For This Peace, We Shall Forego

A moment of anguished soul-searching as the "peace talks" commence.

Chloé Valdary

OpEds Chloe Valdary
Chloe Valdary
Chloe Valdary

For this cleverly veiled, insidiously creeping defeat which the world deems “peace”, we shall forego.

We shall forego our good sense and we shall forego the advice of our sages. We shall forego and deliberately forget. We shall not heed the words of our fathers before us; we shall surely treat Zionism as though it were merely a fantasy to be indulged when undemanding and betrayed when expedient.

Though our enemies be despots and tyrants, we shall delude ourselves into thinking that they, with their blood soaked hands can be washed with the water of flowery nonsense uttered by ignorant statesmen.

We shall ignore the perpetual torment of our wounded and the blood of our dead which cries out from the floors of shops and busses and uprooted graves in Gaza, too Jewish to rest in peace.

We shall be fleeting fickle neglecters of a noble dream we once had. We shall bow to the unscrupulous octogenarians who bask in self-righteousness and claim our history is quasi-authentic. We shall placate the darling offspring of the Nazi movement and we shall offer oblations on the altars of world peace. To a  golden calf whose priests are the Ashtons and the Kerrys, sacrificing Jewish blood for a world who thinks that our very existence is the cause of all turmoil and the antithesis of all peace.

If we are truly convinced that this posturing will work, then obsequious is our nature; delusion, our creed. Brittle be our bones, and transitory are our memories.

Or shall we yet be bold? Will we not be truculent? Will we not defy their haughty looks and their furrowed brows. Dare we demand of a world complicit in both apathy and evil, the respect, the honor, the distinction we deserve, and of right, ought to have?  With open hands and steady hearts, standing upright, eyes beholding our beautiful, glorious land, praising the G-d of our forefathers, willing the dream, lighting the nations!

Shall we not light the nations?  Shall we not dust off our tired bodies which have had to endure so much terror, to see so much death, to experience so much hatred, and proclaim, enough is enough?

...this is not a shower, and no, this is not soap, and no, work will not make you free.
This plea is for the beautiful family in Ashdod whose roof is littered with specks of rockets and yet the mother speaks of fashion shows and the father of his motorcycle. This cry is for the children who on the last day of school flock to the Mediterranean for a cool swim. This is for the soldier who is cursed at, spit upon, and derided.  This is for the American who being enamored with the land and the legacy of his people, makes aliyah. This is for the British immigrant, now sergeant, a proud father to his soldiers.  This is for the Arab journalist who is not afraid to speak truth to power.

This plea is for the lovers of wisdom and righteousness. Shall we not greet them and hold them in high esteem?

Or shall we instead forego the whisper which makes the back of the hairs on our necks stand, which softly utters that no, this is not a shower, and no, this is not soap, and no, work will not make you free.

Only Zion will make you free.