Resilience or Madness: Israel
Some call it resilience, others think it is absolute madness. I believe it to be both, at the very exact time, and in the only land where this is possible: Israel.
For almost two weeks, twelve days to be precise, the routine of the country was altered by the newest alarming sound going off people’s phones; stating a simple reality that Israelis have learned how to live with:
Someone wants you dead.
Businesses were shut, schools went online, and the first days felt as long as entire weeks. The streets were mostly empty, especially at night, when only the cats would walk around. It was surreal.
Never in one’s life, would someone imagine having to plan their evening shower in advance, in order to avoid any chance of being interrupted by a rocket alert. Nor they would imagine going to sleep wondering how late or frequent the sirens will be.
For twelve long days, life turned into a fever dream.
Yet, right while the morale was supposed to be at its lowest, people kept living with a smile on their faces, and rings under their eyes.
While most businesses were shut, others were thriving. People were eating out for lunch, and cafés became co-working spaces. While schools went online, the younger generation was offering free babysitting services to poor families in need.
In the chaos of continuous rocket barrages launched, some catastrophically succeeded in their intent. As of today, 29 people lost their lives, and over 900 were wounded. With their hearts shattered, people did not wait around. Groups of volunteers were mobilised, going from site to site, with the sole purpose of helping as they could.
Hearing the devastating news of people left homeless, as some buildings were destroyed, people were offering to host them in their houses. An entire network was formed, where people with vacation houses, or simply spare rooms, were matched with others who lost everything.
And then, on the early morning of the 24th of June, while the Israelis were once again seeking shelter, the big news arrived. A ceasefire, on both parts. And life must start again.
How do you go from the absurdity of this war to your ordinary life as nothing has happened?
In the same way as the night of Yom Hazikaron turns into Yom Hatzmaut, from a day of mourning to a day of rejoice and celebration. It just does. Because we have no choice.
Every Israeli and Jew in the diaspora knows it well, as Golda Meir once said “אין לנו ארץ אחרת” (we have no other land). It is a whisper in our hearts, a certainty in the middle of precariousness; even on the 8th of October, when everything seemed lost.
Being lost is one of the many privileges that we never had, and it will never be part of our DNA.
On a phone conversation with my cousin in Italy, she jokingly told me that it is unbelievable to think that we are only in our early 20s, and we have already experienced a pandemic and a war. I laughed, but I initially wanted to repress her. While she is in Italy enjoying her summer, our brave soldiers are fighting on every front, to ensure that our only duty as civilians is to be in the bomb shelter.
Later in the week, particularly after the announcement of the ceasefire, and the resumption of ordinary life, I reflected on her words.
The truth is, with the exponential rise of antisemitism in the world, the war is also fought outside of Israel; where each Jew is presented with the ultimate request, hide their Judaism.
When Jews are scared to wear a magen david, listen to Israeli music, or keep their mezuzot on their front doors. When posting online about Israel becomes controversial, and being scared of your own friends chanting death to your homeland is normalised. The borders of this war expand to all Jews.
Years in the diaspora might deceive into a feeling of safety, but if it encompasses concealing a core part of yourself, is it real safety?
The price of our religious freedom is high, no doubt. Yet given the choice between greeting strangers on the street with a proud “Shabbat Shalom,” or living in fear, forced to fake a food allergy rather than utter the word “kosher” in a restaurant abroad, I will always, and without hesitation, choose the first.
It might be resilience, or it might be absolute madness. One thing is clear, while the Jews spent two thousands years in exile, longing to come back to Jerusalem. All they wished was to go back to Israel as a free nation.
Now I am here, in the same Jerusalem they yearned. And the one privilege I do have, is to wake up tomorrow, work, contribute to society, and LIVE by the Judaism my ancestors desired.
We will not forget the victims of this war, but we will never lose our spirits.
Am Israel Chai.
