We spent this past Shabbat at Kibbutz Saad visiting with our good friends Ellen and Aaron. Ellen and I had been 
The return of Gaza to Arab rule has brought the terror to their doors once again.
roommates at the Institute for Youth Leaders in Jerusalem some fifty years ago and our friendship has lasted through the years.
Both of us had come to live in Israel: she to marry her handsome kibbutznik; and me to keep my promise to the machon, the Institute, that had imbued me with the Zionist dream.
Kibbutz Saad is a few kilometers east of the Gaza Strip. In the 1950s the kibbutz had often been infiltrated by the fedayeen, precursors to today’s Hamas terrorists. The 1967 war and Israel’s control of Gaza had stopped the marauders from entering the kibbutz. The return of Gaza to Arab rule has brought the terror to their doors once again, this time in the form of Kassam rockets exploding in their fields and close to their homes. They live with the terror of violent death every day.
“Look at this,” Ellen grimaced, handing me a sheaf of paper. “We received this from our kibbutz council. It has instructions as to which shelters we are required to run to in case of an attack, and we are expected to fill out a form letting the kibbutz know where we would like to go if we have to be evacuated. We are asked to go to family, or another kibbutz if family is unavailable.”
“Are you really expecting to be evacuated?”
“If a war breaks out and we are heavily rocketed.... I wish there would be a war. I can’t stand living here like sitting ducks. We get hit repeatedly and instead of a response by our side, we are told we might have to evacuate.”
This conversation was held as we stood on her porch looking at the bright lights of Gaza City close by.
We heard a resounding boom. I was startled.
“That’s nothing,” Ellen laughed. “That was far away. When it hits here, it’s very loud. And frightening.”
Throughout Shabbat we heard firing in the distance. Had anyone been hurt? Was there damage? We would have to wait for media reports.
I wish there would be a war. I can’t stand living here like sitting ducks.
I looked at my friends. Aaron is partially disabled. He could not reach the shelter in fifteen seconds. There are many elderly kibbutz members who share his predicament; electric carts dot every parking area.
We visited my ‘adoptive’ kibbutz mother from so many years ago.
“Where can I go?” she said. “My children have small apartments.” She and her late husband were Holocaust survivors. Then, she had been ‘evacuated’, but now she expects more from her Israeli government. “I can’t face an evacuation,” she says plaintively. “It brings back too many memories of my childhood.”
Today, the Israeli government voted not to finance extra protective roofs for Jewish homes in rocket range of Gaza. And as Kassams continue to fall, Defense Minister Ehud Barak capitulated to pressure from Middle East envoy Tony Blair and renewed fuel deliveries to Gaza.
I recall reading that supplying one’s enemy in time of war is considered treason.
Our leaders forget nothing. And learn nothing.