Sometimes, you become overwhelmed by the sadness, by the futility of fighting against the wind. Sometimes, you know there is nothing you as a single person can do to change even this small thing. Sometimes, you want to do it all...and know there is nothing that can be done at your level. I am not a leader of a country, not even of my own home. I am not a politician who can sway crowds with a speech or rock countries with my demands.

I am a mother whose heart cries today for another mother. I salute Aviva Shalit, her courage, her strength. I pray for her son every day and today, more than any other. When words fail, perhaps all that is left are pictures. Today it is four years since that horrible day when Palestinians infiltrated into our land, attacked and killed our soldiers, and dragged Gilad off. Four years without a mother's hug, a mother's soothing voice.

Four years. I have watched my son enter the army...grow, develop...and come out safe. All that I ever begged of God during that time. I have seen my second son enter the army and I am watching him grow, praying desperately for his safety. All I can give Gilad today is my prayers for him. Be safe, be healthy, may you know the world over today people are praying for you, sending their love and hope and most of all, may you come home soon. The only thing that has changed since this video was made...is that another year has passed. Another year, without Gilad:

Today's quote from Defense Minister Ehud Barak:

"There are 1.5 million people living in Gaza and only one of them really needs humanitarian aid. Only one of them is locked in a tiny room and never sees the light of day, only one of them is not allowed visits and is in uncertain health – his name is Gilad Shalit, and this month four years will have passed since he was kidnapped.”

--------------

We are a democratic country; so much so, we allow our enemies into our government and from the podium of our parliament, they have the freedom to call for policies that would destroy us.

Our current enemies, those who pose the most immediate threat lie to our north. This is Hizbollah land, where according to their leader Hassan Nasrallah, "We have discovered how to hit the Jews where they are the most vulnerable. The Jews love life, so that is what we shall take away from them. We are going to win, because they love life and we love death."

Our enemies lie to the northeast. This is Syria. My son spent many months on the Golan Heights, including some tense days waiting to see how the Syrians would react after Israel sent planes to destroy a building widely believed to be the beginnings of a nuclear reactor. My son fought near Gaza to help stop the rockets being fired against Israel.

Our enemies lie further to the east. This is Iran, led by a madman who promises that he will do all he can to accomplish in minutes more than what Adolf Hitler accomplished in six years of war. Mahmoud Ahmadinejad has made it clear in words and actions that he is after a nuclear bomb and that his goal is to wipe Israel off the face of the earth. Believe him.

This site archives articles about many issues, including:

• A running "tally" of anti-Semitic attacks worldwide (for 2008, 2007, 2006)
• Articles about aliyah, and Five Reasons to Come to Israel
• Our enemies, in their own words
• Barnard/Columbia's shameful decision to grant tenure to Nadia Abu El-Haj, a "professor" of anthropology who poisons scholarship with in her political agenda
• Life in Sderot
• About the Holocaust
• And much more

An Israeli Soldier's Mother

From the time our children are born, we accept that our identity has changed. We were so many things, and continue to be. But in the moments after we give birth, and in the years that follow, we become something so much more. I have been a mother for more than 20 years, and now, as I see my oldest son enter the army of Israel, I become a soldier's mother. To read my ongoing blog: http://israelisoldiersmother.blogspot.com/.

Blogging not only opens new doors in terms of outreach, it is also quite addictive. Here's another blog I'm running: http://thisisisrael.blogspot.com/ - This is Israel.

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"We have discovered how to hit the Jews where they are the most vulnerable. The Jews love life, so that is what we shall take away from them. We are going to win, because they love life and we love death."

-- Hizbullah General Secretary,  Hassan Nasrallah

Nasrallah is right - we Jews love life and they love death. But he is wrong - it is not what makes us vulnerable, it is what makes us invincible.

We have the choice to be strong...or to bow to our enemies. We must tell the world, we are going to win because we love life, because we love our land, and because we are destined to live in this country, this land, for eternity. The people and the nation of Israel lives!

Part of this living is remembering what was done in the past so as to prevent it from happening in the future. Several sections on this site are dedicated to this principle. These include:

• Partial Report of Anti-Semitic Attacks by country in 2008 (in progress)
• Partial Report of Anti-Semitic Attacks in 2007 (including summaries)
• Partial Report of Anti-Semitic Attacks in 2006 (including summaries)
• Having A Son in the Army
• About the Holocaust

About Life in Israel

Today, as with most days - Palestinians fired rockets at our cities, probably attempted to infiltrate our cities or smuggle weapons in order to perpetrate attacks against us. Our response must be...even if you succeed today, and sometimes you will...you may hurt us, but you will never defeat us.

Ultimately, Israel is about spirit. Every day in Israel, we are reminded of the things that could only happen here. For a few examples, click here.

Remembering the Lebanon War II

Do you know what a Katyusha rocket sounds like? Click here to see and listen to a katyusha. Some sound bites from this war:

• Dan Gillerman, Israel's representative to the UN, recently said, "When you sleep with a missile, sometimes you don't wake up."
• Lebanese President Emil Lahoud, "I support the Hizbollah because they liberated our land"  and called Hizbollah "a symbol for steadfastness and dignity." See When You Sleep with a Missile.
• Click here for more on...War in the North including a blog from a resident of Karmiel who wrote from her work in a hospital in the north (Resident's Blog) and an article on what the war should be called War of the Captives. Len, a resident of Haifa took pictures of what happened in Haifa during the war. Click here to see a list of the Presentations and download them. (Please be patient, it may take a moment to load, but the images are important and the message one worth the delay).

Remembering Gush Katif and its brave people:

On the right is a picture of a Kassem Rocket fired at Moshe and Rachel Saperstein's home in Neve Dekalim. This was one of more than 6000 rockets and mortars fired by Palestinians hoping to drive the Jews from their homes. In the end, it was not the Palestinians...but Ariel Sharon that accomplished this - to his everlasting shame and guilt.

Click here for a brief tour of what was stolen from the people of Gush Katif, and the people of Israel.

Poland

After a trip to Poland, I began documenting what I'd seen, what I'd learned, and most importantly, what I felt. In the months and years since my trip, I find that once you have been to Poland, you can never quite see the world in the same way again. Here are a few of the articles related to that trip:

• Auschwitz
• Story of the Chelmno Baby
• Treblinka
• Jedwabna

I have begun a section to document my visit  Poland: from a Jewish perspective. I hope to add many more pictures in the coming weeks, and perhaps expand the pages to include other countries as well. Also, please see: www.polandjews.com for more information.

If you have comments about this site, please write to me at .

Western Wall, Jerusalem

Golan Heights, Israel

Judean Desert

Masada

Who links to me?

Background of PaulaSays.com:

I'm hoping that something that seems inherently egotistical can be explained as something else. For quite a few years, friends and relatives have said they enjoy my articles and I should do something about saving them, publishing them to a wider audience, etc.

PaulaSays.com is a step in this direction. Although I hope the site will grow, at this point, it contains articles that I have written (most have been published either in Israeli or US newspapers, or are located in e-magazines and Internet News sites such as IsraelNationalNews.com and IsraelInsider.com.

Other Interests:

WritePoint

Writing articles soothes the soul, but probably not the checkbook. So, some 15+ years ago, I founded WritePoint Ltd. WritePoint is a leading technical writing company in Israel involved in all manner of documentation and training. Several years ago, we opened the Training Center in Jerusalem. WritePoint is based on a simple concept: offer your clients loyalty and quality that stands the test of time - and they will stay with you. Many of our clients have been with us for years, some for more than a decade. We are always interested in working with new companies. WritePoint's website can be viewed at www.writepoint.com.

MarcShoret

MarcShoret is a list of MARCOM professionals in Israel and abroad. Currently there are more than 220 members on the list and the first annual conference is scheduled for November 2 in Binyanei Hauma in Jerusalem. For more information, see: www.marcshoret.com.

Techshoret

Techshoret is a list of technical writers in Israel and abroad. Currently, there are more than 1800 list members. More than just a list, Techshoret is a community of people who share the same professional interests, for the most part live in the same country, and are interested in learning and teaching each other.

As list owner and one of the moderators of the list, I have the interesting job of helping list members, processing messages and handling problems and, most of all, seeing that the list runs smoothly and politely. The list also features a resume database for technical writers. The Techshoret website can be viewed at www.techshoret.com.

Okay, now that I have your attention with that horrible title - imagine seeing it plastered to a street sign in Jerusalem, our holy city, the capital of our Jewish nation. That's right...there it was (picture coming soon). So the Haredim (Ultra-Orthodox) protested again today. To emphasize their opinions, they dumped garbage on the streets of Jerusalem and burned those garbage cans again.

I had a meeting near one of these neighborhoods. My first impression as we drove through the streets was of the garbage, strewn on the sides, piled on the sides and even sometimes in the middle. Then I saw the "carcasses" of the garbage cans...all that remains is the twisted metal, the plastic having melted away completely and the garbage left to be scattered. What disrespect, I thought to myself - of our beautiful city, our holy land.

Last week, they had a demonstration. I walked through the crowd on my way to make some purchases. There they stood on the high wall that surrounds the cemetery. There they congregated to watch the huge protest rally...what disrespect, I thought to myself. Of the dead who lie there in eternal rest, here in the holiest of holy cities.

