The late Benaya Rhein was killed in the Second Lebanon War in a tank with a crew that reflects both Israeli-ness and the IDF as the people's army.
Benaya was killed when he volunteered for the war. He was supposed to be on leave between assignments, but couldn't stay home. He went up north and did not stop pressuring his commanders until they gave him a tank and a special crew. And this tank crew, without receiving an order, decided to do what was necessary. If food needed to be brought, they would bring combat rations to the fighters at the front. If maps were needed – no problem. Need to rescue the injured? They will go anywhere. Soon the rumor about the "Benaya Force," the tank crew that comes to help, spread among the reservists who fought on the eastern front in Lebanon, in the area of the village of Taybeh. After he was killed, the soldiers of the reserve paratroopers brigade came to his house in Karnei Shomron, and there, in the living room of Benaya’s mother, Hagit, they quietly thanked him.
Benaya, a religious soldier from the settlement of Karnei Shomron, commanded a crew whose special composition almost seems to have been put together by a playwright who wanted to illustrate why the IDF is still the people's army. Benaya’s tank crew included Sgt. Alex Bonimovich, an immigrant from Russia; Sgt. Adam Goren, a secular kibbutznik; and Sgt. Uri Grossman, a sabra from Jerusalem, son of the acclaimed and sharply critical leftist writer David Grossman.
If they were alive today, it is likely that the four would argue passionately about the judicial revolution. But they are not here. The space they left behind them is mute. The communion with their memory is quiet and still. And I, who loved Benaya, my soldier who will not return, ask myself today if there is any meaning to this symbolism. Does it command us in any way?
Had the story of their death been a fictional work of art, we would have understood on our own the profound message of the partnership of fate, friendship, and brotherhood. There would be no need to explain the connection between the reservists and the regular soldiers, and between those from the settlements and those from the kibbutz. But this is not fiction; this is reality. And given today’s charged and polarized atmosphere, any attempt to learn a lesson from this story might immediately be tagged and cataloged with, "Are you for us or against us." And any recommendation to be taken concerning the reality of our lives might be interpreted in this light. Therefore, I will not do this today. I will let the story of Benaya’s crew rest before you in peace; I will let the silence speak, and I will let the reader draw the conclusion. And I, on Memorial Day, will commemorate my friends and the soldiers under my command who did not return. And with great concern for the future of the State of Israel, I will continue to commit to work for the peace, security, and prosperity of the State of Israel as a Jewish and democratic state in the spirit of the Declaration of Independence.
The late Benaya Rhein was killed in the Second Lebanon War in a tank with a crew that reflects both Israeli-ness and the IDF as the people's army.
Benaya was killed when he volunteered for the war. He was supposed to be on leave between assignments, but couldn't stay home. He went up north and did not stop pressuring his commanders until they gave him a tank and a special crew. And this tank crew, without receiving an order, decided to do what was necessary. If food needed to be brought, they would bring combat rations to the fighters at the front. If maps were needed – no problem. Need to rescue the injured? They will go anywhere. Soon the rumor about the "Benaya Force," the tank crew that comes to help, spread among the reservists who fought on the eastern front in Lebanon, in the area of the village of Taybeh. After he was killed, the soldiers of the reserve paratroopers brigade came to his house in Karnei Shomron, and there, in the living room of Benaya’s mother, Hagit, they quietly thanked him.
Benaya, a religious soldier from the settlement of Karnei Shomron, commanded a crew whose special composition almost seems to have been put together by a playwright who wanted to illustrate why the IDF is still the people's army. Benaya’s tank crew included Sgt. Alex Bonimovich, an immigrant from Russia; Sgt. Adam Goren, a secular kibbutznik; and Sgt. Uri Grossman, a sabra from Jerusalem, son of the acclaimed and sharply critical leftist writer David Grossman.
If they were alive today, it is likely that the four would argue passionately about the judicial revolution. But they are not here. The space they left behind them is mute. The communion with their memory is quiet and still. And I, who loved Benaya, my soldier who will not return, ask myself today if there is any meaning to this symbolism. Does it command us in any way?
Had the story of their death been a fictional work of art, we would have understood on our own the profound message of the partnership of fate, friendship, and brotherhood. There would be no need to explain the connection between the reservists and the regular soldiers, and between those from the settlements and those from the kibbutz. But this is not fiction; this is reality. And given today’s charged and polarized atmosphere, any attempt to learn a lesson from this story might immediately be tagged and cataloged with, "Are you for us or against us." And any recommendation to be taken concerning the reality of our lives might be interpreted in this light. Therefore, I will not do this today. I will let the story of Benaya’s crew rest before you in peace; I will let the silence speak, and I will let the reader draw the conclusion. And I, on Memorial Day, will commemorate my friends and the soldiers under my command who did not return. And with great concern for the future of the State of Israel, I will continue to commit to work for the peace, security, and prosperity of the State of Israel as a Jewish and democratic state in the spirit of the Declaration of Independence.