I recently passed by an elementary school I know.
It was morning time, and a host of parents were approaching from all sides, some in the car and some on foot, with children of varying degrees of age and cuteness.
Overall the picture was quite similar to what I remembered from the days when I lived right across the street, and some of the teachers were my friends.
Happy children and embarrassed children.
Children skip and children shuffle.
Those who have not yet awakened, and those who already want to devour the world.
Someone who brought something new that he only received yesterday as a gift and you will know how he will end the day.
Headphones, balls, whispers, and two children rejoicing in front of a friend who has had his hair cut too cropped.
A generic morning in front of a school gate, but something was still very different and disturbing.
It took me a moment and I suddenly realized what had changed: the parents who arrived in the car kept beeping in an angry chorus.
This is a strange thing that did not exist before.
Unpleasant tension accumulated in the air.
Someone parked the car in front of the doorway, blocked the narrow road and most of the sidewalk, and went out like a big man to accompany his princess to second grade.
Angry hands came out of windows and waved angrily.
The rest of the hands pressed the horn with all their might.
The school gate felt like a battlefield.
The sight saddened the heart.
There were days when this prestigious institution marketed itself as a community school.
There was no stopping to talk about parental involvement there, and every morning a few on-duty ushers stood by the gate - mothers and fathers in glowing vests with a cute pair of words printed on them: "Weapons and ride."
They smiled, said good morning and helped the drivers open the doors, take out bags and children and quickly clear the way for the parents in the back.
And yes, in those days it seemed to me that even those in the back were considered friends, or at least colleagues, and not just come on, come on, relax-what-do-you-think-about-yourself-atonement-be-careful-that-I-don't-go-out-on-you.
what happened there?
Who fell asleep on guard?
How does a healthy and strong company that everyone looked at with envy suddenly decide to throw away its most precious asset?
Could it be that it all started with a thoughtless abolition of the parenting tradition, and since then everything has crumbled?
Are we to blame the corona again?
Or the cancellation of the shift itself was just part of a deeper disintegration that ate up what was once a community, and now he is a lot pushed and angry who just wants to be cleared and blown out of sight.
There was something mesmerizing and repulsive about it at the same time.
I could not take my eyes off the "Another Day of Sand" scene in front of the familiar gate and traffic circle, which once had glowing smiles and vests, and soon, if no one recovers, there will be beatings.
It happens sometimes that one particular and unexpected word pops up with surprising frequency.
This is exactly what happened with the word "community".
For many years they seemed to get along without her.
Something in the community sound felt archaic, a bit rustic and a bit kibbutzniki, and many believed that the time for the beautiful but stifling idea had passed.
This is it, we told ourselves, we are all marching towards an urban, industrialized and individualistic future to the bone.
One can regret or rejoice, but what is certain must be reconciled with reality.
Just then, as is well known, there was a turnaround in the plot, and everyone began to speak a community language.
Those who were not interested in a community locality, at least looked for a community school for children.
The phenomenon of communities on social networks caused the word itself to suddenly sound updated and innovative.
LGBT communities, cycling communities, community gardens and WeWork have emerged.
We seemed to have finally found the golden path between contemporary life and the basic need for mutual guarantee, but then, as always, overuse emerged, and every online shopping site began to appeal to customers as a "community."
Here and there we have forgotten that community is neither a consumer product nor a package for subscribers.
Once there is no real commitment, the community collapses and loses self-confidence, and all the beautiful words that adorn the walls of the school become one big, sad blah-blah-blah.
When I looked at the honking parents, I could not help but think of the political culture in Israel.
She, too, like that school, once dreamed big dreams of exemplary society and light for the Gentiles, and became without noticing a concert of nervous sirens, distrust and "fly out of my eyes."
• • •
Last week there was an emotional and loud debate between Minister Issawi Frij and MK Aida Toma Suleiman. The quarrel was supposedly internal Arab, so many Israelis stuck to the old habit and showed little interest. Lentils Fridge accused Thomas Suleiman of cynically using a terrible disaster.They both slammed the classic claim - nothing is sacred to you when you start playing the petty political game.
The issue was the disaster of Kfar Qassem, and the question of whether his legacy should be determined by law.
The MK from the joint knew very well what she was sticking to Issawi Fridge's ribs when she waved in front of him and precisely at this particular event. Fridge, a family member of the Kfar Qassem victims, ended the argument at the Knesset clinic, after not feeling well.
There is no doubt that they both believe that this damn day should not be forgotten and should not be whitewashed 65 years ago, when border fighters shot at 49 civilians living in the village just because of a sudden change in the curfew's schedule. Aida Toma Suleiman proposed a law But with or without regard to a heated debate, none of them paused for a moment to say the obvious, and that is that this event was never forgotten and never neglected.
With or without law, we know.
We remember with shame.
The youth movements and citizenship classes deal with the incident, and recall that concepts such as "blatantly illegal ordinance" or "a black flag hoisted over" were born in the wake of Kafr Qassem.
• • •
I grew up in a religious Zionist home for parents who always voted for right-wing parties.
From them I learned to be ashamed of this event.
From them and my instructors.
And no, I'm not talking about the working youth or Hashomer Hatzair, but about Bnei Akiva.
They told, and detailed, and bowed their heads, as we told and detailed and were ashamed in front of our children.
And I do not think we have acted that way because we are strong.
I think we're strong because we did.
So why pretend someone is trying to whitewash?
Why lie as if only thanks to the joint bills someone in Israel would hear anything about Kfar Qassem?
It is quite clear that the common future of Jews and Arabs on this land depends, among other things, on no one being despised for the pain of another.
One can only hope that in common they intend to treat this principle in a two-way way.
And if one already calls for mental reckoning and bowing of the head, with or without a law, then there is quite a bit of work on the Arab side of the conflict as well, and that is the mother of understatement.
From time to time, there are voices of Arabs, especially young people, who are ashamed of moves such as the White Paper, the persecution of Holocaust survivors or the murderous attacks on the Jewish communities, but it could have been refreshing to hear things in this spirit from MK Thomas Suleiman.
shishabat@israelhayom.co.il
