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      Blessings from Hebron
      by David Wilder
      Personal Reflections on Hebron, Eretz Yisrael, Friends, Family and anything else that comes to mind.
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      David Wilder was born in New Jersey in the USA in 1954, and graduated from Case Western Reserve University with a BA in History and teacher certification in 1976. He spent 1974-75 in Jerusalem at the Hebrew University and returned to Israel upon graduation.

      For over eighteen years David Wilder has worked with the Jewish Community of Hebron. He is the English spokesman for the community, granting newspaper, television and radio interviews internationally. He initiated the Hebron internet project, including email lists of over 15,000 subscribers who receive regular news and commentaries from Hebron in English and Hebrew. David is responsible and continues to update the Hebron web sites, portraying various facets of Hebron, utilizing text, audio, video and pictures. He conducts tours of Hebron's Jewish Community and occasionally travels abroad, speaking at Hebron functions.

      David Wilder is married to Ora, a 'Sabra,' for 33 years. They lived in Kiryat Arba for 17 years and have resided at Beit Hadassah in Hebron for the past 14 years. They have seven children and many grandchildren.

      Links to sites David recommends:
      www.davidwilder.net
      www.hebron.com (English)
      www.hebron.org.il (Hebrew)
      www.machpela.com
      www.ohrshlomo.org (Hebrew)
      www.ohrshalom.net (Hebrew)
      www.womeningreen.org
      www.zoa.org
      (others to be added)


      Iyar 4, 5771, 5/8/2011

      Surprise in Hebron-Overcoming my fears by Miriam Karp


      Printed from Chabad.org
      http://goo.gl/EwwU3

      I should go.

      I didn’t want to go.

      In all honesty, I was embarrassed to admit it, I was afraid to go.

      This was an antiquated, angrily disputed place; quite small, really. Though you’d never guess it by the media attention it drew. I pushed it to the back of my mind, but it lingered there, unresolved.

      In all honesty, I was embarrassed to admit it, I was afraid to goIt didn’t really speak to me. I saw its ancient sites when I looked through picture books about Israel, I saw it in my own daughter’s neatly arranged photo album, but it lay flat, mute. It didn’t jump off the page, beckoning, imploring me to wander through its nooks and crannies, kiss its stones and soak up its energy, like Safed or Jerusalem. I felt I had been in these two holy cities way before I ever set foot in our homeland; their charm, mystery, smells and sounds almost tangible in my imagination.

      The Me’arat HaMachpelah was different. It looked too large, square, solid and imposing. True, it was the burial place of our forefathers and mothers (Adam and Eve, Abraham and Sarah, Isaac and Rebecca, and Jacob and Leah), but even that didn’t make my soul tingle. I knew intellectually that Hebron is an important part of our heritage, one of the four holiest cities, but felt little magnetism, no pull or attraction. Well, I did actually feel one visceral connection; something resonated when I heard the word Machpelah. Grandma Ida was buried in a cemetery in Detroit that bore this Biblical name—near the Michigan State Fairgrounds, in a rundown neighborhood.

      Two of my daughters spent lots of time in Hebron during their seminary years; one even declared it was her favorite place in Israel. Hardened Israelis looked at her in bemusement. What? That place of discord and violence? She dreamed of spending a year learning and living in that embattled compound.

      Malky is a boisterous adventurer, while I pine after peace and tranquility. I imagined she loved the challenge, the gritty courage of the Jews who live there, and the feisty spunk of their kids, long sideburns flying in the wind, scruffy sandals scooting up the narrow alleyways.

      But Malky never told Avi about her forays into the Hebron Hills, going down from Jerusalem on the heavy green armor-plated Egged bus. At least not until she was safely tucked back in her dorm. Big protective brother Avi is five years older. He knows the other side of life in Hebron’s twisting alleys. As a soldier in the IDF from 2004–6, he spent a good chunk of time there, a twenty-year-old kid with a gun. Hours of tedious guard duty; grueling monotony while you hover, poised to catch a sign of trouble. Arrests of terrorists. A fellow soldier was picked off by a sniper before my son’s young Midwestern eyes. Is this a place for my nice Jewish boychick? Avi was not happy with his little sister’s passion. Too many bad memories and close calls.

