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October 20, 2000/21 Tishri 5761, Vol. 53, No.4
'Peace and love' go up in smoke
VICKI CABOT
Contributing Editor
"If I forget thee O Jerusalem" - these words from Psalm 137 resonate as violence explodes in the city of David and beyond.
As ardent supporters of the Jewish state, we react with horror at clashes between stone-throwing Palestinians and gun-toting Israelis, at blood splattering on city streets, besmirching Jerusalem's walls and its good name. City of Peace, city of gold, city of David - Jerusalem symbolizes the eternal hope for the Jewish people. We remember Jerusalem - yet how easy it is to forget how hard-won is her dominion, how arduous her pursuit of peace.
From the security of our homes, we forget what it means to be in danger. From the stability of our cities, we forget what it means to be under attack. We revel in our unprecedented acceptance as American Jews, in our prosperity, in our power. We protest the bloodshed, yet maintain our American sense of fair play. We speak out against condemning Israel, yet hide behind our role as honest broker. We avoid pointing fingers, yet argue for justice and fairness.
We eschew words like "hate" and "killing," choosing instead more polite terms like "distrust" and "loss of life." We avoid names like "refugees" and "homeland," yet Jewish history has turned on the cycle of exile and return, and we too have been refugees and Israel is our homeland.
As horrifying images flash across our television screens, our first instinct is to avert our eyes, too pained to look. We ignore the stark realities of Middle East politics and seek refuge in platitudes and politesse.
Perhaps those of us of a certain age have been too infused with '60s peace and love, too distanced from war, too sheltered from death and destruction. Our generation that came of age with the Beatles bought the message "Let it be" and assumes "there will be an answer" just around the corner.
It could be that Israeli Prime Minister Ehud Barak's stolid leadership has cowed our doubts and curbed our fears. After all, the veteran military man knew the risks he was taking as well as the concessions he was making. It could be that President Bill Clinton's silver-tongued charm lulled us into false hope. He has a gift for convincing nearly anyone of nearly anything - so perhaps he could convince Yasser Arafat to give up terrorism ways and Barak to believe him?
Perhaps our Israeli compatriots suffer from some of the same delusions we do. Could they, like us, have become just a little too anxious, a little too trusting, a little less vigilant? Could the desire for normalcy, for peace, have deluded them into thinking that the neighborhood was not so dangerous, the Palestinians not so cunning, the risks not so great? Like American Jews yearning for a piece of the American dream, perhaps our Israeli brothers and sisters thought that if they worked hard enough, cared deeply enough, trusted enough, they would prevail.
But Jaffa Road is not Delancey Street, and the road to Ramallah is not the Golden Medina. Reality bites, and in this case, bleeds and maims and kills and causes untold anguish and pain.
Where does Israel go from here? Back to the negotiating table, with renewed resolve to stand its ground, to end the violence, to maintain order, to look for new ways to live together with its Palestinian neighbors.
And we, American Jews, will continue to pray for the peace of Jerusalem. And promise never to forget the risks or the price.
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