What motivated a Palestinian Arab to go on a killing spree? Seven Israelis dead, more injured, at a synagogue in the Neve Yaacov neighborhood of Jerusalem.
The murderer was 21 years old. By that time he’d had his fill of “school books” supplied by Israel’s “peace partner” the Palestinian Authority, books that teach hatred against Jews, and for sermons that preach hatred, he needed only to visit his local mosque to reinforce his certainty that killing Jews was imperative and a ticket to paradise.
Or perhaps he heard the incitement from PA “chairman” Mahmoud Abbas that the Jews were coming for the Al-Aksa mosque, so it was time for him to act.
He didn’t get away. He was eliminated by Israeli police. Good thing, too. Now his family will get rich from the PA’s Pay to Slay program.
You newcomers, you didn’t know? Oh yes. It’s in the books. It’s policy. It’s called the Martyrs Fund, and many Palestinian Arab families have enjoyed its bounties.
Together with another attack that has now emerged, this time a Jewish father and son wounded by a 13 year old Arab, the EU is complicit, the UN is complicit, the World Court is complicit, and Joe Biden doesn’t get off the hook. He may be the most complicit of all through the millions he keeps sending to the PA, even knowing what he knows, and knowing what everybody knows.
Business is business and business is good.
Reading over these previous paragraphs, I find myself surprised by how calmly they read…compared to how I really feel.
You don’t want to know what I’m thinking. Nor do you want to know my pain, and anger, over what has befallen my Jewish brothers and sisters in Israel.
The hurt is unbearable, and I ask, when will this end?
I confess…yes, I confess, that without knowing it, or perhaps I did know it, that I planned the opening lines herein while it was still Shabbat. I could not help myself.
Let those holier than me be my judge. So I have sinned…although we are taught that it is permissible, even compulsory, to break the Sabbath in an emergency.
This was an emergency.
Let me then go on sinning by revealing unholy thoughts here and there when on this occasion, and others before it, Arab terrorists do what they do.
I sin…or do I?...when I suggest that the killer’s entire family ought to be expelled, along with his entire town.
Gather them up. Ship them out, and quickly, before the High Court gets a chance to review the case and turn everything upside down.
I’m coming on too strong? I’ll be hearing from more “sensible” voices? Too bad. I am a sinner.
In that vein, as a sinner, I’m thinking that every Arab in Israel can’t be trusted, and should be officially treated as such. When war comes, we know how the friendly Arabs in the mixed towns take off their masks and turn on their Jewish neighbors, as if always waiting to erupt, and erupt they do.
In the IDF, my captain had a shop next to a Palestinian Arab. I asked him if he gets along. “Fine,” said my captain. “Do you trust him?” That, he said, “is another story.”
Too harsh? But I am a sinner, and to call them Arab Israelis, or Israeli Arabs, is a contradiction in terms, and now, in Gaza, see how they laugh, give out candy, and shoot up fireworks to celebrate the massacre of Jewish civilians…the two-state solution in action… and since it’s obvious that they can’t live in peace with Jews, let them go.
Let them come to Biden’s America where the border is always open. Fly them to Mexico, and walk right in. No papers necessary.
They certainly will be welcomed in Ilhan Omar’s Minnesota, and in Rashida Tlaib’s Michigan districts.
A day before the murders in Israel, Tlaib was seen on the steps of the Capitol, here in America, smiling and waving the “Palestinian flag.”
You don’t want to know what I really think about that, either.
New York-based bestselling American novelist Jack Engelhard writes regularly for Arutz Sheva.
He wrote the worldwide book-to-movie bestseller “Indecent Proposal,” the authoritative newsroom epic, “The Bathsheba Deadline,” followed by his coming-of-age classics, “The Girls of Cincinnati,” and, the Holocaust-to-Montreal memoir, “Escape from Mount Moriah.” For that and his 1960s epic “The Days of the Bitter End,” contemporaries have hailed him “The last Hemingway, a writer without peer, and the conscience of us all.” Email Jack here.