      What should a mommy say? That same idealistic passion that drove Avi to defend his people and overcome the many difficulties in moving to Israel and piecing together a new life, led Malky to boldly explore. I lay in bed praying, worrying too. How could I dampen their flames, the youthful sparkle in their eyes? Real life has a way of tempering their dreams soon enough. We tried to raise them to be full of faith and love for their people. They took the ball and are running, they’re flying. How can I clip their wings?

      Abraham purchased the Machpelah Cave to bury his beloved Sarah, the first parcel of the land of Israel legally purchased by a Jew, documented bill of sale and all. It seems Abraham foresaw our times, when the city is embroiled in contentious dispute.

      On my first trip to Israel in 2003, the Intifada was in full swing. I tentatively but resolutely ventured partway into Judea, to visit a dear friend in Tekoa. We visited a natural spring in Bat Ayin, and drove around, viewing the olive groves and vineyards of beautiful Gush Etzion. It felt a bit surreal to be driving down the same Highway 60 that occupied too many news reports with grisly attacks, but this was my friend and this was her home. Many Americans couldn’t understand visiting the “war zone” of Israel at all. Hey, I figured, attacks were happening everywhere, and we weren’t about to give up the whole country. Was going into Judea that different?

      Many Americans couldn’t understand visiting the “war zone” of Israel at allI saw daily life go on. My friend’s children, transplanted from Boston, were taking root, hardy and healthy. There were the sun-baked tiles of the suburban-looking stucco homes, the caravans clinging tenaciously to the sides of the stony hills. The achingly and elegantly simple synagogue in Bat Ayin, the outpouring of creative Judaic art of the Gush Etzion gallery, the winery in Tekoa with pungent bottles of fine vintage, handcrafted the old French way, put a human face on the “West Bank settlers,” too often depicted by the media as rabid intransigent radicals.

      Going all the way to Hebron still felt more than a tad outside my comfort zone, however. I sent a donation to Jewish educational efforts there from time to time. I deeply admired those valiant pioneers who held down the fort, maintaining a Jewish presence. But I just didn’t relate, not spiritually, not personally. It was for tougher, cowboy types, not softie scaredy-cats like me, I mused. I couldn’t readily imagine that a nourishing spiritual light shone there and sustained them.

      Fast forward to August, 2010.

      We packed up and excitedly prepared to bring the gang to Israel for Avi and Ayala’s wedding. We roughly sketched out an itinerary. Where did we want to go? Hebron came up several times. My heart fluttered. We’ll see how things go, I demurred. Again, the pang of conscience. I should go. I should bring my family. It’s one of the holiest places. And visiting gives strength and support to those who live there. I tried to brush off my fears.

      Thursday was another scorcher. The kids were up early, scrambling around with my husband. Hats. Water. Sunglasses. Snacks. “Hey, Ma! We’re taking the bus into Jerusalem and catching the afternoon bus to Hebron. Are you coming?”

      “I guess,” I mumbled, letting myself follow rather than think. “Where you go, I will go . . . . . .”

      We met up with Avi at the Central Bus Station. His mixed feelings seemed to match mine. He came along, to somehow protect us if we were dumb enough to go, and to see what would unfold. He had visited Hebron with my husband some six months before, which seemed to begin a healing and more benign feeling about the place.

      We looked around anxiously for nineteen-year-old Yeshaya as the bus pulled into its port and the people in line started boarding. He had wandered off for a slice of pizza. Where is that kid!?!?! Over there—hurry up! All aboard, we headed off, the kids duly subdued and impressed by the bulletproof smoked glass.

      It was an uneventful trip snaking through the Judean hills. I murmured Psalms and took in the Biblical landscape. Isn’t that David the shepherd tending his flock, under that tree? We arrived. Through a checkpoint, around a curve. Concrete blocks, barbed wire, joyful music greeted us as we disembarked.

      I braced myself for a feeling of fear, anger, determination. I was going to make a stand for Jewish pride and resolve, and march resolutely into the Machpelah Cave.

      But I didn’t expect . . . this.

      It revived and surprised me.

      Delighted me.

      The air, the energy was festive. People strolled on the grounds, but there wasn’t a swarming crowd to make that carnival feeling. Something intangible but very real in the place itself. A delicate joy. The music wasn’t inane or incongruous, it was totally appropriate.

      I braced myself for a feeling of fear, anger, determinationThe Cave looked different in real life. Not forbidding. Perched on the grassy hill, it didn’t beckon shyly, but exclaimed joyfully. It was Momma, waiting to reunite with her kinderlach, her returning children, with open arms and hand-baked goodies warm from the oven. I couldn’t wait to ascend the steps and enter her welcoming embrace. The air sparkled, sang. I felt light and young.