They are saying it isn't about racism, but rather a battle between the arrogance of a judge who dared to declare the law was above man, or at least their rabbis. There are those who say this began as racism and certainly the words of one mother, saying "In any case, we won't agree to unite the (Ashkenazi and Sephardic) classes" implies that it remains an issue of racism.

When the demonstration was over last week, massive crowds drifted away...many taking buses to get home. Buses...of the Zionist state they condemn, on the roads built by the Zionist state. They paid for the buses with the Zionist money and when they got home, as evening arrived, they turned on the lights in their homes - powered by electricity from the Zionist state.

From outside our borders, they send flotillas filled with those who hate this land. But worse, so much worse, are those who dare, in our holy city, to put up a sign that says, "Arabs YES, Zionists, NO!." Not so many years ago, there were Arabs who tried to blow up those very buses they took from the demonstration. I was filled with fury when I saw the sign. I was filled with disgust.

My first thought was to ask Egged to write, "ZIONIST BUS" on all those green buses these people regularly use; to ask the government to write "ZIONIST GARBAGE SERVICE" on the trucks that pick up the refuse in these neighborhoods. As we drove away, my mind was cluttered with all the thoughts of what they take from this land and how little they give back in any concrete sense.

I have used up all the arguments, argued them from all sides. Yes, I believe that our army fights with the weapons we give them...and the prayers we say for them. But who are we kidding? Do you think these people who post signs that say, "Arabs YES, Zionists, NO" are praying for the Zionist army?

I am not foolish enough to believe that all of the Haredim support a sign that would encourage our enemies and show a preference for them over the very government and institutions who provide them with their medical care, support for their schools, transportation, water, electricity and more. And yet, as I stood there staring at that sign, plastered to our city, I saw no Haredi person try to remove it in shame. I saw none come over and say to me, "we don't feel that way; it's wrong that someone put it up there."

And I thought to myself, what disrespect to our people, our land and yes, to the very God they claim to serve. I think in a very real sense, this debate about Emmanual is filled with more wrongs than rights; more exaggeration than fact...even more bluster than real racism. I think the parents were wrong, the school was wrong, the courts were wrong and the parents were wrong again.

Our religion does not preach that our rabbis are infallible or above the law...God's or man's. More, our religion is based on respect - respect of people, respect of property, respect for the dead, and respect for the living. There was no respect last week in the streets of Jerusalem as tens of thousands of protesters caused massive delays, littered the ground, trampled the cemetery walls, and cursed the Zionist hand that helps make their lives tolerable here.

Yes, blessings come from God, but the electricity comes from the Electric Company, the buses come from Egged. The garbage they threw on our city will be picked up by our sanitation workers and those signs of hatred will be scrubbed away.

But the next time a Haredi man comes over with his hand out asking for a donation, I will ask him if he really wants my Zionist money. Perhaps this is still the anger talking. Perhaps tomorrow I will be calmer. For now, I think of the tremendous disrespect I saw today, on the streets of Jerusalem, on the walls, and in their hearts.

A long time ago...perhaps not that LONG ago, but a life time in many ways, I boarded an El Al plane with two little boys. We had packed and shipped the contents of much of our life togehter, first as a young couple, than as parents with three small children. My husband and daughter had already flown to Israel to start our new life; he would start working, she would start learning the language to more easily integrate into the third grade. 
I had Elie, who had just turned six, and Shmulik who was three and a half. I'd made the decision not to toileet train him, afraid that as the plane was taking off, he'd need to use the rest rooms. A few more months wouldn't make the difference, but a 10 hour flight with two small boys was looming. on the aisle with Shmulik next to me; Elie had the window seat.

I was exhausted, nervous, tense, excited, frantic, worried. I was an emotional wreck having been alone with the boys for six weeks already as I packed and longed to join my husband. Shmulik fell asleep even before the plane had finished its climb into the sky and slept for most of the journey. I had worried about how I would handle the boys on the plane...I soon found myself lonely and wishing they were awake to keep me company on the plane.

Today, each summer, hundreds of families each year move to make their homes in Israel. It has become so much more accepted than it was when we came. There was no great ceremony but my husband met me at the airport with flowers and that was all that I ever needed. We went home to a house he had rented, put our children to bed and part time difference, part over-exhaustion, part exhiliration, I stood for hours on the balcony just staring at Israel long after my husband and children had gone to sleep. I've come home, I spoke to the hills. And look what I have brought you. My dream...their reality.

For the first year we were here, Shmulik spoke no Hebrew. Not a word. He went to nursery school (called Gan here) and silently watched. He played with the others. "He understands everything," his teachers were quick to tell me and yet I longed to hear him speak.

Elie and Amira quickly grasped the language. Shmulik remained silent. The second year, he continued in silence and I couldn't stand it. I know he understands, I told the teacher, but I want him to speak. She agreed with me...and each time he pointed, she would look at him and tell him that if he wanted something, he had to tell her. And he did - in whole sentences, in perfect Hebrew. Within a few years, he refused to speak English. "Tell me in English," I would encourage him and he would respond, "never mind."

I gave up on the English. I wasn't going to lose communication with my son over a language issue, I told my husband. And for years, though he understood English, he barely spoke it in our home. We moved to Maale Adumim when he was in 6th grade. He met new friends, great friends and somehow among there were more English speakers and so his English returned. He is fluent in both languages.

Why this journey into the past? Because yesterday was one of those moments when you think not just of the present, but of what came before. Shmulik took part in his Tekes Hashba'a. The Swearing-in Ceremony where he formally received his gun and his rifle. They stood there - strong and proud. They promised to protect the State of Israel; the army promised to watch over them. They made this promise in a place like no other in the world; a place holy to our people, our nation. I watched as my baby stood there proud and tall and all that I have wanted  him to be. This moment was my dream....and it is his reality. The soldiers of March, 2010 - Kfir Brigade:

Turkey’s 9/11 

It is dangerous to be an Israeli in Turkey today. The families of Israeli diplomats have come back to Israel, as a cautionary move against possible violence. The diplomats, so far, have not been recalled. The flotilla fiasco is, according to some in Turkey, their 9/11. Of all the discussions I have heard, all the comments from all sides, this is perhaps the most telling.

September 11 was a day in which 50,000 people were attacked, more if you count the Pentagon and still more if you understand it was as much an attack on the United States itself, rather than “only” the World Trade Center. September 11 was a day in which innocence was attacked. Those who care more about making a point than reality, could argue that those in the Pentagon might not have been innocent, but no rational human being can say that those who perished, and those who survived, had done anything to justify what happened.

No, September 11 was about innocent victims and terrorism. How telling that the Turks use and abuse this event for their own political and cynical gains. The flotilla was not about humanitarian aid. No one can seriously believe that when Israel had constantly, even the day before, made public announcements that it was prepared to deliver the cargo to Gaza, once it was checked for security reasons and smuggling of contraband or weaponry.

Seriously, is there anyone in the world who doesn’t know about the hundreds of tunnels we have found and stopped, the endless smuggling of drugs, women, explosives, missiles and more that constantly flows into Gaza? It cannot be. I refuse to believe it.

It is possible people are unaware of the tens of thousands of missiles aimed at Israel – of the damage that has been caused here, the loss of life in Israel? I know the world has not forgotten the Gaza War – they are still looking for ways to condemn Israel. Even Richard Goldstone, the hanging judge of South Africa, admits to the rocket attacks and the damage we have sustained, even Richard Goldstone.

So clearly, Israel was justified in demanding our right to protect our citizens and verify that the cargo was innocent. Turkish citizens and others took to the waters. A naval blockade was legally declared. The flotilla refused to comply. From there, the situation is clear.

Israel attempted to board the ships. In all honesty, though I am not a military person, I can see that the soldiers believed they were dropping down into a ship of activists – the very humanitarian and peace-loving people they claimed they would be. It would be a matter of arrest, transfer, pack up the cargo, deliver it. End of story.

But the people on the ship were not the innocents of 9/11. I don’t remember seeing anyone beating, stabbing, and shoving others from heights. I remember people helping others, crying, hugging, and most of all, running in fear for their lives as the terrorist threat turned into reality.

The flotilla “peace activists” had metal clubs with which they beat soldier after soldier. With the knives on board, vicious, long and sharp weapons of violence, they stabbed one courageously – in the back – and shoved him over the railing to drop 30 feet. Other brave protesters were busy cracking a soldier’s skull, grabbed weapons of others, and opened fire on our soldiers (and likely on their fellow passengers). These were not peace activists, but violent protesters with a cause…and the cause was not humanitarian aid to Gaza.

A full forty minutes passed before the soldiers were given permission to fight back for their lives, to open fire. The videos show this, taken from above and watched by thousands. News reporters heard the soldiers calling, one to the other, “don’t shoot, don’t shoot.” This is what they were trained to do and despite being beaten, they stuck to the training and did not meet deadly force with deadly force for a full 40 minutes.

For me, I am entranced with the concept that this violent act, this battle on the seas, could be compared to a massive terrorist attack against unsuspecting people on their way to work. The protesters were not unarmed as were the people of the World Trade Center; the protesters were not taken unaware. Knives were on board for this purpose (you don’t even cut a thick steak with the knives these protesters wielded).

