Portland’s Souther reacts to March terrorist attack
By Callie Souther
The following is excerpted from a blog written by Callie Souther, a rabbinic student at Hebrew Union College in Jerusalem, on March 6, the evening a terrorist shot and killed eight students at the Mercaz Harav yeshiva in Jerusalem. Souther is the daughter of Portlander Adrienne Souther and stepdaughter of Stan Geffen.
Earlier tonight there was what is being classified as a terrorist attack on an Orthodox Yeshiva in Jerusalem. As Jerusalem is a small city, I can’t say that the shooting was nowhere near my place, but it was far enough away for me to not feel immediately threatened.
Just before I received the e-mail from a classmate alerting us to the situation, I had heard a slew of sirens outside. I just assumed that Condie (Condelezza Rice) was leaving the King David Hotel (she’s here, presumably for a round of “talks”) and didn’t give the disturbance outside a second thought. After reading the article about the shooting and the response it garnered from nearly 50 ambulances in the area, I understand that the noise outside my window was no mere motorcade.
Reading the front page of the online version of Ha’aretz Magazine, a left-leaning Israeli newspaper and one of my favorite sources of news in Israel, proves to be a particularly saddening exercise this evening:
“Eight killed in terrorist attack at J’lem Yeshiva,”
“Officials: Terrorist was East Jerusalem resident.”
“Abbas slams Jerusalem attack; Israel: Peace talks will go on.”
“J’lem yeshiva student: I shot the terrorist twice in the head.”
I can’t help but be reminded of last summer’s Jewish Federation shooting in Seattle, Wash. And let’s be honest, the two events are far from unrelated. To refresh your memory, in short, last summer a Muslim man forced his way into the Jewish Federation building in downtown Seattle, said something along the lines of “I’m a Muslim man and I’m mad at Israel” and then opened fire, injuring three (I think) and killing one. The difference, you might say, is that incident was in Seattle far from the boiling cauldron that is Israel.
I’ve spent the past nine months assuring friends, family and those secret anti-Israel (and I’ll say it, anti-Semites) among the former, that Israel is a safe place. It’s not the war-torn area that you might see on CNN—in fact, turn off your TV. Turn it off right now. The international news media is working backwards in their reporting of the situation in this part of the world; they have their conclusion, now they are just setting the stage to prove it.
But I digress... I’ve spent the last nine months, perhaps the last two years, educating and reassuring people about the general safety of Jerusalem.
“Most of the trouble is down South,” I said two years ago during the disengagement. “Most of the trouble is up North, now” I said last summer during the Lebanon war. And once again this year “Most of the trouble is down South—Jerusalem is fine. Jerusalem is safe.”
Well, as one of my friend’s status reads on her Internet instant messenger “safe is a relative term.” A lesson we, sitting high up in Jerusalem, learned first hand—again—this evening.
I’m not quite sure what message I’m trying to convey here, dear reader, other than the deep sadness that I feel tonight. I love this country. I particularly love this city. This maddening city of extremes.
Being a woman studying to be a rabbi in this city can be a very alienating and polarizing experience.
I would be lying if I said that my attitude towards the Orthodox and Haredi communities here has been made softer in my time here. In fact, I’d say the exact opposite has occurred. I’ve come to feel that the things that divide us as Jews are greater than the things that unite us. I was happy in that prejudice—or at least comfortable in it.
Then, someone went ahead and attacked these people—my people—in my city—in my country—in my home. Whether or not the victims of this attack choose to include me as a member of Am Yisrael—I choose to understand that an attack against them is, in essence, an attack against all of us.
Since the shooting, I’ve been listening to Israeli Army radio station, Galgalatz. Galgalatz usually has an eclectic mix of music—but this evening I experienced what I’d only read about: the sadness of a country broadcast over the radio.
This is not a country full of war-mongers, or even hate-mongers. This is a country made of two peoples who want to live. People who are tired of seeing their children die. What I find interesting is that, for the past year or more, the communities surrounding the Gaza Strip, particularly the town of Sderot, have been dealing with attacks from kassamim and have been living in constant fear, but that’s Sderot. Or Ashkelon. Or any-far-from-here place.
Jerusalem though... Jerusalem where buses and cafes were being blown up every-other-day during the early years of this decade. A terrorist attack in Jerusalem just brings up too many memories. I’m not saying that eight deaths in Jerusalem are more worrisome or saddening than 30 in Sderot, or in Gaza for that matter. I am saying that the quiet we’ve enjoyed here for the past nine months has been broken—and Jerusalem, this holy city, has once again become a target—and this … makes me lose a little bit of hope for this region and its pursuit of peace. Most of all—it just makes me sad.
Below is a Prayer for the Peace of Israel, that has been running through my head the past few hours. Thank you for listening to my rant. Be angry. Be sad. Be upset. Just don’t be indifferent and don’t be fooled by the international news media: the situation here is far from black and white.
“Our Divine Guardian, Rock and Redeemer of Israel, bless the State of Israel, beginning of the flowering of our redemption. Shield it beneath the wings of Your steadfast love and spread over it the shelter of Your peace. May a spark of Your spirit inspire the actions of its President, Prime Minister, officials, judges and advisors. Enable them to understand the rightness of Your judgments. Strengthen the hands of those who build and protect Your Holy Land. Plant within us love, friendship and mutual acceptance; uproot hatred, hostility and jealousy from among us.
Be near to all the people of Israel throughout the lands in which we dwell. Unite our hearts to love and revere Your name. Shine forth in your glorious majesty over all inhabitants of Your world and speedily fulfill the vision of Your prophet: “Nation will not lift up sword against nation, nor will they learn war anymore.”