      We walked up together, admiring different views, and entered through security, bantering with the soldiers and guards.

      Inside, we wandered from one resting place to another, looking, reading, thinking, praying, and soaking it in—the special atmosphere. Quiet. Joyful. Intimate. Relaxed and intense in a very natural way. Sweet, comfortable, homey.

      We ended up in the central area, used as a synagogue, where a group gathered for the afternoon prayers. Prayer is usually an effort for me, but it just flowed. Springs of prayer welled up naturally. I wanted to bring a cot and sleep in there, just soak up the sparkling, warm, comforting, inspiring energy that rooted me deep and reached to the heavens, like a pillar.

      I saw Avi in a corner, pouring out his heart in a moment of deep introspection, gathering strength and heavenly help for his upcoming marriage and new life. He seemed to be tuning into the riches this unique place so generously offered.

      Coming out, later, back into the sunlight, back into time, I thought of the words Jacob uttered after his dream of the ladder ascending: “How awesome is this place.”

      Several days later, I shared my surprise with our cousin Susan, a former American now living in Jerusalem. “You won’t believe it, it was just so special. Even more inspiring than the Western Wall, in a way.” I expected this moderate and levelheaded woman to be dismayed at both our foray and this impression. She paused, and nodded. “Well, you know, Dan says the same thing. I guess I’ll have to go there too.”

      I don’t claim to have a simple answer to the issues surrounding this controversial place. But I learned something that August afternoon. Not book learning—but learning into my gut, heart, bones: Hebron is a living, breathing wellspring of spiritual treasure. A timeless, priceless part of us.




      ---------------------------------------------------------
      By Miriam Karp   More articles...  |   
      Miriam Karp is a writer, painter and teacher. Her Jewish Journey interviews, essays and Jewish social action articles have appeared in many periodicals. Her paintings explore the inner light and daily intimate moments of Jewish living. She lives in Cincinnati with her husband and family.

      The content on this page is copyrighted by the author, publisher and/or Chabad.org, and is produced by Chabad.org. If you enjoyed this article, we encourage you to distribute it further, provided that you comply with the copyright policy.
       

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      Nissan 24, 5771, 4/28/2011

      G-d’s mysterious ways



      Rather, it is, as happens time and time again during the almost 4,000 year old history of our people, Divine intervention, G-d’s way of saving us from ourselves.
      Ever since yesterday’s announcement concerning the ‘new’ bond between Hamas and Fatah, Israeli analysts having been breaking their backs attempting to explain the ‘new’ situation Israel finds itself in. Bibi is having conniption fits. Bibi to Abu-Mazen: Choose peace with Israel, or Hamas. So read the headlines. FM Lieberman isn’t far behind: Hamas will conquer Judea and Samaria. Others, on left side of the political spectrum continue lambasting Netanyahu’s policies.

      Personally, I believe the agreement is a reason to break out the wine, set up a band, and celebrate. Why? Despite what would seem to be an almost constant disagreement with Shimon Peres, this time he has hit the nail on the head. Latest headlines quote him: “The agreement will prevent creation of a palestinian state.”

      Yeah!!! Right on!!!

      Bibi has good reason to be upset. His Bar Ilan 2 speech, to be recited before a full house of Senators and Congressmen in Washington in a few weeks was just about finished. Concession after concession, abandonment of more land to our enemies, relinquishment of additional security precautions, a ‘palestinian state’ in temporary borders, perhaps even with a taste of Jerusalem for desert. It was all set. And now – what bombshell can he initiate? Not a one. At least, certainly not in the direction he planned.

      First of all, it is mandatory to comprehend the starting point. The conflict between Hamas and Fatah has and did not have anything to do with ideology. Both agree that the state of Israel is an insufferable thorn in the collective throats of the Arabs that must be plucked out of existence at the first opportunity. Abu Mazen certainly hasn’t changed his life’s philosophy, which he expressed while planning the 1974 Ma’alot massacre and funding the 1972 Olympic terror killings in Germany.  His present peace doctrine can be best summed up with the names Dalal Mughrabi and Wafa Idris, terrorists who killed Israelis and have been recently honored by the PA.

