Eulogy for Omer Hermesh, by his Brother Lino Hermesh
30 days to Omer’s Death, Nov. 17th 2023
“Hamas suffered a heavy blow”. This was one of Omer's favorite clichés.
If it was up to me or him - that was the sentence we would have engraved on his tombstone.
I have no doubt that would have pleased him.
There is a situation, and even a reasonable situation, that Omer would have taken this concept one step further. More in the direction of - "Omer Hermesh, murdered by Hamas in cooperation of the Israel Corporation". After all, this was almost his last message.
A prophet of wrath he was. A grotesque soul, full of grace and tormented at times, moving on the seam line between the comic and the tragic. It was easy to paint him as eccentric, extreme, obsessive. All this is true. But there was always a stubborn seed of truth there. of sharp and multi-dimensional observation. of sensitivity and a rare ability to feel the finer layers of reality. of intuition and original thinking. of painful honesty to hide or be ashamed of.
His directness was at times disturbing and at the same time arousing astonishment and admiration for many. Sad clown, Joker. Preacher at the gate. The boy pointing at the naked king. The one that will never grow up, the one that dogs and children – as innocent as him - touched his heart and he touched theirs. The one who always sympathizes with the weak. The one who was busy day and night with real or imaginary wars. Strikes without a malicious intent at others and especially at himself. Breaks records of cynicism, bitterness, honesty and humor. Lives on borrowed time, indifferent to his fate, feeds on chaos, self-righteousness and the love of his friends and family.
His heart was pure and honest. and gentle and vulnerable. His heart could barely stand the last three years. He increasingly shut himself between 4 walls, in his own company. With the records and the weed. The world is gradually becoming less nice for the sensitive, for individuals. Walking in the allowed path and complying to authority became “the oral Torah” (the new normal). and Omer turned his back on it all. He didn't wear a mask just because a sneeze is the new nuclear bomb. He didn't give a shoulder just because Simon said or because you get a pizza as a gift. He did not dress up as a slave, he did not block the Ayalon (highway) and did not chant “democracy or shame”. It all felt like nonsense to him. a charade. an empty lie. Brainwashing. Diversion and plagiarism. Divide and rule. And he didn't bother to hide his feelings from the public. For him it was all a crusade. He abhorred anything that did not align with his quiet inner voice. He listened to his gut, an almost extinct art nowadays. He knew the revolution won’t be televised. And to him, while the crowd is barking up the wrong tree, his country, which is no longer his, will sell him and everyone else out. It's only a matter of time, he used to say, until they spared our blood, enslave us. Until everything is taken from us.
Unfortunately, he was not really wrong. His and our blood were allowed. They betrayed us. They betrayed my dear father and mother. They betrayed Omer, who didn't even bother to enter the safe room when the siren went off, who preferred to wear a headband and play Mashina (rock band) at full volume every time the missiles were aimed at the kibbutz. Omer was killed. But you can be sure of one thing - he did not beg for his life. He provoked and chose to defy his murderers even in his last moments. He never counted on living 120 years. He was always among us as if in a moment he would no longer be with us.
“If you are going through hell - keep going” - this sentence appears repeatedly this past month.
So we're all somehow together here. Going through hell. At least we can all agree on that. We are barely walking, tumbling through this valley of the shadow of death. We are all here. Our deceased loved ones are with us. hovering above. Not in a hurry to say goodbye. As well as our kidnapped loved ones. As well as our physically injured friends. as well as all of us. Each one of us - the living dead – walking stricken, with a scarred soul, can’t comprehend. Our body is heavy, layers of ice around our broken heart. Ranging from despair to pain to rage to indifference, again and again. On the edge. Homeless, displaced people. Every day feels like a year. We hang on to rare glimpses of grace, to a child's smile, the help of a friend, the presence of those who survived the massacre; we hang on to small moments of dark humor, in a glass a quarter full.
