David Rokni

To know David was to know the steady, warm glow of a torch held high against the gathering dark. For nearly forty years, Israel knew him as the dignified colonel who commanded the Independence Day ceremony on Mount Herzl, his voice carrying across the Jerusalem hills as he passed the flame from one generation to the next. But to us, he was simply David—a man of profound principle and surprising gentleness, whose own life was a quiet ceremony of love, duty, and unwavering connection. His uniform was pressed with military precision, but his home was a sanctuary of softness. I can still see him in his favorite worn armchair, surrounded by the laughter of his grandchildren, his stern commander’s face melting into a grin as he taught them how to properly fold a flag or told stories of the young country he helped build. He was a rock for his beloved wife, a partner in every sense, and a father who showed his love not through grand gestures, but through his constant, silent presence—always there to fix a broken toy, to listen, or to simply hold a hand. He found his purest joy in these small, sacred moments: the smell of his wife’s Friday evening cooking, the sound of his children’s voices around the Shabbat table, and the pride in his eyes as he watched the next generation grow. David’s passion was legacy. He dedicated his life to ensuring the story of Israel was never forgotten, first as a soldier and then as the ceremonial keeper of the flame. He understood that a nation’s heart beats in its traditions, and he guarded that heartbeat with ceremonial grace. His impact reached far beyond the mountaintop. He mentored young officers with the same patience he showed his own family, instilling in them a sense of purpose that went beyond orders. To countless Israelis, his familiar figure on the television screen was a symbol of continuity and hope—a reminder that from the bravery of the past,