      The major conflicts between Abu Mazen and his friends in Gaza were twofold: Ego – who would rule; and semantics – what is permissible to say? Abu Mazen was willing to play the game initiated by his predecessor Yassir, who was taught the rights and wrongs of diplomacy by Ezer Weitzman and our illustrious president, Peres. Hamas preferred to continue shooting rockets at Israel, making no bones about its intentions to delete Israel from the map.

      However, their ties are much stronger and deeper than their disagreements. After all, they do have a common goal. A palestinian state in Gaza, Judea and Samaria is only a stepping stone to their main aim of destroying Israel.

      What brings them back together? We can look for and perhaps find multiple reasons. But the TRUE inspiration has nothing to do with what they want. Rather, it is, as happens time and time again during the almost 4,000 year old history of our people, Divine intervention, G-d’s way of saving us from ourselves.

      Bibi already announced his acceptance of a palestinian state. But what can he do now? Every rocket now shot into Israel, at Sderot, Ashkelon or Tel Aviv has not one signature on it, rather two: Ismail Haniyeh and Abu Mazen. Gilad Shalit is now a captive of Hamas-Fatah. Every attempted terror attack initiated from Gaza is rubber-stamped: Fatah-Hamas.

      The threat of Hamastan expanding into Judea and Samaria has increased a hundred-fold. The possibility of missile attacks from Yosh into Tel Aviv or Petach Tikvah is no longer an ‘extremist’s imagination,’ as is the risk of attempts to shoot down planes flying into and out of Ben Gurion airport.  These scenarios are being played out at this very moment on the plates of Israeli intelligence analysts, who have been participating in this banquet at least from the signing of the 1994 Oslo accords. Even Shimon, the chief architect of this cataclysm realizes that the end of his imagined paradise is quickly coming to an end.  

      Just as G-d hardened Pharaoh’s heart, so too, today, He is throwing dust into the eyes of our enemies, blinding them, dulling their senses, and leading them down a dead-end road, leading, not to Israel’s destruction, rather to their own obliteration.

      This does not mean, under any circumstances, that we will have an easy time of it. Far from it. Dead end roads aren’t necessarily short, and they can be quite bumpy. But the chances of another Arab state on our eastern border, created with Israel’s blessings, have hit the lowest level they’ve been at in years. It won’t be easy, but we will prevent creation of a palestinian state.

      G-d is watching over us. G-d is protecting us, even from ourselves. Thank G-d!

       

       







      Nissan 20, 5771, 4/24/2011

      Take back Kever Yosef, TODAY!



      It is our collective responsibility to ensure that Joseph’s tomb return's to Israel
      Text messages, received at seven in the morning, aren’t a good way to start the day. Today’s was no different. A terror shooting at Kever Yosef, Joseph’s tomb, in Shechem, left one Jew dead and others injured.

      A little while later, arriving at Ma’arat HaMachpela for morning prayers, I asked a friend if he knew who’d been killed. When he answered Ben Yosef Livnat I froze. Benyo, as he was known, had been my neighbor. He had studied at Kollel Ohr Shlomo in Tel Rumeida for a few years. I saw him there every morning, studying “Hassidut,” usually “Likutai Me’oran,’ the teachings for Rebbi Nachman of Breslav, with a ‘chevruta’ a study partner, before the nine o’clock start of the regular day’s program. During his last year in the Torah program, he moved, with his wife and family, to Beit Hadassah. They lived in an apartment under ours for about a year, before moving to a Breslav neighborhood in Jerusalem.

      Benyo dead!? Shot and killed!? At Kever Yosef!? Now, a few hours later, I still cannot fathom Benyo – Ben Yosef Livat, no long among the living.

      Benyo’s father, Noam, was severely wounded while serving in the IDF. Belonging to the Beitar movement, he was involved in Gush Etzion and later became religious. He helped initiate the Elon Moreh and Kedumim communities in Samaria, and later studied at the Od Yosef Chai yeshiva at Joseph’s tomb in Shechem.  Benyo – Ben Yosef, was one of six children in the family and his name reflects the family’s bond with Joseph and Joseph’s tomb, where ironically, he was murdered.

      Benyo is not the first Jew to lose his life as a result of total dedication to Joseph’s tomb and the Shomron – Samaria region. This holy site, was, according to the cursed Oslo Accords, supposed to remain under Israeli control, despite the fact that the city Shechem, was abandoned to Arafat and the Arabs. However, numerous violent attacks at the site led to the murder of Israeli Border policeman, Cpl. Madhat Yusuf, there in October, 2000. Yusuf, injured by Arab gunfire, bled to death at the tomb when Israeli forces were forbidden to entire the site and save him.