Millions of human beings sleepwalking, struck in a shock. Here and in Gaza. Forced to take part in this terrible blood game of the dark forces. A nightmare. Led like sheep to the slaughter by despicable rulers guided by the devil. Can't digest what will become of life and how to move on from here. In addition, humanity at its peak - the rest of the world around us - chooses a side. Cheering, cursing, demonstrating. Making for and against arguments. Stoking the fire, the hatred, division, and revenge. Distracted by the state media. Like they're all watching some twisted football game.
And now, who would have believed - we also have our own holocaust. Holocaust in color. Holocaust in Go Pro cameras. Live Holocaust. A holocaust of WhatsApp groups desperate for help, and of raging social media. with myths. and bravery. And ‘where was God’, and ‘fire brothers, fire’. and ashes and dust, and soon enough we’ll have our Mordechai Anilvic and our Hanna Senesh and Anne Frank. and the music. and the songs. and the ceremonies. and the monuments. and the “never again”. History repeats itself, more cruel and cynical than ever. History cooks us a holocaust with a taste of the past but with a modern twist. Holocaust 2.0 if you will. Holocaust on behalf. A homemade holocaust. A holocaust of full cooperation between the dark forces outside, and the forces of evil within.
Our sons and daughters were slaughtered with a cruelty that the heart could never bear. In a moment the initial shock and grief will pass. Then the deep sadness will take root. Emptiness will enter through the front door, followed by rage. The rage of a mother who lost her children. The rage of orphans. Rage that this country may not have seen before. A new generation will arise. Their voices are already heard. Steady and determined voices. Voices that will cry out for the blood of our brothers and sisters until the earth trembles and turns its face. Until every ruler and position holder who betrayed our people - pays the price. Until we push them out from within us.
We will investigate them one by one and not let go - where were you for 8 hours? Who committed treason? Who sold our people and our families? Who forsaken their blood? Who allowed the Gaza envelope holocaust? Who cleared the way for the Hamas monsters?
We will ask all security establishment leaders - the chief of staff, the head of the Shin Bet, the head of the Intelligence Forces, the Mossad, the Air Force, Southern command, Gaza command, division commanders, senior commanders, whoever was sitting in the headquarters: Where were you?? Up until two years ago, every one of them knew how to locate, trace, and quarantine any innocent asymptomatic Covid carrier. A month ago, dozens of Toyotas and tractors disappeared from their radar despite months of warnings.
We will ask the establishment mainstream media channels. The government media messengers: Who silenced you? Who talked to you? What could you have done that you didn't? Any victory photos you give us now on behalf of the IDF spokesman and your other sponsors will not help. We have already lost the most valuable of all.
All the ministers, the members of parliament who gain political capital from this event. Those not asking the truly important questions. Trying hard to collect votes under the auspices of mourning. We will hold you to account.
We will ask all of you here and now - what do you think about every night when you go to sleep? About the disaster that happened on your watch? About those who betrayed? About who could sell our people and our families? About those who shed their blood? You all must have some idea - who allowed the Gaza envelope holocaust?
And lastly: The mega rogue. Bibi. The ‘Evil Haman’ but our own. Blue and white. The grief architect. The executioner. The divisive. The furniture dealer who long ago sold his soul and heart to the devil; He received a task to finish off this country and to his credit he stuck to the mission. We will not forget nor forgive. We’ll persecute justice. We will haunt you until your last day, which will be a very happy day.
When I started writing the obituary for Omer, I was looking for comfort, I was looking for a light at the end of the tunnel, I was looking for something along the lines of “in their death they commanded us to live”. Unfortunately, I'm not there yet. I have a hard time finding comfort. Hard to understand.
One day this too shall come: The understanding. The gratitude. Maybe even some kind of forgiveness. But until then, we’ll pursue justice. Together we will defeat the enemy outside and no less the enemy within. At least we will ease Omer and the other angels’ hearts. Their death was also the death of the great darkness and the beginning of a human dawn that is beyond our knowingness.
—End
Original video credits: Civil Press by Ilyan Marshak and Avivit Hadar.
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Omer Hermesh, the Boy Pointing at the Naked King