Some historians and theologians believe that hatred of Jews began on the day the Jewish people discovered belief in a single God. The God of the Jews demanded exclusivity and thus aroused jealousy among those who prayed to blocks of wood. Jealousy and otherness have been the foundations of anti-Semitism from time immemorial. It is possible that the story of Israel's establishment arouses a similar feeling around the world. In the eyes of foreigners, Israel is a provocation, one that asks them to recognize the exclusivity of Jewish national revival. Nothing like this has ever occurred before in human history. A beaten nation, plucking its few remaining sticks from the fire, has never returned to its original homeland or revived its ancient language, or emerged from the dark tunnel to build the region's strongest defense force. But this is the story of how the Jews came to regain the land of Israel. We can talk about Israel's chronic problems, and there are many. We can talk about the disappointments, and there are as many as mushrooms after the rain. The hardships of the downtrodden, the lack of social solidarity, the weakening sense of communal responsibility and the decline of Hebrew culture, from the Bible to Naomi Shemer. But this is not the real story of Zionism. The real story is that Zionism has been a resounding success that arouses such great envy among the nations of the world that Israel is under constant external threat. At age 65, the Jewish state is bustling, passionate, infuriating, sad, exhausting, courageously fighting for its life and soaring through the skies of high-tech. The land of Israel is not just land. It is the beauty lying supine in Benjamin Tammuz's "A Garden Enclosed." Every son who fell in battle has something of Moshe Shamir's brother Elik, who was "born out of the sea." Israel is a barren, rocky hill, as in Shaul Tchernichovsky's poem, and dew falling like pearls on Mt. Hermon as in the childhood dream of Haim Nahman Bialik. Israel's essence is not reflected in the depressing melodies and political whining of 2013, but rather in the solid claim of singer Naomi Shemer that without Jews in Jerusalem's Old City, "the city square is empty," even if there are people in it. Will peace come, will it come, in the words of another famous song ? The plea for peace rises up from Jewish tradition. But so many people covet this small piece of land that the fear is that whoever possesses it will forever have to remain on guard. If we want to hold on to the land forever, we must continually till the soil.