Unsuspecting? This was at sea, out in the open – the flotilla was approached, warned repeatedly and loudly – yes, there are videos of these warnings (and again the offer to deliver the cargo to Gaza). A helicopter hovered over their heads as they planned their ambush and their victims – yes, their victims – were fed to them one by one as the soldiers dropped to the ships, each taken and viciously beaten. Each soldier was confronted by three or more armed men before he had even landed and the first blows often started while the soldier was still descending. Peace activists? No, not even close. Unsuspecting? Seriously not. Unarmed? Not even close.

I do not  know if the American government of Barack Hussein Obama will take issue with what the Turks are now claiming, the message they are trying to float to the world. I do not know if the world is stupid enough to believe that those aboard were innocent.

Already yesterday and today, the contents of most of the ships has been transferred to Gaza – as promised before this whole fiasco, less the knives and other weapons found. A friend suggested that what Israel should have done was send their commandos under the waters to simply pull the “plugs” on the ships, open a hole in the bottoms – and just let them sink.

We would be there to rescue those who wished to be rescued, let others rescue them, or let them drown. Had we done that, ten of our soldiers would not have been wounded, two in critical condition from the brutal attacks. And, had we done that, perhaps so many protesters would not have died and been injured. Of course, Gaza would not have gotten the aid it now has, but then again, that was never the point anyway.

I have now become a proponent of the concept of “retro-active sinking.” Should more flotillas come, and they will – we should sink the ships, simple as that. Those on board can sink or swim, be rescued or drowned. They wanted pictures of violence – they got them. That was expected, acceptable and inevitable.

Calling it Turkey’s 9/11 was not expected, should not be acceptable and though it might have been inevitable, it must be condemned. More than 50,000 innocent, unsuspecting people were attacked in the most brutal terrorist attack this world has seen. To compare that to the pre-planned battle and its consequences on the flotilla is obscene and must not be tolerated. In the strongest terms, Obama and others must demand a full apology and retraction from the Turks. Sadly, the Turks are so busy protesting and attacking all things Israeli and Jewish they can find, they are likely not to hear.

This is about a child in Israel - or perhaps most children in Israel.

My youngest daughter (I've written about here before:<a href="http://israelisoldiersmother.blogspot.com/2007/12/candle-and-wave.html">A Candle and a Wave</a> and <a href="http://israelisoldiersmother.blogspot.com/2009/01/childs-alarm.html">A Child's Alarm</a>) is learning something that I don't know how to translate - basically Medical Care, First Aid, Human Care or something like that - its the rudiments of first aid at a fourth grade level. She has a test today and so spoke of what she knows on the way to school.

"ABC" she said.

"What's that for?" I asked.

"Air waves, Breathing, and Circulation"

"They teach you that in English?" I asked her.

"No, but they tell us ABC because it isn't the same in Hebrew." Okay. It was cute and I went along with it as she spoke and then my mind stopped and I heard not the cute tone of her voice, that I love listening to, but the words. I asked her to explain it again and then asked if this was the teacher's explanation or hers.

"The teacher. He's really funny. He told us 'If a doctor says a patient doesn't have a pulse, but he does, what does that mean?' "

She giggled and then answered, "it means it's a bad doctor."

But it was the analogy that she told me before that stuck with me. This ABC thing is: "It's like a missile hitting a building," she explained. It took me a while to get the image and understand what she was saying...

See, you have a building, she explains. If the missile hits the top of the building, the people can live, but if it hits the bottom, they won't. So, if the person isn't getting air, for example, they will die - check the airways first. If the airways are clear, but the person isn't breathing, you do one thing....I don't remember now. My brain stopped after the explanation of the building and the missile.

It's actually a good description - the concept of prioritizing...but the image remains and the wonder. I can't see any teacher in another country using the same example...and yet it worked. It didn't distress the children. They live with the reality all the time. They understand what happens when a missile hits and the physics of where it hits a building.

That, I guess, is Israel's child and listening to my child give that explanation was enough to make me regret, just a bit, the abnormality of it all. I'm happy she's learning about ABC, even how to do CPR, though I confess that concerned me a bit and yes, she won't forget the prioritization of what to do in first aid. I am thrilled beyond all words that we live in Israel, that our lives and futures are in this beautiful land but I regret...just a bit...that a child could be taught...and can understand based on the imagery of a missile hitting a building.

Israel's child.

This YouTube video was posted in honor of Israel's 62nd Independence Day...a day in which Gilad was not free, was not independent. This is a day on which we celebrated, knowing it was a day that Gilad's family continued to suffer.

Please take a moment and listen to Noam...who wonders what Gilad is thinking and feeling as he remains in complete isolation...almost four years into his captivity in Gaza.

"For you Gilad" - his father says...their lives have been dedicated to seeking Gilad's freedom. "We are fighting for his rights according to international law. For us... a night is not a night; a holiday is not a holiday...until he returns home.

One Thousand...Four Hundred Days

In the last one thousand, four hundred days...

• We sold our house and
• We moved to a new house, that we bought.
• My oldest daughter got engaged and married, celebrated her first, her second, and her third wedding anniversary.
• My oldest son entered the army, finished basic training, advanced training, a commander's course.
• He served in several combat locations and went to war against terrorists who were firing hundreds of rockets into our cities.
• He finished his national service, returned his weapon and uniform and came back home.
• My second son finished high school, did a year and a half of pre-military learning, and just entered the army.
• My third son finished elementary school, entered junior high school and celebrated his bar mitzvah.
• My youngest child left her baby years firmly behind and has watched her sister marry, one brother and then another and another enter the army.
• My husband and I have celebrated our 25th wedding anniversary (our 23rd and 24th and 26th).
• We expanded our business to include new services, new clients, new employees.
• We opened a publishing house and began publishing several books.
• We bought a car, sold a car, bought another car and another.
• Our oldest dog passed away...and we got another.
• We got new chairs for our dining room set.
• We painted our house.
• We celebrated our national holidays, mourned on other days.
• We hiked in the north, traveled far to the south.
• We swam in the Mediterranean Sea , the Sea of Galilee , the Dead Sea , and several rivers and streams.
• My brother came to visit twice, my brother-in-law and sister-in-law came three times.
• Many of my friends married off children, several became grandparents.
• Our oldest adopted son got married and had a baby girl; our younger adopted son joined the army and now serves with our middle son.
• We changed cellular phone carriers...and will likely change again soon.
• My sons have gotten stronger and taller; my parents have gotten just a bit more frail.
• We bought a new oven and a new microwave; a new refrigerator for our offices.
• I got two new laptops; my husband got another; two of my sons as well.
• I wrote over 522 blog posts about being a soldier's mother and...

During that time, Gilad Shalit has been held captive by Hamas . For each of those days, I have told my children that I love them, I've held them, worried over them, cried for them, prayed for them...and in all that time, Aviva Shalit has cried, worried, prayed and loved...but not once has she been able to tell Gilad that she loves him, not once has she held him.

One thousand , four hundred days...beyond an eternity of suffering. It's time for Gilad to come home. It's time for Israel to act in Gilad's interest. If Gilad is denied even the basics of human rights - we have the right to limit what we give to those who hold him.

No Palestinians are owed medical and humanitarian aid from Israel - let their own brothers see to their needs. Let their wounded, their sick and diseased go to Jordan or Egypt.

No Palestinians are owed the opportunity to earn advanced degrees while they sit in jail; they are not owed television, radio and newspapers.

No Palestinians are owed personal visits from their families - they must be allowed visits by the Red Cross to confirm their medical conditions...but we do not owe more than that.

What we must give according to international law, should be given...no more, no less.

For one thousand, four hundred days, Gilad has gotten less. At some point, the shame of what was being done crossed on to our leaders...the shame is now ours if we let this go on any further.

The US wants us to talk to the Palestinians. Netanyahu must answer Obama now - NO. No, we will not talk with people who hold Gilad. No, we will not give you more concessions and bend to your pressure. When did you last do anything, President Obama , for Gilad Shalit ? When did you demand this boy who has grown into a man be given his freedom?

Before you speak to our leaders, President Obama - go to Gaza and speak to Gilad. Tell him that we have not forgotten him...that we will not negotiate...until Gilad comes home.

One thousand , four hundred days.

Enough!

My mind has been filled, like much of the news, with what Anat Kam, the 23-year-old “journalist” did with documents she stole during her army service. I’ve spoken to many people about it, to regular Israelis, to friends, to family, to soldiers. And as I thought…I remembered something.

I’m often asked on various social media networks about my political stand, where my sons are, what beliefs I have in the future. Recently, a series of emails and Twitter conversations got to me. One cousin in America, who supported Barack Hussein Obama, argues that Obama isn’t anti-Israel and that my claims that Obama is blackmailing Israel are unfounded. He quotes relatives who lived in Palestine in the 1920s and 1930s but refuses to acknowledge today’s realities.

From my perspective, I see that Obama wants Israel to toe his line and has canceled sending Israel necessary military equipment until Israel buckles. Sounds like blackmail to me. Obama is demanding Israel stop building in Jerusalem, something Israel never promised to do because it is on Obama’s agenda, not ours. Sounds anti-Israel to me.

