The Day That Altered the Course of Jewish History

The War of Independence, which concluded in 1949, defined the borders of Israel for the subsequent 18 years. The demarcation line ran directly through the heart of the Jewish nation, dividing Jerusalem and effectively severing the nascent state from its ancient history preserved in the hills of Judea and Samaria. The Old City of Jerusalem came under Jordanian control. For 19 years, Jews were denied the opportunity to pray at their most sacred sites — the Temple Mount and the Western Wall. Over this period, a generation came of age having known these places only through accounts and stories, or not at all.

In May 1967, Israel was gripped by the oppressive anxiety of anticipation. The surrounding Arab nations, possessing superior military force, repeatedly threatened a violent end to the Jewish state. For the third time in just decades, the survival of a critical segment of the Jewish people was placed in jeopardy. Once again, the Jewish world faced the indifference of foreign nations, who refused to intervene in the face of an impending genocide, offering nothing more than statements of concern and conditional promises of action should hostility actually commence. The prevailing atmosphere of the time is best captured in extracts from the autobiography of Golda Meir.

“Eshkol, looking grey and worn, began to look around for some diplomatic intervention. That was all we asked for; need I add that we never asked for foreign troops to fight for us? Eban was sent off on a mission to Paris, London and Washington; while at home Eshkol signaled the people that they must prepare, for the third time in nineteen years, to defend their lives. Eban returned with the grim news that our worst fears were confirmed: London and Washington were deeply concerned and sympathetic, but not prepared to do anything. It was a pity, of course, but perhaps the Arab fury would subside. In the meantime, they recommended patience and self-restraint. We must wait and see, and Israel had no alternative but to wait. De Gaulle was even less evasive. No matter what happened, he told Eban, Israel must not take the first step until the Arabs actually attacked. If they did, France would step in and save the day. ‘What if there is no one left to save?’ Eban asked. To this de Gaulle did not care to reply, though he made it very clear to Eban that France's friendship depended entirely on our obedience. Within a matter of days, our very existence was at stake. We were alone, in the literal sense of that terrible word.”

Across Israeli cities, trenches were dug, basements were converted into bomb shelters, public parks were designated for potential mass graves, and hotels were prepared to serve as hospitals for thousands of anticipated casualties.

“There were other grim preparations, too, of which we did not talk: parks in all the cities were consecrated, in case they had to be used as mass cemeteries; hotels were cleared of guests, so that they could be used as giant first-aid stations; emergency stores were compiled in case food distribution had to be centralized; bandages, drugs and stretchers were acquired and distributed.”

Israel prepared for the worst. Yet, there was a shared understanding that defeat was not an option; in the impending war, victory was the only alternative.

“But the military preparations were the most vital, for although we knew by now that we could rely only on ourselves, I do not believe there was a single person in Israel who did not realize that in this war, thrust upon us, there was no alternative. We had to win. What I remember most about those days is the extraordinary sense of unity and purpose that, within hours, transformed us from a small community plagued by economic, social and political difficulties into two and a half million Jews, each of whom felt personally responsible for the survival of the State of Israel, and each of whom knew that the enemy we faced was sworn to our total destruction.”

Yet, no one in Israel could have foreseen how swift and decisive the war would be, earning one of the most prominent and self-explanatory names in military history — the Six-Day War.

The preemptive strike by the Israeli Air Force on June 5, which decisively neutralized the air forces of Egypt, Syria, and Jordan, determined the course of the war. In the days that followed, Israel launched ground operations on all fronts, successfully repelling its adversaries in a matter of days. A paratrooper brigade under the command of Mordechai “Motta” Gur was originally scheduled to be deployed to the Sinai to assault Egyptian forces from the rear. However, due to rapid military progress, that operation became unnecessary, and the unit was reassigned to Jerusalem on the eastern Jordanian front.

The paratroopers, having lost a major operation that promised historic significance, did not yet realize the momentous role they were destined to play. Jordan's entry into the war had remained uncertain; the Israeli leadership had urged King Hussein to stay out of the conflict before and even after hostilities commenced, yet on June 5, fire was opened in Jerusalem.

The battle for the city was fierce. By June 6, however, Israeli forces had reached the walls of the Old City and secured the surrounding high ground. On June 7, the order to storm the Old City was issued. Motta Gur initiated the advance not with standard military directives, but with the words: “We are about to enter the Old City of Jerusalem. For generations, our dreams and thoughts have been directed toward this place. And now, we will be the first to enter it...”