      A week later, Hillel Lieberman, was murdered by Arabs while trying to access the tomb following Israel’s decision to abandon the area to the Arabs. A week and a half later Rabbi Binyamin Herling, also from Elon Moreh, was killed during a hike in an area just outside Shechem. He too bled to death after being wounded, when Israeli forces were forbidden to take actions necessary to end Arab shooting in the area.

      Arabs destroyed the tomb, burning it to the ground. However Jews refused to abandon Joseph and leave this holy place Judenrein. For years Jewish worshippers have secretly visited the tomb, during the night and early morning, praying and reciting Psalms. Eventually the IDF began to offer ‘secure visits’ to the site. But the demand to permanently return to Joseph’s tomb continued, with many groups, including many Breslav Hassidim, frequenting the holy site. So it was that Ben Yosef Livnat and some of his friends arrived there early this morning for early morning Passover prayers. Arabs in the area, including armed terrorists in uniform, known as ‘palestinian police’ were used to seeing Jews arrive, pray, and then leave. However, this morning these terrorists opened fire on a few cars of Breslaver’s at the tomb, killing Benyo and wounding a few others, one of whom is in critical condition. Benyo, only twenty five years old, leaves a widow and four orphans, the oldest of whom is not yet five.

      There are many conclusions to be reached following this horrid terrorist murder, on the eve of the last day of Passover. Again, and how many times must it be reiterated, Israel cannot and must not initiate so-called ‘security arrangements’ with the PA. Armed Arabs know only one use for their weapons, and that is, as has proven hundreds of times, is to murder Jews. Hundreds and thousands of Jews have been killed and injured by weapons provided to the Arabs by Israel and distributed to ‘palestinian police,’ that is, terrorists in uniform. How many more lives must be snuffed out until Israel’s leadership understands that our neighbors will continue to kill Jews, given the opportunity to do so. Why should we help them to kill our own people!?

      But, the first, and most obvious step to be implemented is the return of Kever Yosef, Joseph’s tomb, to full Israeli control. Benyo’s murder will not stop Jews from praying at this site; to the contrary, I expect it will accelerate and increase Jewish presence at the site. But Israel must, must, must, make it clear to our neighbors that there is a price for killing of Jews. Joseph’s tomb is one of the holiest places in Israel, similar to Rachel’s Tomb in Bethlehem and Ma’arat HaMachpela, the tomb of the Patriarchs and Matriarchs in Hebron. Why should such a sacred place remain in the hands of our enemy, who continues to desecrate it and kill Jews there!? It is our collective responsibility to ensure that Joseph’s tomb return's to Israel, and that responsibility obligates Israeli leadership, the Prime Minister, the Defense Minister, and the entire Israeli cabinet (including Benyo’s aunt, Minister Limor Livat), to meet today, and officially decide to return a permanent Israeli security presence to Kever Yosef, thereby allowing full, free, secure access to all Jews who so desire to worship there, day and night, three hundred and sixty five days a year. This is the only way to sanctify the memory of all those killed at this site and prevent further Jewish bloodshed at this most significant location in Israel.

      Benyo was a wonderful person, a beautiful Jew and his murder will leave a huge gap in the lives of all who knew him. May his memory be blessed and may G-d comfort his widow, orphans, parents, brothers and sisters and all who knew and loved him.







      Nissan 13, 5771, 4/17/2011

      Burning the Hametz



      we will not be massacred – we will burn the Hametz in our midst, we will seek out and burn the evil in our midst
      Passover has arrived. This is one of those times during the year when I really feel ok with myself. Working as a spokesperson, with all types of media and journalists doesn’t always leave me with a good, warm sensation. However, Passover, in Hebrew, Pesach, is known for the hidden words “Pe” “Sach” – “Pe,” meaning mouth, and  “Sach”, meaning speaks. In other words, sometimes it’s a mitzvah, a positive commandment, to talk.

      Now is one of those times.

      On the evening prior to the start of Pesach, observant Jews search their homes, ensuring that all “Hametz,” that is leavening, has been removed from the premises. Leavened bread, that is regular bread, baked using yeast, is forbidden during the seven day festival. Only Matza, that is unleavened bread, baked only with water and flour, is permitted. And any food product considered to be ‘hametz,’ not kosher for Pesach, must be removed from a person’s home. The final search is conducted the night before the “Seder,” which marks the beginning of the holiday.

