Lunch at Maxim's

Yesterday we took a drive up to Haifa with my mother to meet some friends of hers who live in the Galilee. After taking in the spectacular views from the top of Mount Carmel, all sixteen of us piled into our cars and reconvened for lunch at Maxim's restaurant at the bottom of the hill, overlooking the Mediterranean. Although this restaurant, a cooperative venture between Jews and Christian Arabs, is a popular eatery and the favorite hangout of the local soccer team, it is a household name in Israel thanks to a female Palestinian suicide bomber who detonated herself here on October 4, 2003, killing twenty-one people and wounding fifty-one.

It was impossible not to flashback to those dark, horrendous days as we ascended the steps into the restaurant. A security guard with an orange vest scanned each of us diligently with a detector wand, a procedure now waived by most of the complacent watchmen at the entrances to public places. "Keep up the good work," I nearly said, but then remembered that almost every customer that crosses the threshold here probably has a few words of advice and encouragement for the man responsible for our safety.

Throughout the meal I found myself imagining the scene moments before the explosion a few times, but mostly it was an ordinary gathering, with plates passed around, children tended to and snatches of conversation bouncing between the adults. A baby cried long enough for us to remark on the disturbance, and then was whisked out by his young mother. The younger children took turns on the empty seat at the adults' end of the table. The waiter brought a missing entree. All in all, an unremarkable experience.

Three and a half years after that infamous bombing and life has returned to normal. Israelis eat in restaurants, ride on public transportation and live lives that aspire to normalcy. Our experts have contained a grave threat to the personal safety of the citizens of the state impressively, and although our enemies never desist from their efforts to renew the violence, a certain kind of victory is evident here. The economy is flourishing, tourists are returning and the resilience gleams from every corner like specks of a broken vessel.

Yet, it's difficult to feel optimistic about the future. There are encouraging signals emanating from our neighbors but a realistic path toward resolution of the conflict is not yet in sight. Abba Even once said that even the absence of war here is an accomplishment, but somehow this tense quiet is not reassuring. With belligerent Hamas in control and an Israeli government wracked by scandals it's hard to imagine any serious progress on the road to where we all want to be.

But then again, Rome wasn't built in a day and neither will peace be rushed. It will amble along when it's good and ready, perhaps taking us all by surpise. In fact, it could be any day now...