Our adversaries are gravely mistaken. Perhaps they believe that, by brutally severing our most beautiful blooms, we will wilt like desert thistles. They overlook that we have been striking our roots in this tough soil for three thousand, two hundred and ninety-five years. Not even a million blood-soaked hoes, of the horrific kind they now proudly showcase online, will manage to uproot us.
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Our adversaries are gravely mistaken. Perhaps they think that because we are a nation that profoundly sanctifies life, our story ends with death. It's true that unlike them, we steadfastly ensure our children experience every possible ounce of a normal life. But it's precisely for that reason that death cannot defeat us. Forces bigger, stronger and more malicious than theirs have tried and failed — time and time again, even in this very region around the Gaza Strip. Yet, here we remain: planting trees, fighting on the roads, and changing babies' diapers.
Our adversaries are gravely mistaken. They seemingly presume that if they make us sufficiently miserable, we will retreat to our "countries of origin," much like the British, French and other foreigners who temporarily resided here for a few decades. Such ignorance. They don't understand that my family members, who immigrated to Israel in 1890, felt their entire lives as though they were born here, while I and my generation, who were indeed born here, have always felt that we consciously chose to migrate here. Yes, we are all Israelis, both by birth and by choice.
Had they studied the history of the Zionist movement, they would have discovered that this is a common thread among all families. Therefore, wherever blood has been spilled, grandchildren and great-grandchildren have already been born. From Yad Mordechai to Kfar Szold. From the Negev to Gush Etzion. Now, they will learn this hard truth, much like their predecessors did.
We must remember that the blood-soaked earth in Be'eri, Nahal Oz, Kfar Aza, Holit and Sufa will once again be blanketed with vibrant carpets of flowers
Our adversaries are gravely mistaken. Perhaps they based their assumptions on intelligence gathered from social networks and the media, mistaking the talk of relocation and threats of "abandoning ship" as representative of Israelis. However, individuals like the late Col. Roy Levy truly represent Israel. Despite being seriously wounded in action in 2012 and 2014, he chose to lead the charge against the adversaries, falling only after neutralizing many of them. If they had known Roy, as I had the privilege to, they would have realized that any efforts to deter him from his mission would have been futile.
Our adversaries are gravely mistaken. They've overlooked what Yehuda Amichai stated long ago: "Jews are not a historical people, nor merely an archaeological one; they are a geological people with breaks, collapses, layers and eruptions of molten lava. Their history ought to be gauged on a different scale." It's a scale they will never comprehend.
Our adversaries are gravely mistaken in their current jubilation at the sound of shovels, beginning to dig the graves of our heroes. They fail to comprehend that, once we conclude covering our departed with earth, those same shovels will be employed once more by us to dig holes for young saplings. These will be planted in memory of the fallen, in the very places we have staunchly defended.
Indeed, our adversaries are gravely mistaken, but we must avoid our own errors. Amid the simmering anger, the numbing pain and the substantial shock from the events and their unfolding, we must remember that the blood-soaked earth in Be'eri, Nahal Oz, Kfar Aza, Holit and Sufa will once again be blanketed with vibrant carpets of flowers. On the lawn beside the dining hall of Kibbutz Be'eri, which currently bears several charred and sooty spots, children will once again play joyfully, and the elders will grumble about their lively noise.
In the same dining room, which will undergo several renovations, a gruff elderly man will stand during a members' meeting to lament that not enough of them attended the memorial service on the most recent Simchat Torah holiday. He'll express that it's a genuine pity because a people unaware of their past have no future. Most attendees at that meeting might not precisely recall the events of that ill-fated holiday and may dismiss his words, exchanging eye rolls with one another, silently signaling their weariness over the perennial issue that the same elderly man insists on raising each year.
Israel at war