And a gentleman from Brazil who says he is left-wing, offers me a choice: withdraw from a good portion of our land, establish a bi-national state, or become an apartheid state. I rejected his options…each and every one of them. We have given good land, only to get rockets; we know what a bi-national state will bring us, and Israel is nothing like the apartheid South Africa once was…with 10% of the Knesset being Arab, with Israeli Arabs having all the same rights we have – the right to travel anywhere in our country, the right to vote, the right to education and government funding.

The Brazilian gentleman asked me if I see a light at the end of the tunnel. After I answered, he asked me if I would be willing to trade land for these visions and I explained that his question was absurd. It’s like going into an art gallery and asking to buy a painting that isn’t for sale in a place you know believes in bargaining.

The owner steps us and says it isn’t for sale, but what is the most you would pay? If you answer $1,000, you know that should the owner decide to sell, he will begin at $1,000. The opening bid is the one you last state and you can never go back and offer $800. Your final bid becomes the opening one, the final price so much higher than you can afford to pay…or more likely, the sale will never be made. People ask me if I would agree to trade land for some distant peace…and my answer is simply “is the painting even for sale?”

And finally, the man from Brazil who speaks Hebrew and loves this land and wishes my sons well; a man who prays for a day when his sons and mine can play soccer on a field with Palestinian children, asked if I had a vision. It isn’t often I let myself dream of what the future could hold. For what purpose, I ask myself, when there is no chance of a peace agreement while Israel has no partner, what is to be gained?

It was then that I realized that because we don’t see a light at the end of the tunnel, doesn’t mean we lack hope. Perhaps it is our error, that we often don’t explain to the world that yes, we do have a vision of the world we dream of, the one that could come…if the Palestinians allow it.

So here is my vision – of a time when the painting is on sale…when the Palestinians seriously want peace and an end to this endless war. I dream of a day:

• when Muslim extremism ceases to exist and Islam doesn't consider non-Muslim "infidels" worthy of death and terror.
• when Palestinians recognize Israel is too strong to be destroyed and are willing to live WITH it permanently on viable borders that aren’t simply a staging ground for their next war.
• when Palestinian mothers say to their husbands and government - enough. We won't lose any more sons. Stop the terror, stop the rockets and go talk.
• when the world says to the Palestinians (and Iranians) - NO, you cannot continue. WE will stop you. Israel has the right to live, a right to land, a right to peace and until you negotiate, we will not give you, we will not support you, we will not back you and we will not arm you.
• when, God willing, my third son doesn't have to be a soldier as my first and now my second has to, or a time when my sons’ closets aren’t filled with green clothes, when there are no bullets in my home and no talk of violent attacks or incoming rockets.

I dream of a day, perhaps, when I can get in my car and drive to Amman for shopping after lunch in Jerusalem - and see not a gun or a fence along the way. And perhaps I’ll stay in Amman overnight, perhaps not. The consideration will be what I want to do and not my Israeli passport, security and safety.

I dream of a day when my children don’t look and wonder at the person who walks in the restaurant because there is no fear of violence.

I dream of a day when I can wander the hills of my land without concern for guards and escorts, when a mountain or field calls to me through the car window and I can stop the car and not have to think if it is near an Arab village…or a firing range.

No, I explained to my Brazilian friend – I do not see a light at the end of this tunnel we are in but I know what the world outside the tunnel would look like. We who live in this world are not without vision or hope. We are simply realistic enough to understand that desperation does not make reality; that wanting peace is wonderful, unless the other side does not…and then it becomes a weakness they exploit.

The underlying truth here is that we who pride ourselves on being on the Right side of this great debate of our lives and realities are no less interested in peace and security than those on the Left. We dream, as you do, of a day when there will be peace, when our sons will not have to guard our borders with such vigilance. We yearn for the days when rockets stop and guards are no longer needed at malls and restaurants and airports.

The difference is not in the dreams and hopes we have for the future of our nation, but rather in the path we think we must take to get there. We know that appeasement and surrender simply whets the appetites of our enemies, feeds their thirst to have it all.

We have tasted of the bitter waters of surrender, unilateral actions, and land trades and find today’s reality is a direct result of these desperate and incorrect policies. Tomorrow’s peace will come only when today’s partners want it. Until then, the painting isn’t even for sale so talk of what we will pay is not only premature, it is potentially suicidal and most definitely bad politics.

That's right - as I sit here working ... a rocket was launched at my country, as two were yesterday, one the day before. Two days ago, it was two people treated for shock, before that, a direct hit on an empty warehouse. The building destroyed, but thankfully no one was hurt. And so it continues.

Until this morning when a man, a foreign worker who came from far with the hope of earning money and perhaps returning to his family...got up and went to work in the fields of our country. He works in a hot house, growing wonderful produce in a land of sunshine and little water. And a rocket slammed into the hot house...and he died. It would be, I think, more appropriate to say he was killed, to say he was murdered. Yes, that's what I'll say - this morning a man was murdered in my country because in a nearby place there is a people and a culture that finds it acceptable, even holy, to murder.

I don't yet know the man's name - I do know I never met him and never will. His body, or what is left after being hit by a rocket hard enough to kill, will likely be returned to his family - the end of a dream, a nightmare just begun.

And in a far off land, President Obama may or may not hear of this attack; he may or may not think of that poor man's family, of the agony of that innocent family. No, sadly, President Obama is more upset about Israel building in our own capital and of our rebuilding a synagogue in the exact location in which it was destroyed by other Arab violence and hatred.

A man died today - and President Obama is calling on Israel to work towards peace. The irony, the stupidity, the misguided righteousness is enough to make you sick.

Each time Israel does something the Arabs do not like, there are two responses they issue. Sometimes, I feel like they reach into a hat and select one. It is always the same - either they are going to end the peace process...to which I desperately want to ask...WHAT peace process...or, they are threatening yet another Intifada.

For those unfamiliar with the term - an Intifada is a fancy word for mindless rioting and terrorism. Intifada is a code name for firebombs and stone attacks...but worse - suicide bombers in our malls, our buses, our restaurants. Intifada means - open season on murder...the more innocent, the younger, the better.

This week, the threat cards are being played for two reasons. The first is that Israel is daring to approve new apartments for families in our capital, Jerusalem. The new apartments would be in the north of Jerusalem (not the eastern areas as some inaccurate news outlets are reporting). The apartments would be built on unoccupied lands - open fields, directly adjacent to and within the area of Ramat Shlomo - a neighborhood I can see from my office window.

No, I'm not saying the Israeli government was particularly adept in how it handled the announcement, but there was more politics than reality in the US response and condemnation and a fair amount of stupidity in the US failure to understand the facts on the ground.

More curious, however, than the Ramat Shlomo fiasco...is the second reason why the Arabs are threatening yet another Intifada. In 1948, the beautiful Hurva synagogue was destroyed during our War of Independence. That was in May, 1948 after the United Nations voted to divide Palestine into two states - a Jewish one and an Arab one.

The day we declared the re-establishment of a Jewish homeland in Palestine and named that country Israel - five Arab nations invaded, promising they would push the Jews into the sea. They called out to the Arab residents and told them to leave their homes, to get out of the way of the incoming Arab countries and by and large, they did. They left...but the rest of their plan didn't work. Israel not only held onto the land promised to us...or most of it, we even captured much of the land that would have been an Arab state. This is the price of violence and war...when you choose war, sometimes you lose. They lost.

The synagogue in the Old City of Jerusalem was lost...as was the entire Old City. Where for thousands of years Jews have prayed...suddenly, we were denied access to our holiest of sites, the last remaining wall of the Holy Temple, last destroyed in 70 CE (the Western Wall is actually a retaining wall and not part of the Holy Temple structure itself).

There were no cries of religious intolerance from 1948 to 1967, no international demands that Jews have access to the Temple Mount. US presidents and Popes didn't decry our inability to worship...nor did they care that hundreds of graves, centuries old...were destroyed, their tombstones broken, scattered, and used to build latrines by the Jordanian army.

The Hurva synagogue lay in ruins...when Israel recaptured the Old City of Jerusalem in 1967, our leading general, Moshe Dayan, did a very stupid thing...stupid because the world took our generosity for granted, our sacrifice was for nothing. The Temple Mount is the site where our two Temples were built, the site where Abraham almost sacrificed Isaac. Christian belief says it is the site of the ascension and Muslim tradition credits Mohammed with ascending to heaven from there as well. On that fateful day in 1967, Moshe Dayan gave the Temple Mount to the Arabs because on the ruins of our Temple, they had built a mosque (a common practice that they repeat on top of many synagogues and churches to stake their claim).

In any case, after Jerusalem was again in our hands...we opened the city to all religions. For 19 years, we could not pray or touch the Western Wall and yet not even 19 days have passed where we have blocked Arabs from tending to the place. Sometimes, like today, when the Arabs are pulling their latest Intifada card and promising violence, there are restrictions -but still, thousands of Arabs are allowed where Jews are not.

So for the last 60+ years, the Hurva synagogue ruins have filled the place...but slowly a few years ago, Israel began rebuilding it - as fine and beautiful as it ever was. It is located in the middle of the Jewish quarter - a good 5 minute walk from the Western Wall and the Temple Mount...that is fact - I have walked the path many times.

From the site of the Hurva synagogue, you walk between numerous stores, down about 100 steps...perhaps even more. You walk across a large, open plaza...and only then do you approach the Temple Mount...and yet, the Arabs are threatening another Intifada because we dared to rebuild the synagogue.

