Hello friend. And even that cannot be said without it being charged. That's what it's like to be an Israeli Jew. You want to say hello, and thank God everything is already complicated and resonates from contemporary contexts and ancient history. Oh my, Darling.
Not long ago, I saw up close one of the oldest copies of the Bible. I was very moved to see a book from 1,300 years ago at the Museum of the Jewish People, "Anu." But what moved me was to see that even my daughter, of elementary school age, could read it and giggle when she remembered the "Jews are coming" sketches. On the other hand, there is something unbearable about thinking that you are always just one more link in the chain of generations. A necklace with many vertebrae sitting on your shoulder is unbearably heavy and makes it difficult to move away from it.
Several times I found myself sitting in other countries, facing landscapes green with envy, and all I wanted was to be just like that, just like that, without fences and fences, a person sitting in front of a tree - growing slowly, living in its time and dying in the peace of his bed. But inside I knew it was impossible. Not because of the Holocaust and anti-Semitism, or the lack of a Lithuanian passport, but because I am the product of a chain that reminds me every day, every Saturday and every year that every generation owes a person, and all the other Haggadah that we giggle and read to our children every year. That's what it's like to be a modern person who grew up as a member of an unbearably ancient culture.
Demonstration in front of the High Court of Justice // Archive photo
I love-hate the chain that binds me to this people, with all its loves and novels, with all the elite culture and the stupidity of the bottom that we have contributed to the world. Because to be Israeli and Jewish is to be both. And even those who are now threatening to get up and go, or are already doing so in practice, will open their screens from there and wonder what is happening in Israel. How do I know? Because I have quite a few friends who preferred to escape this chain far away. From Iceland to New Zealand, they are there and write about here. Because maybe it is possible to escape this chain physically, but I don't know many who managed to do conscious circumcision, and really managed to stop being both.
And somehow, when it comes to these days of passion, we are a little forgotten about both. These are purist days, which seem to force us to converge on one of two options and there is no one to them, against or in favor. As if this is the façade of everything, and there is no other.
It is especially important these days to mention that those who think differently from me merely think differently from me. When we got caught in traffic this week following a demonstration, my youngest daughter wondered: "Dad, why don't they ask everyone what they think, and then they explain to him what they think, and where he's going wrong, and get off the road and do it on the sidewalk and not block traffic?!"
We have a country of choice
You're right, but is there any point in arguing about an opinion at all? Few people change their minds in an argument. And certainly not when it's run in groups of flying flags, clenched fists and pistols drawn – that's how no opinion changes. So yes, I know that there is a lot of justice in the camp's claims, and there is no doubt that the other side is wrong a lot, but violence does not change opinions, it creates fear, and a loss of hope that this place has a revival, and if there is anything we need these days it is hope and revival.
Not because "we have no other country." We have a country of choice, and we can choose differently. But if you choose it, you have to choose something that will allow us all to live here. And no, you can't really separate into two countries in a country whose name is even larger than its territory on the map.
Just this week I debated whether "loving" is a commandment or a suggestion, whether the meaning of "Vahavat" is to love in addition, and if so then in addition to what, and if it is only a command for the future. Hebrew is a complicated language, both. Love cannot be enforced, but so is hatred. Both options are choices, and right now the choice is ours. We will be, demonstrate, try, change. You don't have to agree, you don't have to love, but we better not hate. Shabbat Shalom.
A letter to an Arab friend. All positions are occupied, please wait for us to finish taking care of ourselves and you will answer by turn.
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