On Friday, on the eve of the Holy Sabbath and the Muslim festival, I saw the image of God defaced.
The night before, a taxi carrying a family from the Palestinian village of Nahalin -- mother, father, and young children -- was firebombed just below the Jewish settlement of Bat Ayin, not far from Jerusalem, a few kilometers from the city of Efrat in Gush Etzion. It's not new that Palestinians are the targets of attacks by Jewish extremists, in many places in the territories and in that particular spot, where a tree-covered hillside overlooking the road makes for easy rock or firebomb-throws and quick getaways. This time, however, the attack was more than usually successful. Of the six people who emerged from the flaming vehicle, five were hospitalized with burns all over their bodies.
On the initiative of Gadi Gevaryahu and the Tag Meir Forum that he founded, a small group of us, including several settlers who live in the area, turned out to pay our respects at the site of the firebombing and then to visit some of the injured family members at Hadassah Hospital in Jerusalem. Tag Meir translates roughly as "Tag of Radiance," a play on what the extremist settlers refer to as their Tag Mehir / "Price-Tag" activities -- burning mosques, destroying tress and crops, or attacking Palestinians and IDF installations -- in response to perceived threats or acts of violence.
In the hospital, we found our way to the mother's room and were welcomed by her father, standing by her bedside. She is a young woman, younger than my daughter, though her children are older than my grandson. She was "moderately" injured. Her face is covered in burns, one eye half-closed, her hands swathed in bandages. She speaks no Hebrew; her father, a little. One might have expected hostility, but he was clearly moved by our visit. We left chocolates, flowers, and good wishes for the oncoming Eid, the Muslim festival at the end of the holy month of Ramadan.
Her brother-in-law, at the other end of the same ward, pulled a sheet over his face and refused to see us. Perhaps because he was sleeping. Perhaps because he didn't want to speak to Israelis.
From there we went to see her child, far away in the pediatric wing of the hospital. The child himself -- a four-year-old boy, his burnt face a reflection of his mother's -- was sedated and unaware of our visit, but the uncle standing near welcomed us warmly, as did the hospital staff. We left toys and chocolates; the flowers, for which there was no room in this pediatric intensive care unit, became a gift to the nurses.
On the way home, we learned that three Palestinians teenagers had been beaten up -- one within an inch of his life -- by a mob of Jewish teenagers in the heart of downtown Jerusalem the night before.
The next day, in the synagogue, I heard the following verses chanted from the Torah:
And you shall tear down their altars, smash their monuments, burn their asherim with fire, cut down the graven images of their gods, and destroy their name from that place.
You shall not do so to the Lord, your God.
(Deuteronomy 12:3-4)
Rashi, in his comment on verse 4, quotes the following midrash: "Rabbi Ishmael said: Would it enter your mind that the Israelites would tear down the altars [of God]? Rather, [the meaning of“You shall not do so” is that] you should not do like the deeds of the nations so that your sins would cause the sanctuary of [i.e., built by] your fathers to be destroyed. — [Sifrei]" (thanks to the Chabad website and Judaica Press for the English translation).
The relevance of R. Ishmael's comment needs, I hope, no explaining. But the verses raised a different thought in my mind. The only thing said in the Torah to be created "in the image of God" is a human being. The defacement of the human faces of the mother and son we visited at Hadassah is a defacement of the divine image. So, too, the boy repeatedly kicked in the head as he lay on the ground in Zion Square in Jerusalem, until he lost consciousness and stopped breathing.
You might ask why I haven't written something similar in the wake of the many fearsome terror attacks perpetrated against Jews by Palestinians. Do I feel more for Palestinians than for Jews? That is an utterly heartless question. Palestinian terrorists and their supporters need to make their own accounting before God and humanity. When my fellow Jewish Israelis perpetrate acts of terror or mob violence that -- for me -- evoke memories of what my parents told me of their experiences in Europe in the 1930s, it is I and we who must take responsibility and make an accounting. It is I and we who must ask whether our sins are endangering our sanctuary.
(No, we're not Nazis -- I won't go to jail or even risk public approbation for saying this.)
Our police can stop a kid carrying an illicit beer bottle in Zion Square, but evidently they can't show up in time to stop a lynch. Supposedly, we need our army in the territories to stay in control, but they, too, can't be relied upon to stop terror attacks against Palestinian civilians. We need to call them to account. We need them to show their strength in protecting all those who live under our governance.
You may also ask where are the Palestinians coming to visit Jews injured by acts of Palestinian terror. I respond with the father's wish, standing by his burnt daughter's bedside, on the eve of the Eid and of Ellul, our month of repentance, for us all to live as neighbors.
