Dear Raphael
Everyone’s had an experience of sorts when visiting Israel. If I may indulge you and other readers I will relay my most moving experience as it transpired a couple of years ago. I went with a group of some 120 young singles on a birthright trip to Israel in the height of the Lebanon war. The tension was palpable, even as we were hailed as heroes for being brave enough to make the trip (another 100 or so had dropped out). Every store, bar, or hotel lobby throughout the land had TV or radio running constantly. Shop keepers in Ben Yehudah told how they were feeling the immediate effects by a notable drop in tourism. A Tzefat family I met in Jerusalem over Shabbat was on a 24 hour respite before having to return because the husband worked in the local hospital where he had been treating some seriously wounded people. A taxi driver in Eilat talked of his daughter who had called to arrange moving down with her family after her house in Haifa had been damaged.

But ask any Israeli anywhere in the land, nu, mah yihyeh – “what will be?” and they will invariably say the same thing: yihyeh biseder – “it’ll be OK in the end.” The steadfastness that so defines Israelis always puts life in better perspective. They always appreciate the solidarity support, openly expressing so, knowing that they never walk alone. Perhaps that was best summed up by the words of the commander in charge of logistics in the Golan who paid a visit to the students on their final night in Jerusalem: “I happen to be in the area because I just attended a funeral of one of my soldiers. But walking in and seeing your faces - so many tourists - have lifted my heavy heart.”

The most heart-rending moment as I recall it was when we were joined by some 24 soldiers on active duty, who were given leave for a few days to interact with the Birthright students. They were young, maybe 21-23 – the same age as so many of our own children. But when they had to don a uniform again and head back to their missions not knowing what the future holds – it was a sobering thought. Seeing them dressed for battle, but with a defiant look on their faces and a fire in their hearts was certainly a bag of mixed emotions.

A whole bunch of us were sitting in the Jerusalem Mall when I turned and said; “you want to know what makes Israel different than anywhere else in the world? If I got up and started dancing in the middle of Brent Cross in London or a Carrie Four in France, I’d be looked upon as a madman and then either arrested or thrown out. Now watch this.” With that I took the soldiers right there in front of Café Hillel in the Mall, and proceeded to dance with them: Oid yavo shalom alainu – peace will yet come upon us. Some stopped to ask and I explained that the soldiers were returning to duty that night, and they too joined in. Others stood on the side smiling and clapping. As they say, only in Israel.

I do remember however the one moment when a taxi driver told me that the leader of Hezbollah was doing a mitzvah by uniting Jews across the land. And I realised then and there everything that is wrong with Israeli society, and indeed so many parts of the Jewish world. Why does it take for Israel, or for Jews anywhere to be under threat before they put aside their differences and look to unite? Why does it take for trauma before people acknowledge that, that which unites us is greater than that which divides us? Why, after all these years of enduring suffering, persecution, terrorism, because of our lack of respect for our differences, do we still not appreciate how to redress the balance and look to value one another as human beings, as friends, as fellow Jews.

Perhaps the most defining moment was when I watched in my hotel room Ehud Olmert donning a yarmulke in the Knesset for all the world to see, when quoting the words of the prophet: “A voice was heard on high, as Rachel cried over her children! And God replied: Stem your tears and your crying for there is reward for your good deeds.” And then God said three of the most beautiful words, indeed the words which PM Olmert concluded his address: “For your children will yet return home!”

For our part, when we forgo our personal agendas and display the right sort of selflessness toward our fellow Jews; when we put aside the personal squabbles for which life is too short, and focus on our common ground; when we appreciate the need to stand tall and be counted and that the greatest most powerful response to terror and all the threats that linger out there is to double and triple our efforts by going the extra mile - then indeed yihyeh biseder – everything will indeed be OK in the end, and all our brothers and sisters in Israel amongst all Jews the world over will know of true salvation, where all those missing in action, with whom are thoughts are at this moment in time, together with all the wounded and indeed Jews the world over will all be returned home to a life of bliss and blessing forever more.