Until my country opens her eyes

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This week’s peaceful sit-in near me reverberated with the phrase “Ain li eretz acheret, (I have no other country)” a lament for the country that claims our identity. It is a song of sorrow for a place that has let us down over and over, and still wants our undying love. For that evening, the community of Majdal Shams, at the Syrian border, was included in the general tears and anger at a state that lets its citizens suffer and die because its government cannot commit to putting them above political ambition.

“Those children [the twelve killed in a rocket attack just hours before the regular Saturday-night protests and demonstrations] only wanted to play soccer in their own country,” said one speaker.

As if to reinforce the message, members of the right-wing parties in the government coalition showed up the next day for their photo-ops at the funerals.

They were turned way with shouts. In part, because the reality is not so simple for these children and their families.

The children were too young to remember belonging to a different country – Syria. But their parents or grandparents were around in 1967, when they changed postal codes overnight. The fence running along the eastern side of town is a daily reminder. Most have extended family on the other side of the border. Sometimes women have crossed over, with special permission, to wed – knowing they might never again see their families on the western side of the fence. And when civil war broke out in Syria, many tried to bring family members to safety in Israel, mostly to no avail.

The citizens of the Druze town of Majdal Shams have two countries and no country. The same right-wing MPs who showed up on Sunday were among the architects of the racist “national law” that gives Jews first-class status above all minorities, including Druze. These same MPs are part of the coalition that insists on prolonging the war in Gaza, promising to deal with the North “someday.” No wonder they were turned away. Jewish neighbors, members of the county’s soccer leagues – those who came to offer condolences and lessen the grief, even the tiniest bit, by sharing it – were welcome.

No one has an answer to the question: And then what?

The Druze in Majdal Shams may have thought they were exempt from the rocket fire that has rained down on our country’s North for nearly 10 months. And they were, until Saturday. It was a mistake so horrendous that Hezbollah refused to take responsibility, instead spreading rumors it was actually an Israeli rocket.

Retaliation has already been promised, in this war-that-is-not-a-war. It’s our default, knee-jerk reaction. We’ll escalate a bit more while both sides issue statements that they don’t want a war; they’re ready for war.

Of course, we are told, there is no choice but to retaliate with force. No one has an answer to the question: And then what? For all of our bluster, we know we cannot eradicate Hezbollah. At best, we can push them back a bit, improve our negotiating position when the time comes to accept a truce.

I would like to think we have choices; that the deaths of 12 children is not a green light for us to bring about more killing. I would like to think that we might finally test the idea that committing to an eventual ceasefire in Gaza will end the rocket fire in the North, allowing us to negotiate a long-term ceasefire there.

I would like to think that the people of Majdal Shams are not simply valued citizens for a day. We have seen they are equal when it comes to the indiscriminate, lethal power of rockets. And they enjoy the same lack of protection from those rockets as many of their Jewish neighbors. Yet, according to law, they are less equal than Jews in this country.

Last Saturday afternoon, a group of children, tied to their homes, to their neighborhood and families, went to play soccer on a local field. They were in Israel, speaking Arabic, members of the Druze minority. They only wanted a bit of fun.

The refrain to the song I Have No Other Country goes something like this:

I will not stay silent
because my country changed her face

I will not give up reminding her
And sing in her ears
until she will open her eyes.