A little over a month ago, I was asked to be a pallbearer at the funeral of my girlfriend’s grandfather.  I didn’t know the guy she and her family referred to as “Poppy” as well as I would have liked to, but helping lower the last earthly remains of a person into the ground is an honor that no person dare pass up.

Admittedly, I approached my duty with a tinge of apprehension, fueled by my unwavering fear of death and heavy lifting.  I’d never been a pallbearer before, and if I had my way, I’d never need to be again.  It’s death, it’s sad — nobody wants to die, and nobody wants anybody else to die.  But this is life, and in that casket was a dead man that was loved and respected by many, and putting him to rest was the very least I could do to honor his contribution to this world.

I’ve never been that much of a patriot — maybe I’m a bad person for admitting that.  I’m the son of an immigrant, and was brought up to believe that America is the greatest place on Earth, and for the most part, I’ve accepted that it is a far better place than most.  Do I think it has flaws?  Of course.  Our flaws are numerous and sadly, ongoing, but I don’t hate this country, or speak badly of the beautiful ideals it was founded upon.  But would I take a bullet for America?  Would I willingly go to war for America?  Probably not, and to be honest, I don’t know many people like me who would.  My girlfriend’s grandfather was cut from a different cloth, came from a different time, and he decided that the honorable thing to do was sign up for the service, and fight for America in WWII.  The minute the hearse doors opened, I was reminded of his service by the flag draped over his coffin.

My grandfather served our country in the Navy at the same time my girlfriend’s grandfather did.  He was proud of his time there, but once his job was done, he came back to America and started a family, hardly mentioning his time during the war.  I can’t speak for either of these two grandfathers, but I don’t think they decided to put their lives at risk as a Hemingwayesque test of manhood.  They were both Jewish kids who felt it was their duty to serve America.  They knew that “over there” was something horrible, and if not them, then who would sign the dotted line and do what was right and good?  Like thousands of other men and women who have felt that same sense of duty, they are heroes, and they should never be denied that title.  They have earned it, and I sometimes wish I was man enough to do the same.

As the rabbi talked about the life of my girlfriend’s grandfather, he mentioned his dedication to his Jewish faith, his country and most of all, his family.  I spent the rest of the night thinking over that line, and how I’ve spent years criticizing American policy, nationalism, politicians, laws etc.  But that veteran we lowered into the ground earlier that day, he wasn’t concerned with that; he was concerned with the three things the Rabbi mentioned, and I couldn’t help but think that people like that aren’t made everyday.

The post Seriously, Hug A Veteran Today appeared first on Jewcy.

My friends and I walked around the grounds, listening to the old soldiers exchange stories about the war, share memories of their proud homecomings, and give tributes for friends that hadn’t made it back with them. The experience was exceptionally humbling. On the drive back to campus, my friends and I overcame the quiet to confess our lament at having not engaged in some form of national service; the day had highlighted a naturally felt shortcoming in our “love for country” stock. We never spoke about it again. Veterans Day is one of those holidays that afford Americans a rare look inward, especially at the issue of national service. It is also a holiday that is entirely overlooked. Among the four of us in the car that day, I had done the closest thing to national service, albeit abroad. I had spent the previous year before college in Israel where I volunteered for four months in a small town with an emerging economy and took a semester of college classes. That year I experienced life in Israel, a country where most of the people my age were starting their compulsory national service. While service, for many of them, meant the military (the majority of which is non-combat service) or some volunteerism, I could not help but be struck by how enmeshed this rite of passage was in Israeli society. Eight years later, I cannot help but continue to be struck by how badly this commitment to country is needed in the United States today. The Twitter phenomenon has imbued an entire American generation with a self-obsession that rivals the most farcical apologues of classical mythology. More potent than statistics is the sentiment that so little was asked of my generation that the definition of service in America (as once famously prescribed) actually became shopping. Despite this, American volunteerism is currently at one of its highest levels in decades. But across the country, there are still at-risk students who need mentors and after school tutors, our swelling elderly population needs care, and our first responders need back up. The number of illiterate Americans is fast approaching the number of the uninsured. The obesity rate for children in this country has tripled since 1980. America is suffering from an energy crisis of another sort: a dearth of spirit. It’s time to ask for more of the next generation. In Israel, national service is compulsory after high school. Despite a growing percentage of Israeli teens that now shirk that duty, for decades, national service has been a standard part of the adolescent experience there. One upshot is that when Israelis go to college, they are generally two or three years older than American students. In exchange for service, the government pays for college, allowing Israeli students to approach their higher education without the looming specter of spectacular debt. What is certainly more important (and less quantifiable) is the effect that national service has on its participants. Those few years of service offer invaluable perspective for young Israelis leaving home. They witness firsthand the problems in their country. Many become invested in finding solutions. In my experience, if you ask an Israeli for an opinion about an issue in his or her country, you will likely be on the receiving end of a vigorous, well-informed, and impassioned response (often given in his or her second or third language). Or as one Israeli put it: “There is a real feeling here that you serve and therefore have a stake in what goes on.” It would not be an irrational leap of logic to assume that service has something to do with the fact that voter turnout in Israel (a non-compulsory exercise) is generally 15-20% percent higher than in the United States. The Israeli model is not perfect and certainly not perfect for us. But it is an idea that pays dividends in ways we desperately need. And while we continue to be a country that bristles at mandates, obligatory national service is an idea we should approach more thoughtfully, starting today, as we pay tribute to those who have served.

The post Veterans Day: A Call for National Service appeared first on Jewcy.