Shortly thereafter, the soldiers entered the Old City, breaching the Lions' Gate, and Motta Gur reported the historic words that the Jewish people had awaited for centuries: “Har HaBayit beYadeinu (The Temple Mount is in our hands).” Accompanying the troops was Kol Yisrael (Voice of Israel) radio reporter Raphael Amir, who, overcome with emotion, uttered words on air that became a verbal monument of that day: “I am not a religious man and never have been... But here I am at the Western Wall, touching its stones...”

In the background of the broadcast, soldiers can be heard chanting the Shehecheyanu blessing of gratitude. For many of them, this was indeed their first time at the Western Wall, and with many comrades having fallen along the way, the sheer sincerity of the Shehecheyanu — “who has kept us alive, sustained us, and enabled us to reach this season” — was profound. The recording also captures the singing of “Jerusalem of Gold” — Naomi Shemer's song, which became the unofficial anthem of the era and of Jerusalem. Following the liberation of the city, a final stanza of return was added to this song of longing, transforming it into the deeply moving and comforting melody known today.

Rabbi Shlomo Goren, the Chief Rabbi of the IDF and perhaps the only one fully conscious of the biblical scale of the moment, pronounced several blessings with a Torah scroll in hand, sounded the shofar repeatedly, and passionately proclaimed: “THIS year in Jerusalem!”, deliberately replacing the traditional Jewish prayer for the future and demanding the arrival of redemption in the present moment...

It would not be Jewish history if these tense, dramatic events, destined for history textbooks, were not accompanied by everyday human irony. The memoirs of Uzi Narkiss, Commander of the IDF Central Command, offer a few brief episodes that cannot fail to bring a smile.

“We returned to the vehicles, switched to jeeps — which were faster and more maneuverable — and dashed forward. A hundred meters from the Sherman tank, where the road ascends from the valley to the Lions' Gate, we encountered another column of paratroopers. At the front of it was running... Rabbi Goren. In his right hand, he clutched a Torah scroll, in his left he held a shofar; his beard was flying in the wind, sweat was pouring down his face, and he was breathing heavily and hoarsely. We slowed down.

— Rabbi, — I called out. — Get in! We are headed to the same place!

— No! — he shouted. — One ascends the Temple Mount on foot!

— Well, then, see you there!”

I pressed the accelerator, and the jeep surged forward. Oh, if only jeeps had wings! But at that moment, ours lacked not only wings, but a wheel... An explosion... The jeep veered, and I struggled to keep control of the steering wheel. What happened to the wheel? The tire had blown to pieces.”

The series of unexpected encounters continued after the city was secured, when President of Israel Zalman Shazar approached Narkiss with a rather direct request:

“We went to the President's residence. He shook my hand, congratulated me on the liberation of Jerusalem, and immediately began: — All the people have already visited the Western Wall, except me. The President of Israel has not been there! — But, Mr. President, there is still gunfire there! Should we risk your life? — I will wear a helmet. — Mr. President, security protocols strictly forbid it...

At that point, Shazar stood up from his desk and stated sternly:

— Young man, the President of Israel must stand at the Western Wall! We are not speaking of Zalman Shazar here. He has lived long enough. What he was destined to accomplish in life, he has already done. But the President of the nation must honor the Western Wall — the holiest site for the entire Jewish people! Revise the security protocols, and let us go.

— And when do you wish to depart?

— Now.

And so we did.”

Aside from the declaration of independence, it is difficult to find another moment of such emotional intensity in modern Israeli history as that of June 7, 1967 (28 Iyar 5727). This date has been celebrated for over half a century as Jerusalem Day.

This day permanently altered the course of Jewish history. Since then, the right of Jews to pray at their most sacred site has been restored. For subsequent generations, the unified city of Jerusalem is perceived as an established reality.

Indeed, we are fortunate to belong to a generation for whom a Jewish Jerusalem is an accessible reality. We are fortunate to be a generation that does not know the treacherous road to the city in the midst of pre-independence battles. We are fortunate to be a generation that has not experienced nineteen years of separation from our ancient heritage. We are fortunate not to know the dread that gripped the nation in May 1967. Yet, it is also impossible for us to fully grasp the profound joy experienced by the generation that endured it all. We cannot fully replicate the immense elevation of spirit felt by the nation on the 28th of Iyar, 5727.

Ultimately, this war fundamentally changed the global perception of the Jewish state. This applied equally to the Jewish diaspora, for whom Israel's struggle prompted deep solidarity — moving from profound anxiety to immense pride. It served as a definitive affirmation that deep in the Middle East, there exists a sovereign Jewish home. Should anyone have doubted it, its permanence was now undeniable, waiting patiently for the return of its people.

By Dmitry Ostrovsky