On the eve of Holocaust Remembrance Day, I had an argument on Twitter with a man I admire, the screenwriter and media man Roi Idan.
I was shocked by his statement on Gali Israel radio: "The State of Israel is the most antisemitic state in the Arab world, perhaps in the whole world. Antisemitic incitement, legal discrimination and daily hate crimes against Jews pass quietly by the kingdom. 'Never again'? Did you laugh me?"
Well, Roy is right and wrong.
Is right that the helplessness of the kingdom in the face of the Muslim rioters is a threat to our very existence;
Is right that the word "disgrace" is elevated above the decision to allow the antisemitic demonstration that took place on the eve of Holocaust Remembrance Day on the Temple Mount;
He is right in his distinction that the state is afraid to exercise sovereignty over all parts of the Land of Israel.
But he is very wrong in calling the State of Israel "the most antisemitic state in the Western world."
I do not want to sound condescending, but only an accumulator who has never tasted exile is able to say such a thing.
Only a person for whom the State of Israel is self-evident can think that the miracle we will celebrate on Wednesday evening, the miracle of our independence and sovereignty, is dwarfed by the actions of our enemies.
I was asked on Twitter if there is another Western country where Jews are not allowed to pray in certain places.
This time it's your turn to make me laugh.
Do you know what synagogues in France look like?
Like a military fortress!
Jews hide like mice behind fences to pray.
They take off the dome as soon as they leave the house or synagogue, hide the Star of David and are forced to endure insults and violence.
But I want to touch on a much deeper point than comparisons between the threat to the Jews in exile and the threat in the country.
I want to touch the essence.
The essence is the question of whether the state allows me or prevents me from living my Judaism (not necessarily in the religious sense of the word) in a natural and complete way, or whether I am the "other" in the country where I live.
The first time I got on a bus in Israel, a few days after my aliyah, the radio played a song in Hebrew that until then had been kept in my drawer "songs that are listened to on Saturday night, in the narrow strip of the Jewish radio channel."
A few weeks later, I saw an entire country breathing according to the rhythm of the Hebrew calendar and its holidays: Rosh Hashana, Yom Kippur, Sukkot.
Then came the siren of Holocaust Remembrance Day and Remembrance Day.
An entire country, my country, wakes up in the morning and remembers that it is first and foremost - a people.
For 32 years I have been privileged to live in this miracle of the connection between my Jewish identity and my Israeli identity card.
We get to live and walk within this dream, to breathe it in every breath.
My children were born here, and so was my granddaughter.
They are planted deep deep in the rugs of this earth, confident in themselves and their identity.
They live their lives as Jews without asking many questions.
For them, this is the most natural thing in the world.
How proud I am that they will never move in the world in a "detachment" consciousness.
This naturalness is a great gift.
But we must not get used to it.
Is the least obvious thing imaginable.
Were we wrong?
Fixed!
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