They say we are trying to "Juda-ize" Jerusalem and I am torn between anger and amusement. There is no reason to make something that is inherently Jewish...Jewish again. Jerusalem - was founded...by the Jews, sustained and nurtured...by the Jews. It is our city, our capital, our promise, our destiny.

We have been prepared to share it and live in peace but where we were driven from it once, we never will be again. Tonight in Jerusalem, we celebrate the rebuilt and reopened Hurva synagogue.

For this, the Arabs threaten. Hamas even says it is grounds for war. End of peace process...Intifada...war - I wish someone would tell the Arabs that their ongoing threats are useless and prove their lack of credibility.

But more, I wish the world would tell the Arabs that it is violence that got them where they are today - trying desperately through hatred and terrorism to get what they could have gotten 60 years ago with a simple positive answer to the United Nations.

That boat sailed long ago - or rather, that boat was torpedoed by the Arab nations and lies in ruin below the sea. If there is a peace process, it will not be served by threats and if they do not learn to live with the Hurva synagogue rebuilt on the very spot where it stood 60 years ago...there is no hope.

There will be another war, another Intifada, another wave of terrorism. I am as convinced of that as I am that the US administration will continue to grovel whenever and wherever it can. I have seen one son go to war. It is more than any mother should have to see and yet I come to realize that it is very likely war will come to my family again.

I don't know when or why, but judging from the past, it is likely the reason will be as senseless as today's threats. We rebuilt a synagogue the Arabs destroyed 60 years ago...on land that is ours, always has been and always will be. The Arabs can learn to deal with it, or they can threaten us.

Just as there are always two responses from the Arabs to pretty much any occurrence in the Middle East, there are two realities they must learn. The first is simply that we will rebuild and, if we have to, we will fight. the second is that time runs in only one direction - forward. You cannot rewind the clock - not a day, not a month, and certainly not 60 years.

Four years ago, I went around Gush Katif in its last days and as I visited each settlement for what I knew would be the last time, I went into each synagogue…and took a stone. Sometimes it was a piece of the floor, now broken as the holy ark and benches were removed; sometimes a piece of the decorative wall outside that welcomed people as they arrived for prayer.

The first stone came from Kfar Darom. The second from Moshav Katif…and so it went. I quickly realized that if I didn’t write the name of each place on the stone, I would never remember where it came from and so my friends gave me a pencil and with that I wrote the names. Netzer Hazani, Atzmona, Ganei Tal…and so it went. I didn’t tell anyone about the stones. I don’t know why exactly, only that I felt that I had stolen something precious, something that wasn’t mine and yet, had I left it there, it would be lost to all of us.

In Kfar Darom, someone had left a picture of the Lubavitcher Rebbe on the floor in the synagogue. I took that too and put it with my other pictures – there was no shame there, but the stones were carefully wrapped and kept in a box. They sat there more than two years while I pondered what to do with them.

I thought of donating them to a local synagogue, but changed my mind. I thought of somehow building it into the concrete and stones of the home I am building, but changed my mind. I lent them once to my city for a display of items in honor and memory of Gush Katif, and worried frantically until they were finally returned.

At a loss as to what to do, who to ask, what to say…I kept inside me this painful feeling that I had done something wrong…that in the midst of the horrible suffering of so many people, 9,000 people and communities…I had taken something without permission. Would anyone really care that I had a bunch of stones when lives had been torn apart? My mind went over and over what I had done. Why? Why had I taken them? There was no one left to ask, when I took the stones. And had I not taken them, they would simply have been left to be abandoned by the Israeli government, desecrated by the Palestinians. So logical and yet nothing brought me comfort or lessened my shame.

One day while driving, I thought of Rachel Saperstein. She and her husband had welcomed me to Gush Katif a number of times. I went there with foreign guests, journalists, and Rachel and Moshe explained why expelling Jews and destroying Gush Katif was meaningless, stupid, and dangerous. They welcomed my parents and my daughter and me when I made a more personal visit, and Rachel answered the phone when I called her. And while I had collected stones, Rachel had gone on to create Operation Dignity (www.operationdignity.com) – a meaningful and real way to help the people of Gush Katif, with dignity and honor…and I had collected stones.

Deeply embarrassed, I told her about the stones…and she was enthralled, excited, grateful. How can you thank me for stealing from you? I wanted to ask her and not once did she make me feel that I had desecrated, destroyed, stolen. She did the rest. Rachel called and arranged for someone to take the stones.

“Please, don’t use my name,” I told them. They didn’t really understand but they respected my request and came and took the stones. It was so hard for me to part with them. I asked them to take care of them, silly, I said to myself. They are holy, I wanted to tell them – all that is left of so many beautiful synagogues.

I imagined what could be done with the stones, but didn’t suggest.  It wasn’t my place, my suffering, my synagogues that had been destroyed…and they weren’t really my stones. A talented artist could build something, a memorial to the synagogues. Something to share with others, something to remember and to stand. Something holy. Something precious.

A few days ago, someone called me and invited me to a special event honoring those who had helped the communities of Gush Katif during and after the expulsion. I was a bit embarrassed – what had I ever really done to help them? I’d tried but hadn’t really accomplished anything. I never thought once of the stones when they called. It was the dedication of a Legacy Center, directed by Mochi Better to remember and educate people – and three artists were commissioned to create beauty out of sadness. Ayala Ben-Simchon and Anat Yaakov decorated some of the walls, and Ayala Azran from Neve Dekalim, now in Ein Tzurim was given the stones with which to create an everlasting remembrance for the synagogues and for Gush Katif. In one artistic piece, she captured the sea and the trees, and the communities…the synagogues…with a piece from each one, a stone, my stones.

My stones which were collected after all the people had been taken away. My stones which I took, without permission and kept in a box waiting to understand what I was meant to do with them.

My stones…which were never mine…have been returned to the amazing people of Gush Katif and they have been turned into a thing of beauty, as once these same people had turned all of Gush Katif into such beauty. Even in my wildest imaginings, I could not have pictured the symbolism and intricate work that the artist managed to add. Ayala created a lasting memorial.

Somehow knowing that those precious stones had been returned and were now back with the people of Gush Katif brought back again the sadness of those times when Israel unilaterally and insanely imagined it could make peace alone. It also brought a strange sense of peace…which also shames me. The people of Gush Katif are not home. For more than four years, Israel has refused to properly see to their needs after so improperly destroying all that they had built. Until the people of Gush Katif are properly settled and allowed to channel all the energy and creativity and love that is so much a part of them into rebuilding, the stones will never really be at peace.

I long to see the stones again, to touch them, to apologize. I guess I shouldn’t apologize for taking them from Gaza. There they would have been as abandoned and desecrated as the rest of the stones from which they were taken. But I will apologize for there having been a need to take them. I will apologize for the indignity of having been stored in a temporary box for two years, as the people of Gush Katif have been “stored” for four years now. And I will finally part from my stones, knowing that their future, like their past, is now once again back with the right people, the good people, of Gush Katif.

Planting a Tree...and a Child...in Israel

Seasons in Israel are so different than they were in the United States. In the US, they seemed to gently glide, one into the other. Summer gave way to cooler nights and then the leaves began to turn all manner of wonderful colors. Fall had arrived. The frost came and the nights became colder. Winter. And so it went, season after season, each marked by a gradual changing of the weather. Each season came with a bit of warning, a taste before the fury of the cold or the heat. Fall and spring were welcome breaks from the extreme and provided the glide into the next.

In Israel, like life itself, the seasons are less defined, more drastic. One day the cold comes; winter...but what happened to the fall? And then it suddenly gets hot and summer has arrived; somehow spring never really comes to Israel. Of course, the temperatures are less extreme than they were where I lived in the States. Snow here is rare; summer's typically hotter and drier.

One thing that marks the transition between winter and summer is Tu B'Shevat - it's the new year of the trees. Yes, that's right - even the trees can celebrate their own fresh start. Tu B'Shevat is when the almond trees start to blossom and you know that though winter hasn't finished, the land is reawakening already. In America, Tu B'Shevat was the time we donated a few dollars to have someone plant a tree in Israel.

Many decades ago, a diplomat from Burma came to Israel on a visit. He toured the land and then congratulated the surprised Israelis. He was so impressed by Israel's "deforestation" plan that had cleared huge areas of trees. His country, you see, is covered with trees and in order to settle and make place for cities and homes, they must knock down the trees - a difficult and time consuming process at that time.

Israel has no deforestation plan - quite the opposite. We plant - everywhere we can, even in the desert. One of Israel's great innovations was drip irrigation - a method to minimize water usage while maximizing growth. So what does this all have to do with us?

Well, on Friday, I finally gave in and stole time with my husband and youngest son. We drove to a nursery and bought flowers and flowers...and a tree, and not a terribly small one either and then we returned home and planted it in our backyard.

Shmulik and my younger son dug the whole and together with their father struggled the tree into place. I've planted other trees in Israel - long ago the first time I came to Israel at the age of 16, several years ago in a different home that we had bought, and now in this home. Each time, there is such an incredible feeling of connection with this land.

