Afula Attack…

It isn’t a secret – in Israel, there are several major intersections of traffic through which thousands of soldiers pass each day. One is the city of Afula, which is, in many ways, the gateway to the north.

Whenever Elie was stationed somewhere in the north, he often passed through the Afula central bus station. Afula usually means a long bus ride. Within minutes, the tired soldiers go to sleep, magically to awaken before they need to catch the next bus.

Today, a 16-year-old Arab…do I write boy…do I write man? No, not a man certainly. My definition of manhood doesn’t involve stabbing an 19-year-old repeatedly while he is asleep. And if his age were not tragic enough, Idan Attias had only been in the army for three weeks…His killer is not a child, not a boy, not a man. He is old enough to want to kill; he certainly is no child.

So, this 16-year-old entity, high on love of Allah and the dream of becoming Islam’s latest martyr, boarded a bus in Afula with a young Israeli soldier and waited until he had fallen asleep. The Arab then began stabbing the soldier, who was rushed to the hospital in critical condition where he died a short time ago…may God avenge his blood.

Under interrogation, the Arab says he boarded the bus with the intention of killing Israelis. And as I listened, I thought of how many times my boys slept on buses…and how easily this could have happened to any one of them or any other soldier…anywhere, any time.

And I thought of something else too…I hate doing this, asking you to go to another link to read it but I’m not allowed to double post the article here… I wrote it on The Times of Israel – and called it The End of the World…

I’m sitting in my office in the middle of Jerusalem…and someone’s world has just ended. Somewhere in Israel, a few hours ago, there was a knock and without thinking, the woman walked to the door and opened it. Perhaps it was a man, even a sister or a brother. It doesn’t really matter. 

No words really need to be said…
There would have been at least two soldiers there. Perhaps the soldiers said something; often they don’t have to. The soldiers will stay until the others gather, try to help make arrangements that the family had never, not even once, believed they’d have to make. Where do you want your son buried? And with the question, the mother’s heart will scream again. Nowhere, don’t you understand? Nowhere. Not now, not ever.

And as the family buries their son, the latest victim of senseless violence and hatred bred into a 16-year-old’s bones and blood…

Continued here:  The End of the World… (sorry…)

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