The night before, a taxi carrying a family from the Palestinian village of Nahalin -- mother, father, and young children -- was firebombed just below the Jewish settlement of Bat Ayin, not far from Jerusalem, a few kilometers from the city of Efrat in Gush Etzion. It's not new that Palestinians are the targets of attacks by Jewish extremists, in many places in the territories and in that particular spot, where a tree-covered hillside overlooking the road makes for easy rock or firebomb-throws and quick getaways. This time, however, the attack was more than usually successful. Of the six people who emerged from the flaming vehicle, five were hospitalized with burns all over their bodies.
On the initiative of Gadi Gevaryahu and the Tag Meir Forum that he founded, a small group of us, including several settlers who live in the area, turned out to pay our respects at the site of the firebombing and then to visit some of the injured family members at Hadassah Hospital in Jerusalem. Tag Meir translates roughly as "Tag of Radiance," a play on what the extremist settlers refer to as their Tag Mehir / "Price-Tag" activities -- burning mosques, destroying tress and crops, or attacking Palestinians and IDF installations -- in response to perceived threats or acts of violence.
In the hospital, we found our way to the mother's room and were welcomed by her father, standing by her bedside. She is a young woman, younger than my daughter, though her children are older than my grandson. She was "moderately" injured. Her face is covered in burns, one eye half-closed, her hands swathed in bandages. She speaks no Hebrew; her father, a little. One might have expected hostility, but he was clearly moved by our visit. We left chocolates, flowers, and good wishes for the oncoming Eid, the Muslim festival at the end of the holy month of Ramadan.
Her brother-in-law, at the other end of the same ward, pulled a sheet over his face and refused to see us. Perhaps because he was sleeping. Perhaps because he didn't want to speak to Israelis.
From there we went to see her child, far away in the pediatric wing of the hospital. The child himself -- a four-year-old boy, his burnt face a reflection of his mother's -- was sedated and unaware of our visit, but the uncle standing near welcomed us warmly, as did the hospital staff. We left toys and chocolates; the flowers, for which there was no room in this pediatric intensive care unit, became a gift to the nurses.
On the way home, we learned that three Palestinians teenagers had been beaten up -- one within an inch of his life -- by a mob of Jewish teenagers in the heart of downtown Jerusalem the night before.
The next day, in the synagogue, I heard the following verses chanted from the Torah:
And you shall tear down their altars, smash their monuments, burn their asherim with fire, cut down the graven images of their gods, and destroy their name from that place.
You shall not do so to the Lord, your God.
(Deuteronomy 12:3-4)
Rashi, in his comment on verse 4, quotes the following midrash: "Rabbi Ishmael said: Would it enter your mind that the Israelites would tear down the altars [of God]? Rather, [the meaning of“You shall not do so” is that] you should not do like the deeds of the nations so that your sins would cause the sanctuary of [i.e., built by] your fathers to be destroyed. — [Sifrei]" (thanks to the Chabad website and Judaica Press for the English translation).
The relevance of R. Ishmael's comment needs, I hope, no explaining. But the verses raised a different thought in my mind. The only thing said in the Torah to be created "in the image of God" is a human being. The defacement of the human faces of the mother and son we visited at Hadassah is a defacement of the divine image. So, too, the boy repeatedly kicked in the head as he lay on the ground in Zion Square in Jerusalem, until he lost consciousness and stopped breathing.
You might ask why I haven't written something similar in the wake of the many fearsome terror attacks perpetrated against Jews by Palestinians. Do I feel more for Palestinians than for Jews? That is an utterly heartless question. Palestinian terrorists and their supporters need to make their own accounting before God and humanity. When my fellow Jewish Israelis perpetrate acts of terror or mob violence that -- for me -- evoke memories of what my parents told me of their experiences in Europe in the 1930s, it is I and we who must take responsibility and make an accounting. It is I and we who must ask whether our sins are endangering our sanctuary.
(No, we're not Nazis -- I won't go to jail or even risk public approbation for saying this.)
Our police can stop a kid carrying an illicit beer bottle in Zion Square, but evidently they can't show up in time to stop a lynch. Supposedly, we need our army in the territories to stay in control, but they, too, can't be relied upon to stop terror attacks against Palestinian civilians. We need to call them to account. We need them to show their strength in protecting all those who live under our governance.
You may also ask where are the Palestinians coming to visit Jews injured by acts of Palestinian terror. I respond with the father's wish, standing by his burnt daughter's bedside, on the eve of the Eid and of Ellul, our month of repentance, for us all to live as neighbors.