With this tree, I plant myself that much deeper. And as I gazed out this morning at the thriving tree, strong in the ground, its leaves proudly fluttering in the wind, I realized that I have planted my life here and more, the lives of my children. With each son that enters the army, with each daughter that performs her national service, our roots grow deeper, stronger, wider. The almond trees are blossoming, and so too, is my family.

I am humbled by both, grateful for both.

The Gift of Peace

What a misleading title that is...the gift of peace. No, I don't really believe Israel and the Middle East will see peace any time soon. I could point fingers at the Arab countries who refuse to accept our existence, to the Palestinians who continue on the path of violence. I could list the rock throwing, firebombing, ongoing rocket attacks and tell you how many Arabs were caught with how many knives this week in varying lengths.

I could write of our current and past leadership that showed weakness to an enemy that thrives on it and to a world that accepts, again and again, the injustice of blaming the victim rather than finding the true cause.

There is no gift of peace any time soon in the Middle East - no matter what other leaders such as Barack Hussein Obama mistakenly believes or wants to believe. His suggestion that everyone is responsible for blocking peace...Netanyahu, the right-wing, the left-wing, perhaps the last man on the moon...shows he understands nothing.

I can tell you of increasingly dangerous armaments, or Iran's nuclear plans and Europe's blindness. I can write of Al Qaida, Hamas, Hezbollah - all born of the same violent cloth, and I can write of all that threatens the future here and where you are too...but that would be the opposite of my direction for today.

Because despite all that I have written so far, the truth is simply that peace will come - today, in fact...in not so many hours.It will come for a brief time only - sad, but true...at last so far. Today is Friday - the first day of our brief weekend, the last work day for some. It's a day of preparation here in Israel - we are preparing for tomorrow.What I love about Fridays is that they represent endings and beginnings.

We are saying goodbye to the past week - whatever we didn't do...we let go. It will be there on Sunday and need to be done. Whatever disappointments we had, whatever didn't go right...Sunday will come and allow us yet another chance to correct it. So we end and know on Sunday we will begin again.Shabbat, Saturday, is about cleansing - your house, your body, your mind, your soul.

It's about taking time to make a bigger, better meal than you had time for the rest of the week. Taking more time for your family, longer discussions - and not about work and daily pressures. It's about putting away the trappings of this world - the phones, the computers, the televisions, the cars...whatever.It is so symbolic of where I am in my life.

Shabbat is the day in between last week and next week - and yet it has a character all its own. It is a moment of calm because psychologically you really do succeed in forgetting the past and the future. If ever time were to stop...this is the moment we would want to hold. If tomorrow never comes...we can actually relish staying here in this moment.Elie is finishing the army.

Shmulik is beginning. This transition period has its own character, its own sweetness. What will Elie do after the army? Will he really leave it or choose at the last minute to continue (as some do)? I don't know and won't know until one or the other happens.Will Shmulik go into the Tank Division? So far, it is looking strongly that he won't. Kfir? Givati? Golani? Does it really matter in the end? I won't know where he is going for a few more days or weeks.

But there is peace coming today - peace in having Shmulik home, in knowing that Elie is returning right after Shabbat for a special course he will attend next week. Peace in knowing that he isn't really in a dangerous place. His checkpoint, though surrounded by Arab villages, is in a relatively quiet place and the base itself is well located and secure. Next week, he'll be sleeping at home each night - a whole week of seeing him each evening.

There is peace in the smell of food filling the house; the candles set and ready to be lit on the small table near the mirror. The gift of peace is one that comes each week with the Sabbath...and leaves with it as well. To live in a world of quiet, of family, of home - it is a taste of better times to come. When? I don't know but with the Sabbath comes the knowledge that we can survive the whole week, month, year, and the decades and centuries because each week we are given that small bit of time in which we pull into ourselves and our families.

May God grant peace to the world, to Israel, His people.

May He grant peace to the medics and rescue workers who have returned from Haiti; and to little Wadley Elysee, a six-year old Haitian child suffering from severe heart defects. Wadley's medical record was sent to Israel several months ago, but there was no way to get him to Israel for surgery that he needs to save his life. Without the surgery, Wadley would probably not live to see the age of 10. While in Haiti, Israeli doctors took the time to find him amidst all the chaos and destruction. Wadley and his mother were flown back to Israel with the returning aid mission and he will soon have his surgery, another gift from Israel. May Wadley know the peace of Shabbat and live a long and healthy and happy life.

And finally, to my sons - to the three...and to the two. To each of them, to all of them. May you always cherish the Sabbath as a time of peace, no matter what wars you are called upon to fight in the future. May you be safe everywhere you go, blessed for your service and know that wherever you go, you take my prayers and my love.

Shabbat shalom.

Thoughts that Break the Heart

There is a debate going on in Israel now - two sides, each in agony.

There are those who say Gilad Shalit has been in captivity too long. We have to do all, we owe all, to bring him home. More than three years, Hamas has gotten away with violating international law by denying Israel and his parents their basic right of contact with their son. For more than three years, Hamas has refused to allow international representatives such as the Red Cross, to even see Gilad, confirm he is well treated, safe, healthy. Unimaginable agonies, unbearable torture. His parents have lived with all of this, traveling the world, begging them to listen, to do something for this boy who grew into a man without them. He was 19 when he was taken, as my Elie was 19 when he entered the army. Today, Gilad is 23-years-old...his parents have missed so much in those years. It is enough.

There are those who say that leaving Gilad in captivity breaks all that we hold dear. We don't leave a soldier behind; morale will fall among incoming troops if they can't believe their country will do all to bring them home.

All this, in varying degrees, might be true. That is one side of this great divide. They will agree to release 1,000 Palestinian prisoners, their identity and crimes almost unimportant, for the one son that Hamas holds. Yes, they smile sadly, the numbers are absurd, but what can we do? We can't leave Gilad there; would you leave Gilad if he were your son? Look now, in the mirror and answer that question for yourself. If it was your son, could you, would you, leave him there?

On the other side of this great divide, are those who say that though they want Gilad home, it cannot be at any price. We must think of the future, says this group. We must think with our heads and not our hearts. Hearts are for feeling, for rejoicing and for mourning - the head is what we must use. These 1,000 - beyond the absurdity of the equation - are murderers, terrorists - convicted security prisoners who were not strolling on the beach when they were taken into custody. Some have murdered and the blood of their victims thrills them. They yearn for more, promise there will be more.

It was Hamas and the Palestinians who created the concept of proportionality. Look, said Hamas - yes, we shot 124 missiles into Israel in November, 2008 and even more in December, 2008 - but look what Israel did in January, 2009. Our missiles mostly missed and hit open fields. We only killed a few, maimed a few, traumatized a lot, but really, how much actual damage did we do? Israel - they hit their targets; the artillery smashed the buildings from which we launched rockets and even if the buildings were attached to others that fell too...look at the damage. Proportionality! Where, says this group of Israel, where is the proportionality in releasing 1,000 for 1?

Within this group that agonizes over Gilad no less than the first group, are Arnold and Frimet Roth - two nice people who never wanted to do more than raise their children in Jerusalem, in Israel, in a place they love. Their daughter, Malki was friendly and outgoing. I know, though I never met her, because we are friends with a young woman who was Malki's friend and was on her way to meet Malki on a beautiful August summer day in Israel in 2001.

But this young woman never got there. Instead of meeting Malki, she heard the news. Sbarro Pizzeria had become the latest suicide bombing...15 people, including young Malki and seven other children, died that day. Murdered by a terrorist couple who slipped through a checkpoint, the young Palestinian man carrying a guitar filled with explosives with a woman on his arm to give him cover.

There is a great divide in Israel - do we release Malki's female killer, who served but 5 years of 16 consecutive life sentences, who to this day, wishes she had killed more. She said, in an interview just a while back, "I am not sorry for what I did. I will get out of prison and I refuse to recognize Israel’s existence…"

This woman helped murder 15 people...destroy families forever. She is one, only one of 1,000. Those who are against the prisoner deal include huge numbers of soldiers in the standing army. There is no loss of morale there. They worry about Gilad; they want Gilad home; and they tell their parents - if it was me, don't allow this deal. Don't let them release 1,000 for me.

And where am I on this great divide? I am sitting on the fence, with the third large group of people. We on the fence are in unspeakable agony. Our hearts aching, our eyes filled with tears. We are parents who cannot for a moment imagine the horror, the agony of years slipping knowing our child needs us and we can't answer that call. We are Israelis and Jews - so incredibly proud of our country, our army, our people, for worshiping life and not death; for having values that focus so much on a single life that we would even consider the absurdity of trading 1,000 for a single life.

One day, I am for the deal - not because I believe it is just (it isn't); not because I believe it is in Israel's best interests (it isn't), but because I just can't bear the suffering any longer. I can't face another day of knowing Noam and Aviva Shalit are suffering, that Gilad is alone.

The next day, I am against the deal because I know that what we release today, will sneak back in to murder and kill again. There will be more funerals, more pain - unspeakable, horrible agony. Lives crushed, families torn apart and so many more parents who will mourn like Frimet and Arnold Roth.

