A British writer of my acquaintance, born right after V-E Day, has said that people of the generation before his would say that World War II, especially the Blitz, was the greatest time of their lives. You know, the unity of purpose, the mission, courage under fire, all that.
Well, I think I can safely say from experience that it certainly didn’t feel like that to them at that time it was going on. Yeah, maybe when this is all over, hopefully soon, we’ll look back on it and chuckle. And of course, when we are victorious and have rid ourselves of this threat we’ve been under, and have rid the world of a regime they’ve suffered from, we will be very happy.
But even then – greatest time?
I think it’s hard to actually convey what’s been going on here to those not experiencing it. It’s kind of surreal, and, additionally, as a friend put it to me, the more it continues, the less one wants to talk about it. Simply being unable to simply step into a shower and know you will have the five minutes to take it, or to securely put your head on youth pillow and know that it will stay there until morning – and everything that uncertainty leads to in turn – is bad enough. I’m even racing to finish this article before another siren sounds. But it’s much more than that; we are fortunate to be in Jerusalem. Things are far, far worse in the Center and other parts of the country. I’m dreading seeing what things look like when I go back to work there, and can only imagine what my friends and colleagues who live there are going through. I’m reminded of the Queen Mother in the aforementioned Blitz, who, when the palace was hit, declared that she was happy she could finally look into the faces of those who had been bombed. I’ll take my good fortune, but still feel what she said.
Calling what we have in our basement a “safe room” is frankly more than a bit generous, and not nearly large enough for all of the residents even of our small building. But we pile in. Or most of us do; one elderly neighbor has had a stroke and can’t make it down the few steps, and her husband won’t leave her. I hope they’ll be safe. So we pack in, we read or play games or try to doze, and try to ignore the terrifyingly loud and long successions of booms and flashes overhead; sure, that means our defenses are working, but that’s not much of a reassurance – and, of course, we try not to show any fear, because we have young kids with us.
Our neighbors have been going down with their grandchildren and other relations. Their extended family arrived for a wedding and are now “trapped” here. (On the other hand, a cousin of mine is trapped in Cyprus and can’t wait to be back. That’s Israel.) The other night, our neighbor brought down trays of nuts and fruit and passed them around. His grandkids and our kids all made a loud Borei Pri Haetz on them, and our secular neighbors all answered a loud “Amen!”
Come to think, maybe those Brits did have a point. Indeed, you see this everywhere: There is indeed a real unity of purpose, something supposedly so rare here. There is a real feeling that we are doing exactly what Zionism set out to do, what the State of Israel does: Jews standing up for themselves, protecting ourselves, and, yes, stepping up for the rest of the world, which, at best, seems reluctant to do so for itself.
(Not that we’ll get thanked for it. In any case, we have a huge number of memes to make us smile.)
Sure, as the old expression goes, it was probably best to live in those civilizations and eras that specifically didn’t get into the history books, but that’s never been the fate of us Jews. So we push on, against all odds, and despite all, know we’re on the right track. The BBC today went to Bat Yam, which was very badly hit, and seemed surprised to hear from the residents that they fully supported the war. The BBC! When Churchill visited badly bombed areas, the residents cheered him, telling him they could take it so long as he gave it back, and Churchill cried. Much of the world seems to have forgotten this. Thank G-d we have not.
As Churchill said, “Do not let us speak of darker days: let us speak rather of sterner days. These are not dark days; these are great days – the greatest days our country has ever lived; and we must all thank G-d that we have been allowed, each of us according to our stations, to play a part in making these days memorable in the history of our race.”
Let all of us, around the world, try to remember and live up to that.
