Sunday evening, on the anniversary of the murder of former Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin, certain individuals, perhaps more than a handful, are overcome with a sense of bitterness. This, we all know, has become an exceedingly useful term in the discourse of the day. To be clear: bitterness; not its opposite, elevation (in the spiritual sense). This is how one citizen feels and perhaps how many others feel, as well.
The spirit of this remembrance day is gradually shifting direction, and that direction, regretfully and shamefully, is toward a regular weekday, just another day. The legislator and state institutions have appropriately and justly imparted protocol for memorializing Rabin: a candle lighting ceremony at the President's Residence, a ceremony at Mount Herzl and a special Knesset memorial session. On Sunday, however, we saw divisions and political head-butting rear their heads, with very little room for stateliness. Yes, it's hard to determine who's responsible for this. Maybe it's politicians incapable of shedding their daily politicking, which is often ugly. Some of the things that were said publicly in memory of Rabin could have been heard any other day of routine wrangling at the Knesset, sans the poetic phrasing.
Would it be completely absurd to say that on this sacrosanct day of remembering the murder of a prime minister, there was an atmosphere of elections? Have we reached this point? The bickering was so sharp and undeniable that some speakers didn't even bother issuing a clarification or qualification that they "didn't mean it." All understood, however, that the arrows of rhetoric they fired on Sunday were soaked in political poison. It was a secular, stately, important event, yet they also brought up the issue of Jordan's demand to return lands leased to Israel. And the prime minister clearly stated how he will respond to this development.
And why, of all times and places, on Rabin's memorial day? Obviously: Jordan's demand, whether intentional or not, came on the anniversary of Rabin's murder. There was also squabbling over the nation-state law, Netanyahu's performance, and more. They didn't forego the mundane, ugly politics yesterday, a day that should be sacrosanct, reserved, and maybe, excuse me for saying, stately. Noa Rothman, Rabin's granddaughter, saw fit to mention that an employee at the Prime Minister's Office drew a pasquinade of Rabin's handshake with Yasser Arafat, with the title: "Treason." The denial was short to follow. And we are left asking: Why can't we transcend ourselves on this hallowed day? We have a year to foster the change we desire before the next memorial day. Really, can't we do better?