On those days, when I am against the deal, I want to point out the simplest of truths. What we should do is call up Hamas and the German mediators and say:

Good morning and thanks for your efforts...really. But, no thanks. We realized that despite all, this is a bad idea because these terrorists and murderers will just come back and kill and kidnap again. So, let's stop and think. It is, as you clearly know, very important to us that Gilad comes home...but we cannot endanger others in the future. So, here's the deal. Pick one prisoner - any one you want. We don't care how despicable, how inhumane this person is. We're willing to release the most vile creature who has done the most horrible things. Hey, we released a child-killer last time...so why not another? Pick one. You know what, because, like you, we realize the value of Gilad compared to what we are holding in our prisons - so have a great day. Pick two.

You want that Ahlam Tamimi, the Sbarro murderer? You want Marwan Barghouti? They are yours. We don't care. That's our deal. It's a bargain really - two for one. We can send them to you within the hour,  just say the word.

Oh, by the way, we forgot to mention something. If you don't want this deal; Israel is finished with negotiating. We are shutting off OUR electricity that we have been pumping into Gaza all these years. We are stopping shipment of OUR fuel that we have sending to Gaza. We are closing deliveries of everything but food and medicine.

Turkey has plentiful water. A ship from Turkey takes how long? 12 hours? We are shutting off OUR water that we have been pumping into Gaza. Tell Turkey to fill the tankers and start shipping in their water...they certainly have more than we have. A few years back, we contracted to buy shiploads of water from them. We even paid for it and then donated the water right back after an earthquake there. So, we'll give them 24 hours to begin shipping water to Gaza.

And your sick people...the ones who travel regularly to Israel for medical treatments...tell them we wish them luck. Maybe you can go to Cairo, although their medical care isn't anything near as good as ours, but that's your problem, not ours.

So, there's our deal - two Palestinians for one Israeli, and we keep supplying you with fuel, electricity, water, and medical care as we have for yours...or, no deal and no Gilad, no electricity, no water, no fuel…

So, do let us know and please tell Gilad that we love him and are doing this for him too because hopefully, one day soon, he'll come home and marry and have children. And he shouldn’t have to worry about their being kidnapped or blown up in a pizzeria.

For Gilad and all of Israel, we aren't going to release 1,000 for one...we're going to be more than reasonable. You have 24 hours to decide...2-1 offer ends and the electricity, water, and fuel stops.

That is the answer many in Israel want to deliver to Hamas. They stand today, on one side, and beg Israel’s leaders to listen, just as Gilad’s parents and huge numbers of Israelis sit on the other side.

I sit here on the fence, shamed that I can't at least move to one side and even more shamed that I can't look in the mirror to ask myself what I would do; I can't answer the question if it was my son. I don't think my heart could continue to beat, my head continue to think, my lungs continue to breathe and so, like much of Israel, I sit here shamed and saddened, knowing that others will soon make this decision and either Gilad will be betrayed, or Malki will be betrayed…and worst of all, Gilad’s children and my own will likely pay the price.

Could it be real this time?

How many times can you fall for the same trick? The same lie?

How many times can someone yank your cord, pull your chain? The answer is directly related to how much you care and the depth of your need.

Israel as a nation keeps falling for the same propaganda, the same trick, the same lies. Each time, our hearts fly, our hope soars, our eyes fill...and then each time, our enemies rejoice as we realize we've been fooled again. They laugh at our gullibility and how easy it was for them. Just a rumor is enough to set us to hoping, to praying.

They play us so perfectly, each time, every time, all the time. They did it last year, last month, last week and likely this week too.

Gilad will be free next Friday - this is the latest in a long series of rumors. Gilad has been transferred to Egypt awaiting release - that was the last time...or perhaps the time before that. This time it is Hamas.

Once it was Hezbollah - Ehud and Eldad are alive. Hurry, make the deal. They would hint of injuries and talk of exchanges while denying us even a glimpse. Despite all evidence, they are alive...don't you want them, they taunted us?

Germany is negotiating for Ron - then it was Hezbollah too, and the Iranians, maybe Syria. Maybe he is alive, maybe he is dead. Don't you want him? A child grows up without her father; a woman made a widow while her husband yet lives.

Back to Lebanon and Hezbollah - mothers who want to believe, need to believe. Last time it was three soldiers. Last time it was two soldiers. This time, it is one soldier. Last time they were dead...returned to us in coffins. This time, he is alive. We believe, we pray, we believe, we hope. Please, let him be alive; let him come home this time.

Over and over, their faces haunt us and the need to bring them home burns inside of us - almost to the point of desperation...almost to the point, they hope, that we will make a deal beyond all reason. In their equation, Gilad is worth 1,000 prisoners - a mere video showing him reading from a piece of paper is worth 20.

We needed to believe Ehud and Eldad are alive...against all odds, against all evidence. And so we believed and seeing their coffins being unloaded as we turned over a child-killer and other terrorists, alive and well to return to their celebrations, was a massive kick in our collective stomachs and souls. We felt sick and nauseous. They celebrated with their guns shooting in the air; we cried bitter tears. Again, all lies. Again, they give us mutilated bodies. Again, we mourn.

But Gilad is alive, we tell ourselves. We have seen him. They have dared to show us videos. He looks thin, but healthy. He's beautiful. He has to come home. We have to bring him home.

Hamas says negotiations are going well. Hamas says we have made progress...

We lost a lot of faith, as a nation, when Ehud and Eldad were returned to us, only to be buried. Hamas understood this and played us yet again.

They knew they could not get away with claims and so they dangled videos - close enough to see, to hear, but not to touch. For days, we all watched Gilad over and over again. We looked at his eyes, how he moved his hands. The shuffle near the camera, the little smile he gave. This is a game they are playing, Gilad told us. You know it; I know it, but bring me home.

Our hearts broke, as Hamas knew they would. Today, the phone beeps and the Internet sites carry the news - Gilad will be free next Friday on the eve of a Muslim holiday.

Could it be real this time?

Are we falling, yet again, for Hamas' emotional torture and blackmail?

Will we ever stop being so gullible?

No, the answer is no. We will always weep, always worry, always pray to bring our sons home. We do not glory in martyrdom and death. We want our sons with us, alive, well, safe, home. Yes, we will cry a river of tears between now and next Friday, and a river more if these rumors prove, yet again to be false.

That once bothered me, that Hamas could play us for the weakness of caring for a single life of a single soldier to such a crippling extent. But I see what they are, what they have become. I see a society that encourages its children to hate and to die. That is what comes from the violence they preach, from the value they place on their own lives. No, I would rather my son believe he is the center of my world, than believe he is expendable. I would rather he worship a God who loves him and his people and commands that he seek life, than that he worship a god who calls for Jihad and Shahid and death.

No, it no longer bothers me that Hamas plays us so perfectly. I would rather live in a society that can be fooled, time after time after time, because ultimately what it shows is that we are a country built on hope, on love, on life.

I hope, I pray, that Gilad Shalit will come home next Friday to a family that has waited more than three long, horrible years for his return, to a country that has stood by his family, and by him.

It will be another hard week for Gilad's family while they wait and see if this is yet another example of Hamas' inhumane and barbaric torture. It will be a week in which we all pray that this nightmare has finally ended and that Gilad will come home alive and well.

I have little doubt that Israel will be called upon to release hundreds of prisoners for Gilad, including murderers and terrorists. I have little doubt those we release soon, will return to their ways and we will capture them yet again in the future. I have little doubt Hamas will try to kidnap another Gilad and so it will all return again and again.

I don't have a solution; I don't believe we can change who we are and what we are and so we will cry this week, each week, every week. But we will also celebrate. Hopefully we will celebrate Gilad's coming home...but even if we don't, we will celebrate living in a country that cares enough about its sons to encourage them to live and not to die.

Ron Arad, Gilad Shalit, Ehud Barak and Israel

I've been thinking a lot about Gilad Shalit for many months which. considering he's been held by Hamas for more than three years, isn't unusual. Gilad Shalit's situation is every soldier's mother's nightmare. Only death can be worse than what the Shalit family has endured and there are times when I wonder if even death is worse.

So many say to me, "Come on, you don't really believe he is alive, do you?"

I have to confess, I do. I have no evidence, no strong believe, no facts on wish to base this presumption. I recognize that it is an emotional decision - it hurts to much to think that once again this is only the twisted tortured workings of Hamas, though I know that they, Hezbollah, have done this very thing countless times so successfully.

It is Hamas that continues to violate international law without punishment or even large-scale condemnation from anyone but Israel and a few stragglers. Certainly the Red Cross has taken no action; the UN has predictably done nothing. Silence reigns from the majority of European leaders. To their collective shame, no international representative has been allowed to see Gilad, to check on his condition, to demand regular contact with his family. And worse, no sanctions, no demands, no punishment, no real consequences have been levied against Hamas for this indecency.

This is so different from how Israel treats Palestinian prisoners, so different from the college degrees many of them are earning, so different from the regular visits they receive with their families. And yet, Israel is afraid to trigger the anger of the world by even temporarily suspending the rules that Hamas has systematically and completely ignored for years. Why does a Palestinian sitting in our jail for security crimes, even murder, have the right to see his family, to hear of his children and his parents, while Gilad gets nothing, sees nothing?

The case of Gilad Shalit reminds us too clearly of Ehud Goldwasser and Eldad Regev, and yet the differences are startling and have to be mentioned. There was clear evidence that at least one of the two soldiers had died during the cross-country attack on the Lebanese border, and that the second would have been, at best, in critical attention. Knowing how the Arabs, Hamas, Hezbollah, whatever, focus on causing injuries rather than healing them, it was always doubtful that any surviving soldier would have received the necessary treatment to survive.

