In the shadow of Lebanon's border, six young warriors from Golani fell yesterday. They were barely older than boys - around 20, an age when most of their peers worldwide are wrestling with college assignments, first jobs or trekking around Nepal, because heck why not?
But – these six had already sworn a far weightier oath, one that still echoes against the ancient stones of the Western Wall.
Each of these fallen soldiers once stood at the Kotel, receiving two symbols that capture Israel's essence: a Bible and a gun. One represents our ancient claim to this land, thousands of years of Jewish history held in weathered pages. The other acknowledges the harsh reality that this inheritance must be defended with young lives.
This is the oath they swore:
“I swear and commit to maintain allegiance to the State of Israel, its laws, and its authorities, to accept upon myself unconditionally the discipline of the Israel Defense Forces, to obey all the orders and instructions given by authorized commanders, and to devote all my energies, and even sacrifice my life, for the protection of the homeland and the liberty of Israel."
Recently, and for the very first time, I witnessed the swearing-in ceremony at the Kotel.
Even 17 years later after my own Aliyah, in some ways, I am still very much an immigrant. So I got the shock of my life when I heard them say "And even to sacrifice my life". Did they actually just say that or had my ears tricked me?
But for native Israelis, this is the rhythm of their nation - as familiar as a heartbeat, as sacred as prayer.
Yesterday's news hit differently when you understand what these boys promised that day. They swore to protect our homeland "unconditionally," to "devote all my energies, and even sacrifice my life." Words that might sound like ceremony to outsiders became flesh and blood on Lebanon's soil, dreams for a beautiful life cut down as the another Jewish family accompanies their son to his grave. His grave.
Twenty is so young. Too young to die, we say, but not too young to understand what needs protecting. Not too young to know that their sacrifice ensures that somewhere in Tel Aviv, a child plays freely in a park. That in Jerusalem, prayers continue uninterrupted. That in Haifa, families still gather for Shabbat dinner without fear.
As I write this, another group of young recruits is probably standing at the Kotel, Bible and weapon in hand, voices rising in that same sacred promise. The oath they take isn't just words - as yesterday's losses remind us with devastating clarity, it's a blank check written on their lives, payable to the dream of Jewish sovereignty.
To those who didn't grow up here, like me, the sound of "ANI NISHBA!" might be startling. But to those who did, it's the sound of survival, of determination, of love so fierce it accepts the ultimate price.
Six young men just paid that price. Six families will never be the same. Six more heroes join the ranks of those who kept their oath to the very end.
May their memories be a blessing, and may their sacrifice remind us all what it costs to keep this precious land free.
This article is dedicated to the six Golani hero soldiers who fell in battle in Lebanon yesterday: Itay Marcovich, Dror Hen, Nir Gofer, Yoav Daniel, Sraya Elboim and Shalev Itzhak Sharon.
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