoying the sense of unity and national pride. This year, however, like many other people, I preferred other fare, and found a funny movie to watch instead. No TV channel broadcast the alternative ceremony, though I heard later that it was inspiring. A friend who started watching the official ceremony on TV switched off after a few minutes, feeling ‘sickened and dismayed.’

So over the years, my feelings have been modified. The recent – and still-current – war has worn down our ability to rejoice. Israel is still standing, but the cost of the war is mounting, in both pecuniary and general terms. We civilians have been living in a constant state of nervous tension, having to run to air-raid shelters for days and nights on end, never knowing when we can go shopping, take a shower or visit friends. Our grandson’s planned wedding had to be restricted to the token fifty persons permitted to attend any function. And he is not alone in having had to alter his plans. Thus, although the official ceremony was held as planned, and we celebrated the occasion in a spirit of joy, we hope the rescheduled party can still go ahead later in the year.

The problem is, there’s no knowing whether the current ceasefire imposed by Donald Trump will hold, whether the peace talks with Lebanon will continue or what path Benjamin Netanyahu wants the war to take. Living with a constant sense of uncertainty is not conducive to a peaceful and happy life, which is what we all want for ourselves and our families.

So we do our best to stay calm and appreciate the good things of life. The problem is that there’s a dark cloud hanging over us all the time, and no one knows what the future will bring.

© The Times of Israel (Blogs)