Beyond all corruption, beyond all hatred and friction they caused in our society, I find no forgiveness for the simple failture of the Olmert government to prepare us, the people, to accept the very real possibility that both soldiers had died in the raid and all the moment when we would be faced with bodies and not live soldiers. The army and government only really tried to make us believe this towards the end, almost two years and a war later. By then, we were no longer ready to really accept it. A humiliating prisoner "exchange" was agreed upon and there was a collective gasp, when Israel first saw the coffins and realized we had been praying and hoping for two years - all in vain.

All indications are that Gilad Shalit was taken alive. Common sense says the conditions under which he has been held have likely been barbaric, that Hamas certainly is not interested in his comfort. Bargaining tool or not, Gilad remains a soldier of Israel, a child of our hearts. And herein lies the second worry I have. There is a scene in my mind that I know Hamas will never let us play out.

It is of the tens of thousands who would line the streets to welcome Gilad home, the outpouring of a nation, the tears of all mothers. What wouldn't we do to have Gilad home...and doesn't Hamas know this.

In the days before Purim and Passover and the High Holidays each year, we know that our enemies will attempt to launch an attack. Our joy is an insult to them, our happiness their undoing. They will not want us to celebrate Gilad's homecoming and they will do something, anything, to prevent that. More than what Gilad has endured in the last three years, the next few weeks and months may well determine his condition.

And that brings us to Ron Arad. This is the other extreme. We know he was taken alive; we know he survived in captivity for some time. Just as we failed to bring Gilad home, we have failed Ron Arad and his family. Today's news report that Arad died in captivity, some 9 years after his capture, feels like a knife to the heart. Deep in my soul, I doubted that he could have lived this long, and wasn't even sure I wanted to imagine a life time of waiting to come home for him. And yet, thinking of him dying alone and seemingly abandoned brings no comfort either.

I am not an advocate of releasing prisoners at all cost. Returning Ron or Gilad in exchange for future kidnappings and more terrorist attacks has never called to me. But where each Israeli government has failed is in the effort to make the world fight this battle.

Magen David Adom should not be part of the International Red Cross and no representatives should be allowed to visit or work in Israel until they make an effort to see Gilad - a real effort that includes threatening the Red Crescent with expulsion and a cessation of all aid and work in Gaza. People say this is collective punishment - has not our nation been collectively punished by suffering three years without Gilad?

The United Nations should not be allowed to continue operations. Immediate work by UNRWA should be stopped immediately until Gilad is brought home. Let the schools close, the camps shut down. No food, no medical aid. Nothing. The world will say this is unfair but what has been done to Gilad and his family is not fair either.

International leaders want to meet with the Palestinians - they should refuse to do so until it is clear that the Palestinian leader is ready to release a statement against violating international law - including the one that requires Hamas to have Gilad examined by international representatives.

Finally, I'm left with sadness when I think of Ehud Barak's recent words. Ill-timed though they were, insensitive to be sure. Ehud Barak is correct - we cannot pay any price for Gilad Shalit. But his mistake is in talking to Israelis when he should be talking to the world. He said, "We are not in western Europe or North America.' This was his way of saying that Israelis must deal with living in the Middle East and the enemies that we have. He is correct - which is why he SHOULD be talking to the Europeans and Americans.

We know where we live and it is natural to agonize for our missing son. Noam Shalit said it best - stop talking, Defense Minister Ehud Barak - at least stop talking to us. Tell the Europeans to stop sending in aid, until Hamas sends Gilad out. Tell them that we understand a prisoner deal must be made and we are ready.

Not to release murderers - because we aren't asking for a murderer. Not to release terrorist masterminds, as we too are not asking for this. We will release as many innocent prisoners as we can - those who perhaps violated the law by being where they were not allowed to be and perhaps those of that sort - all in exchange for Gilad.

No, it won't be thousands, possibly not even 450. But it will be like for like, as is the only way to ensure future kidnappings aren't encouraged. No, the Arabs won't be happy with this but they will accept it - because they need UNRWA schools which should be closed; they need Red Cross assistance, which should be stopped; and they need money from the European Union, which must be delayed. They will not risk international isolation over the life on one soldier, one boy. Gilad isn't worth that much to them - only to us.

Gilad Shalit is not Ron Arad...not yet. But he could be if our governments fail to demand that the world recognize what we already know. We are dealing with an organization that does need international support. Shut it down or force it to comply be refusing any more aid and support now...and Gilad will come home.

We Defeat Ourselves - JTA Blows the Call

Finally, after court battles  and legal haggling and endless delays, the man was clear to reclaim what the courts carefully had determined was his. Whole volumes can be written on how much evidence the man had to provide, how many times he had to provide it, how many lawyers he paid and how many appeals were filed. Finally, the end of the legal wrangling had arrived and the man went with several others to hand out eviction notices. The Arabs seemed to have been expecting them and began pelting them with rocks. In an attempt to defend themselves after two had been hit by rocks (one in the head and one in the chest), one 63-year-old man pulled out a gun and shot in the air.

As is often the case when an Israeli fires into the air, several Arabs complained to the police that they had been injured. It is a known phenomena to many. One Jew fires a single bullet in the air, five Arabs fall and claim to be injured. The media rushes to condemn the violence. The police rush in, separate the parties and begin an investigation. Quietly, weeks later, the police announce no one was injured, the Jews did nothing wrong. Of course, as is often the case, the so-called violence was on page one of major newspapers; the retraction some dozens of pages later, buried deep inside the newspaper, if they even bothered to print it.

In this case, in our latest incident, one Arab insisted he had been shot in the hand and showed the police a scratch. Had the man been hit, explained the Israeli who shot in the air, the man would have lost his hand because of the nature of the bullets he had in his gun. The police confirmed that it was physically impossible for this injury to have been caused in the manner in which the Arab claimed and yet several major news outlets reported this ”shooting” as fact.

No, there were no injuries among the Arabs and the police quickly released the Jews that had been taken into custody based on Arab charges and complaints. Not until after they had been detained, their Sabbath violated, and one man almost denied vital, life-saving medication. Not until the news had their story – no matter how inaccurate it was.

What is amazing is not the story – told so often in various fabrications, but how Israeli media covered the news report. In Jenin, several years ago, there was a talk of a great massacre. One claimed 500 dead, another thousands. At its high, reports of even 5,000 dead filtered out. No, months later the evidence could not be ignored. Not 5,000, not thousands, not 500, not even 100. Fifty-two – and the vast majority gunmen/militants/combatants. We are in the midst of the same lies now with the Goldstone Report and Gaza.

Today, I heard the story directly from someone who was there, one of seven, the wife of the man who fired into the air. She explained to me that it was only when the Arabs started advancing towards her and throwing rocks at her, that her husband raised his gun. They did not come seeking violence, but were quickly surrounded and attacked by a mob. They advanced towards her and her husband went to defend her…and even then, he kept his head and his training. He fired into the air, to distance the rioters and gain help for his wife and friends.

This is Israel - we must defend ourselves. This is, as the man later told the police, our country and if someone throws stones at you when you have broken no law (unlike the people illegally living in the old man's house), you have the right to self-defense. Why would a 63-year-old man seek trouble, he asked the police? He has a pace-maker, for heaven’s sake and was born in the days right after the Holocaust, during a time when Jews did not know how to defend themselves. He defended himself on Friday, and his wife, and the State of Israel arrested him and put him in jail based on the false claims of witnesses who had every reason to lie and no reason to tell the truth.

I have doubts whether anyone from the Jewish Telegraphic Agency (JTA) spoke to any of the Jews involved in the incident - it certainly doesn't seem so from the ridiculous headlines they used: "Jews arrested in brawl over home ownership."

A brawl? Doesn't that give the hint of guilt on both sides? Jews with the backing of the Israeli courts went to issue eviction notices to illegal residents and were attacked with stones. This is a brawl? One wonders whether it is perhaps time to buy JTA a dictionary.

The absurd title is only one inaccuracy. Of course, no one was injured among the Arabs; no one was shot in the hand or elsewhere. According to the witness I spoke to, the police watched the video she had taken and quickly agreed that the claims were false and that there was no way any Arabs were shot by this man's bullets.

Also, telling, however, is the file name (URL address) of the JTA article. While they decided to be a bit more diplomatic in the headlines, the assumption of guilt was there in the file name: http://jta.org/news/article/2009/11/01/1008854/right-wing-jewish-activists-detained-after-brawl-with-arabs-in-jerusalem.

Note the name – “right wing Jewish activists.” Why were they labeled as such by JTA? Was it because they dared to attempt to uphold the court ruling? Was it because they dared to defend themselves? The JTA knows nothing of these people; I have met several.

The JTA, with no evidence and little in the way of facts, has failed to deliver accurate reporting by choosing to apply words it hopes will prejudice the reader. There was no brawl in our homeland on Friday. There was an attempt to serve justice. One that was thwarted by violent Arabs and close-minded police. And there was an attempt to blame the victims of violence by denigrating what happened (a brawl??), and using political labeling to undermine their action.

We defeat ourselves when we surrender our rights and allow others to be granted victory by our cowardice.