Wednesday, March 26, 2008

Draft Notices

Last week my two sixteen year-old daughters received their first draft notices in the mail. The fruit of my womb has been requisitioned by the Israel Defense Forces, and on May 25 my girls will start the process of enlisting in the army for two years after they graduate from high school.

This is a significant milestone for all of us, including me. I arrived in Israel after the draft age and never served in the army; at the end of eleventh grade I was filling out college applications and traveling around the northeast to visit campuses. (Needless to say, the thought of enlisting in the American armed forces never crossed my mind.) I missed out on the army as the ultimate experience of the Israeli melting pot; perhaps this is why I have always felt, to some extent, an outsider here. My daughters' army service might be my chance to serve in the army vicariously.

My husband's parents never wanted him to serve. Timid, fearful immigrants with Holocaust baggage, they sent him into exile in Canada at age fourteen, hoping he would choose not to return to Israel. Their plan backfired and he returned, determined to contribute, but the IDF was always a foreign body to them.

So our daughters will enlist with the full support and enthusiasm of both their parents because we believe deeply in the importance of the army as the tool of a strong, independent Jewish state. However, those letters from the IDF forced me to consider that our time together as a family in this configuration is running short. When our girls went off to first grade it seemed my ability to protect them was suddenly limited - all at once I found them with one foot outside the nest. Still, they were always close to home, in our orbit, under our watchful eyes, somehow steerable.

When they go off to the army we won't be able to see them from the nest anymore, a thought which prompts reflection on my role as a parent. Did I do the best job I possibly could while I still had the power to shape them? Have I prepared them to handle whatever will challenge them? Did I take advantage of every moment I had with them? Will they leave feeling loved and protected, or gasping for freedom?

It will be a struggle to step back and watch them take charge, although I believe that teaching our children to be independent is a parent's greatest obligation. If my daughters' army service will be an opportunity for them to learn and grow, then somehow the idea of an empty next isn't quite as daunting. I'll keep fluffing the feathers and warming the oven; hopefully, they'll always be happy to return home.

Sunday, March 9, 2008

Deja Vu

The attack on the Mercaz Harav Yeshiva last Thursday brought back a wave of painful memories and desperation. It's been a while since we sat in front of the tv watching the details of yet another bloodbath unfold in real time. Yet, it was if three years of relative quiet vanished into thin air as we returned to those horrendous days of siege and breaking news.

The general assumption here is that the most recent attack is not an indication of a new trend, a third intifada. The separation fence and the IDF's unlimited access to the dens of terror in the West Bank ensure that we will never return to the darkest days of the second intifada. However, although Hamas and the various minions of terrorism find it increasingly difficult to act, their determination and persistence sometimes pay off, particularly when the fires of revenge are coursing through their blood.

The newspapers reported that the terrorist, a 26-year old Palestinian from a prosperous family from East Jerusalem, was deeply affected by the media images of last week's Israeli incursion in to Gaza, when about one hundred Palestinians were killed, many of them civilians. He chose to avenge their deaths, knowing he would die in the process.

The Palestinian glorification of death and their preoccupation with revenge are two cultural characteristics with which Israelis and Jews cannot identify. Although a desire to blow them all to kingdom come is a common reaction to a terrorist attack, it is widely acknowledged as a visceral one. When we regain our senses we remember that revenge is not a strategy by which a state operates but a powerful emotional desire that brings no resolution to the problems at hand.

Obviously, the terrorist did not care to acknowledge that the Israeli incursion into Gaza was a response to a direct threat to our homefront that no sovereign nation would willingly accept. The Palestinian inability to self-examine has created a deep sense of victimhood - they are always right, Israel is always at fault. This approach was evident in the reply of an Arab man from the terrorist's hometown who was asked by a reporter, "what do you think of the terrorist?" "What do you think about what happened in Gaza?" he retorted.

So, the solution is not to hit harder. It is to find a way to end the hitting by both sides. The cycle of violence only serves those who wish to perpetuate the conflict, and not those who are tired of living by the sword. However, speaking as an eternal optimist, it's virtually impossible to see the light at the end of the tunnel. There is no leadership figure on either side that can tip the balance towards a positive process - at best, we will continue to jog in place. Each party to the conflict is intrenched in its indignation and convinced the ball is in the opponent's court. Is there anybody out there who can save us?