      The next morning, only hours before the start of Pesach, any remaining Hametz is burned, until the only residue is ash.

      According to many Jewish scholars, Hametz represents much more than simple leavening.  Leavened bread rises as it bakes; this is compared to the trait of pride. Too much pride can lead to haughtiness. Matza, unleavened bread, represents an opposite characteristic, that of humility. Therefore, on the anniversary of the birth of the Jewish people, as a people, being redeemed from the oppression in Egypt, so too we attempt to reduce our arrogance and self-importance and behave more humbly. For this reason, on the morning prior to commencement of Passover, we burn our Hametz, thereby symbolically obliterating our self-conceit.

      But this modesty does not determine our personality, individually or nationally, as that of meekness. Seven days after fleeing Egypt we had no choice but to jump into the sea, our fate being totally in the hands of G-d. But shortly afterward, the fledgling Jewish people were attacked by Amalakites, the most evil of all peoples, who rejected the concept of a G-dly people, and attempted to annihilate us almost before we were able to live as a people. We were then transformed into warriors, who were victorious only when Moses held his hands a high, pointing to the heavens, reminding the fighters to put their overall faith, not in their own hands, but in the Divine hands of the Creator. But warriors they were, fighting for survival against a deadly enemy. A soldier cannot be meek. They are two opposite attributes. But this is the wonder of the Jewish people, even upon their creation: on the one hand, seeming submissiveness, yet on the other hand, fierce combatants on the battlefield.

      Perhaps part of our troubles at present is confusion as to our role, and our national personality. Are we to be fighters or are we to be timid? The answer is, of course, both of the above, depending on the given situation. There are times when it is necessary to set our pride ablaze. Yet there are other times when we are called on to battle without fear and without any restraint.  For example, Samuel was a prophet, a seer, a man of G-d, holy from birth. Yet it is written that he cut the Amalakite King Agog to pieces with a sword.

      Hametz too has different characteristics at different times. For one week during the year we are forbidden to eat it, or take any pleasure from it. The other fifty one weeks of the year it is not only permissible, it is also a necessary and normal part of our lives. Which then, is the real quality of Hametz? Quantitatively, all year minus one week. But in term of quality, in terms of setting the tone of our lives, determining how we should live, our life’s ideal, the one week of Pesach takes precedence. So it is personally, as so it is nationally, as a people.

      The Torah commands us, not only to burn Hametz prior to Pesach. It also instructs to literally, ‘burn the evil from your midst.. In Hebrew, “u’biarta hara mikirbecha.” This phrase is used numerous times in the Bible, telling us that, at times, normal punishment is not enough. Sometimes the evil must be totally destroyed – the evil must be set afire and burned, until nothing of it remains.

      Israeli security forces set forth, a month ago, searching for Hametz. Early this afternoon the media reported what some already knew for some time. The creatures who massacred the Fogel family, two teenage cousins, had been apprehended. The details are difficult to fathom. First two children were butchered and then the parents. And then, after they left the house, only to return to search for weapons, did they discover four month old Hadas, crying in her bed. Then, she too was slaughtered. The butchers showed no remorse, except for the fact that they hadn’t noticed two other children in the house. Had they seen them, they too would have been brutally murdered.

      The butchers from Awarta, (the village where they lived, adjacent to Itamar), must not be allowed to continue to live. They must be tried, as quickly as possible, and executed. As the verse says, evil must be burned from our midst. Those who directly helped them, before and after the massacre, they must die too. There can be no mercy for participants of a massacre. The entire village, Awarta, must be razed and burned to the ground, all its citizens expelled to Lebanon or Egypt. For they all knew, and did nothing. And that site must remain ash, just as Hametz is burned and left as ash, an eternal reminder that the Jewish people are not  meek, that we know what to do and how to do it, when necessary.

      But not far from there, next to Itamar, the State of Israel must establish a new city, called Fogel, building fifty thousand homes – ten thousand for each member of the Fogel family murdered.

      And we will know, and our neighbors will know, and the entire world will know – we will not be massacred – we will burn the Hametz in our midst, we will seek out and burn the evil in our midst and we will live in our land, for this is the goal of Passover, not to end slavery, not to walk in the desert, but to settle and live in our land, as a free people, in our land, Eretz Yisrael.







      Nissan 10, 5771, 4/14/2011

      Pesach in Hebron // The New Hebron Fund Newsletter