Just this morning Decided Roni played with my phone, which is normally locked with a code. Like a typical child, he played over and over again until the device locked, and so, unlike every morning that I start with WhatsApp updates from the night's events, I reluctantly put the phone in my pocket, muttering, "It's okay, it'll be a calm morning.".
But then, while I was in the car with the kids on my way to school, Avital asked me to turn on the radio so that I wouldn't get bored on the way. I reached for the power button, with the usual expectation in my mind of hearing the voice of her friend Meir waking up, only instead of her friend Meir, the voice of Bezalel Kahn broke out, the sound of whose voice - even before the content of the words had penetrated my ears - signaled to my mind that something bad was happening.
The heart beats faster but the brain goes into idle mode and the information permeates the entire body, a horrific massacre in a small temple on Mount Nof.
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It wasn't brazen settlers who hitchhiked, it wasn't passersby who were disturbing a hardworking tractor driver on the road, it wasn't a cursed train that was passing through the village and disturbing their daily peace, it was residents of Jerusalem who deliberately set out with advance preparation, armed with destructive weapons, who entered a synagogue to massacre Jews during their prayers.
Why did this happen?
I drop the children off at the institutions and race late for morning prayers. I get out of the car and meet worshippers who nod their heads and sigh, and ask something cynically, "Is there a guard at the synagogue?".
Meanwhile, the phone's lock is 'released', I launch WhatsApp and wait. Like an automatic weapon at a shooting range, the phone goes into a fit of vibrational convulsions, and WhatsApp runs in unstoppable traffic. I miss the days when such events would only be featured in tomorrow's newspaper.
The prayer takes on a somewhat heavy seriousness, despite the presence of an ally among the worshippers. The unspoken supplication suddenly feels lacking.
While I was praying, a Jew approached me, a Sephardic priest born into a respectable Sephardic family, a man who had no interest in politics and petty gossip, and he had a book in his hand, not very large but particularly thick, with a color picture of the Chofetz Chaim on the cover, and he said to me, "Do you know why this happened? Look at what the dispute is causing." He showed me what was written there about the seriousness of the dispute, which leads to serious things and even death.
I gesture with my hand and ask what dispute? But he continues on his way and says what dispute? The entire public is in a terrible dispute that has entered the Beit Midrash, we must not continue with this, we must wake up and make peace. I, who do not belong to any side, can only nod in agreement while muttering that we do not understand the accounts of heaven, but surely everyone must take something from such a tragedy.
Needless to say, the lesson after the prayer was dedicated to healing the wounded and raising the souls of the murdered.
In the middle of the week
At the wedding celebration in which I later participated, the words "I will see you bathing in your blood and tell you that by your blood I will live, and I tell you that by your blood I will live" took on meaning.
WhatsApp continues to work overtime and emits messages and suggestions for order following the incident, we must go out to protest, we must not remain silent, no more Arabs are employed, they are being thrown out of neighborhoods, they are being thrown out of houses even from the 8th floor, caution, warning of another terrorist, there is no warning from the security forces, no there is no warning from the security forces, videos from the scene, those to blame for the incident are changing rapidly - the security forces are not tough enough, the prime minister is slacking off, the left is backing up, the Yamins are provoking, the Haredim are not serving, the Israelis are serving and making people angry, thank God at some point the phone went off and I was left disconnected and thoughtful, almost in a daze in the middle of the week.
Running from here to there and meetings, because what can we do, the living who remain here are in charge of life and life goes on, half the time the meetings and work sessions are about talking about the situation instead of about work, and the level of anger is gaining momentum, not that we really have anything to do about it.
Unfortunately, despite my desire and drive, I was unable to go to Jerusalem to accompany the martyrs who were murdered in the Temple Mount on their final journey while they were engaged in constant worship, but the need to go out to refuel bought me time in the car, allowing me to join the funeral from afar and just in time to hear the eulogy of the rabbi of the community where the martyrs were murdered. "Ishmael is a savage and there is no possibility of being a human, but we are human beings and not men of vengeance, for God is the God of vengeance and not us," the words permeate the consciousness with the understanding that we are indeed still in exile, even if on the land of Israel.
The government of restraint and strength
I am reminded of the bombastic statements that are repeated every year at the Memorial and Independence Day ceremonies, ceremonies and a day whose sole purpose is to show the power and might of a country called Israel, but unfortunately it does not really follow the path of Israel, and its leaders bother to tell us that the very existence of the state and its establishment immediately after the end of the damned Holocaust is the victory and the statement our To all nations, because we cannot allow another Holocaust to happen to the people of Israel, but talk alone and actions alone.
The reason-twisting government thinks differently, and under the rule of force that goes out to crush the Gaza Strip, it returns with its tail between its legs, and even gets a slap in the face from the nations of the world for it. Under the rule of force and restraint, the circumcised Ishmaelites of Jerusalem have been celebrating for months, and the government of force and restraint has no way of dealing with this local holocaust, in which Jews are being murdered in a synagogue in Jerusalem like on Kristallnacht.
For a long time, they simply tried to hide this terrible reality from the public. Yes, that's the official policy of the Israel Police. They silenced the stone-throwing at the Jerusalem light rail and other acts of bullying against the Jews of Jerusalem every evening, until unfortunately, in a shocking attack in which a three-month-old baby girl died, and then the secret was blown. Now everyone knows that Jerusalem is under siege, and its Jews walk around it with the feeling that the Zionists are no longer doing enough to save them like they did in the old days.
Because between us, not by might or by power, but by my spirit, says the Lord of hosts. The restrained army will not help us, nor will the police, whose officers appear in the headlines mainly as the captured rather than the captured, because we are in exile here on our own land, and all we can do is distance ourselves from the divisions that have become an inseparable part of the Haredi identity, and pray that the Redeemer will come and say to our troubles, enough is enough.
