By Lieutenant General Herzi Halevi, Chief of Staff of the IDF

Among the many fallen whose memory we will honor this week the figure of Yonatan Boyden rises within me. Yonatan, Zichro livracha, immigrated with his parents from Britain as a young man. I first met him when he came to me for an interview In the Orev unit of the paratroopers. When he spoke of his desire to be a warrior and protect the country he came to, I saw a sparkle in his eyes. I received him very warmly and knew he would be an excellent fighter and a good comrade in arms. Yonatan was seriously wounded in the battle at Jebel Sojud in the north of the Security Strip in Lebanon and died of his wounds in a few days. He loved life and was ready to risk it for the country.

Our independence is shaped in this place, where the choice in life meets the willingness to give it up for the defense of the country. I understand closely, and every time again, how much Jonathan's dear family hurts his fall. Like his family, many families in Israel are hurting, because the bereaved has no address; Bereavement may knock on the door of every family whose sons and daughters serve in the army.

Memorial Day establishes a deep connection between the personal and the national. This year, precisely in the shadow of tensions, we must focus ourselves on the personal memory and wrap ourselves in the human strength that is in this memory. The memorial decree obliges us to unite around him and focus on the connection between us. We must all respect the cemeteries and not turn them into an arena of debate. In restraint and silence there is a great power, and communion with our fallen loved ones cannot to exist under the noise of debate.

Thirty years have passed since Jonathan fell for the land he loved. The price he and many others paid When they gave their lives, and the price their families paid in the death of their loved ones, oblige us to be worthy of it. At the moment of communion each of us carries the image of a fallen person. During the ceremonies we to reduce ourselves to the pain of the loss of communion and cling to the loss as a shield from all other noise.

Just to remember, to hurt

and respect

even for a moment.

Even for one holy day.

*Translated from Hebrew by Mati Cohen