Last week, I went for a musical stroll down memory lane – or, more precisely, through the beautiful stone halls and ramparts of Jerusalem’s Tower of David Museum.
With all due respect to the Russian composer Mussorgsky, it’s not often you find yourself putting music to “Pictures at an Exhibition,” but it was hard not to sing along during this particular press tour. The occasion was the launch of Yehoram Gaon – The Exhibition.
Gaon, 85, has been described as a “singer, actor, filmmaker, and cultural icon whose work has shaped Israeli identity for more than seven decades.” Jerusalem Mayor Moshe Lion, who initiated the exhibition, called his longtime friend and Israel Prize laureate “the soundtrack of Israeli life.”
Something curator Tal Kobo said really struck a chord: “At the heart of this exhibition is the interplay between personal and collective memory… We often think of personal memory – ‘my’ story, ‘my’ past – as entirely separate from ‘our’ collective memory.
“Yet when Gaon speaks about moments in his life – such as his family gathering around the radio on November 29, 1947, listening to the United Nations vote to adopt the Partition Plan for Palestine; the War of Independence; the reunification of Jerusalem after the Six Day War; or about the Nahal [IDF entertainment] troupe; or [the movie] Kazablan – he moves between his story and ours.”
It’s not just the stories; we all know songs that bring back memories. I was in the mood for nostalgia, both personal and national. This month marks the 46th anniversary of my aliyah, when I unapologetically became part of the biblical Ingathering of the Exiles. I’m less naive than I was as an 18-year-old high school graduate – who isn’t? – but I don’t regret my kitschy kissing of the tarmac at Ben-Gurion Airport after leaving England for good.
My homecoming is, of course, my strongest personal memory from 1979, but in the global scheme of things, Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini’s return from exile in Paris to Tehran and the fall of the shah was the biggest event. The Iranian Revolution and the creation of the Islamic Republic changed the world.
When I arrived, the country was still traumatized by the 1973 Yom Kippur War. Although Gaon crooned, “I promise you, my little girl, that this will be the last war,” the First Lebanon War of 1982 was just around the corner.
There have been many more wars and waves of terrorism since then. Exactly 50 years after the Yom Kippur War, Iranian-sponsored Hamas perpetrated its devastating invasion and mega-atrocity on October 7, 2023.
Just last month, we spent 12 days of a “war within a war,” rushing to bomb shelters day and night as the Islamic Republic unleashed missiles and killer drones on the Jewish state. The Israeli success in reducing – if not eliminating – the threat of ballistic missiles and nuclear warheads (with US help) will be studied by military strategists and historians for years, much like the astounding success of the 1967 Six Day War.
Iran’s supreme leader, Ali Khamenei, extended the sphere of influence to Iraq, Syria, and Lebanon, and on to Yemen, nurturing terrorist proxies that include Hamas, Palestinian Islamic Jihad, Hezbollah, and the Houthis. But this map has changed in almost inconceivable ways in the past year.
To the frustration and fury of its enemies, Israel fought back after October 7, setting off a chain reaction that led to a new government in Lebanon and a new regime in Syria. And it’s time the world realized that the Houthi rockets and piracy in the Red Sea are not Israel’s problem alone. Gaza, too, needs international help to be free of Hamas oppression.
Tower of David museum director and chief curator, Eilat Lieber, noted that the exhibition, which runs until December, marks a comeback after the dark days of war. “This is more than an exhibition; it’s a celebration of Israeli identity through the lens of one of its greatest artists,” Lieber enthused.
One particularly strong collective memory is the Entebbe rescue. In 1976, Palestinian terrorists hijacked a plane and held mainly Jewish and Israeli passengers, and some crew members, captive at Uganda’s Entebbe airport. Menachem Golan’s movie Operation Thunderbolt tells the story of the dramatic rescue. Gaon’s role as commander Yonatan (Yoni) Netanyahu brought him to the attention of an international audience.
The theme song “Eretz Tzvi” (“Land of the Deer”), performed by Gaon to lyrics by Talma Alyagon Rose and music by Dubi Seltzer is almost an anthem, albeit a poetic one: “At midnight they arose/ And struck at the end of the world/ Like sparks they rushed, flying far and fast/ To bring human dignity back/ To the Land of Israel/ to the honey of its fields/ to the Carmel and the desert/ to a nation that will not be silenced/ and will not abandon its sons to a stranger.”
The Entebbe rescue, in which Yoni Netanyahu fell, was not simple. Far from it. It was an unprecedented bold operation. Instead of acceding to the demands for the release of some 50 terrorists, the Rabin government risked the lives of nearly 200 elite soldiers but succeeded in saving the lives of more than 100 hostages. It caused a wave of almost euphoric pride in Israel and the Diaspora and is one of the most powerful memories of my teens.
Watching a video of Gaon recalling this period, wearing a yellow pin for the 50 hostages still being held in terror tunnels in Gaza after nearly two years, the heart yearns for some awe-inspiring heroic deed that could bring them all home and grant closure and healing.
It’s small wonder that “Eretz Tzvi” and another Gaon hit, “Lo tenatzchu oti” (“You will not defeat me”), are enjoying renewed popularity. Incidentally, more than 45,000 immigrants have arrived since October 7, 2023. The increase in antisemitic attacks abroad has made Israel stronger. Perversity in adversity.
Locally, Gaon’s best-known movie is Kazablan, set in the early days of the state. He plays the eponymous immigrant seeking respect in a time of tense relations between Sephardi and Ashkenazi Jews. The film gave birth to a string of enduring hits, including “Kol hakavod” and “Rosa.”
Gaon’s television career includes the sitcom Sabri Maranan, which ended in March after almost 14 years. The show offered a humorous take on Ashkenazi-Sephardi family dynamics at Friday night dinners. It’s an example of how the ethnic divide has shrunk over the years, and nearly every family has “intermarried” relatives.
In the early 1980s, he also played a role in Krovim, Krovim, considered to be the country’s first TV sitcom. The plot focused on an extended family living in a Tel Aviv apartment building. I remember it fondly as a fun way to learn Hebrew.
Although he hasn’t lived in the capital for decades, Gaon is considered the quintessential Jerusalemite. His film Ani Yerushalmi, (I’m a Jerusalemite), created in the heady days after the Six Day War, is an accolade to the people, neighborhoods, and scenery that make the Holy City, Israel’s capital, so special.
Many of his hits are a mixture of prayer and love song to Jerusalem, among them: “Hineini Kan,” about “the man who always returns,” or “From the summit of Mount Scopus.” Listening to Gaon’s music from the museum’s Phasael Tower, with its spectacular view of Jerusalem, is an experience in its own right.
Gaon is clearly nostalgic when looking back on his childhood home in Jerusalem’s Beit Hakerem neighborhood. His father, Moshe David Gaon, was an educator, writer, and rabbi who was born in Sarajevo, Bosnia, to a family exiled during the Spanish Inquisition, with strong ties to Jerusalem. His mother, Sarah Hakim, was born in Turkey.
As was common in those communities at the time, both families spoke Ladino. Gaon, together with late president Yitzhak Navon, can be credited with the cultural revival and preservation of the Judeo-Spanish language.
Still active, Gaon’s drive and passion echo his much-loved Naomi Shemer song “Od Lo Ahavti Dai” (“I’ve Not Yet Loved Enough.”) Cue for a song – and a dance.
The exhibition route ends with a glass studio where visitors can record a video of one of Gaon’s many hits, karaoke-style, to take home as a souvenir. For, in the words of yet another Gaon classic, “Lo nafsik lashir” – “We won’t stop singing.”