Day 11: Ariel Sharon vs. God

Sharon beat God.

I was there.  I saw it, with my own eyes.  I saw the ark of the Torah and the tablets of the Ten Commandments above it.  I was in there when those beautiful, earnest, loving young women were praying and singing with all there hearts, with hope still burning inside them.  I felt their passion, their love for Israel, their love for God.

I sang with them.  I heard their cries, and I cried with them.

“Our Father Our King, annul all evil decrees against us!”

“Our Father Our King, have mercy on us and answer us — for we have no deeds — act with charity and kindness and deliver us!”

And I almost thought, looking at the Torah, that this was the moment — that we had it — that God would hear our prayers and that our cries would strike the hearts of the soldiers — and possibly even Bush’s — and they would be awestruck.  The decree would be annulled, and the soldiers would either join us or turn around, for how could they destroy such beauty?  How could they desecrate the God of Israel’s name in broad daylight, in the eyes of the world. “No, I can’t do it,” they would say to each other and to their commander. “How could we do this?”

“We need a miracle!  Where’s the miracle?” cried one girl next to me, tears streaming down her face.

Then a stupid idiot with a beard standing by the bimah took the Torah scroll in his arms and began to sing the mourners’ prayer “El Maaleh Rahamim” to signal the finale.  He was probably paid by the Shabak.

And then another stupid idiot with a beard tore his orange shirt, while the girls were crying “no, no, no!” They were not ready to go yet.  At least most of them.  Some girls followed the rabbi because, after all, he was a rabbi.

But most of them would have sung until evening.  They knew they almost had it.  They knew that if they kept the Torah ark open longer, if they prayed and prayed and respectfully yet firmly kicked out those intruding three police bitch commanders with the Star of David caps that maybe they could have held off the army a little longer, even just for a few hours.  Who knows?  Maybe the army would have even called it off for the night, and we would have had another Shabbat at the Gush.

But the army did not at all seem concerned with the kids.  They had a schedule to keep and the press was getting tired.  I know CNN was dying to get home.  They told me so.  The Italian cameraman I befriended kept asking me when it was going to end.  It was hot outside.

Throughout the entire week members of the press were treated as kings while the Israeli kids were treated like criminals.  The press — who have had a vengeance against Israel for years — were allowed free access through human police roadblocks while Israeli kids were turned or dragged away.

But these young women in the synagogue were the queens.  They knew the truth in their hearts.  They wanted to fight and sing for it, a little longer.

But they were mistaken to believe in a supernatural miracle.

Sharon didn’t.  He acted.  He didn’t let anything get in his way.  He had no God.  He used all natural, however immoral, means to achieve his position and bring Israel to this.  To fight the God of Israel — and to win.

Gush Katif prayed.  We prayed with evil staring us in the face.  I too prayed, and I too was aghast when the bitch policewomen, ever so gently, pulled apart the synagogue benches barricading the women, while they cried and screamed, and picked them out one by one.

“Save your soul right now and walk away,” I told one of the female robots.  She just stood their dumbstruck.  Her officer was behind her so she had to continue to pick up the “garbage.”

“Don’t touch me!” I said as they got to me.

“Then walk with me,” said another robot.

“I don’t want to walk with you.  You’re disgusting.”

Then her friend took my other arm and I fidgeted while they escorted me out.  There was nothing more to do.  Our prayers were not answered.  They were rejected in our faces and on our bodies.

I walked out shouting, two rows of soldiers on each side, as if cheering and welcoming us: “I came to Israel for this!  I’m going back to America.  This country’s falling apart!  It’s going down.  Way to go IDF!  You should all be proud.”

Girls behind me were being dragged out, their bodies above the ground, tears in their eyes and the anger of God burning in their hearts.

That’s where the anger of God now rests.  In their hearts.  In my heart.  In all of our hearts.  In the hearts of everyone who had the privilege of being in Gush Katif.

Only I hope — if hope even works anymore — that this time we turn this anger into bold, organized, and physical deeds.  For as the prayer said, “we have no deeds.” Enough prayers, enough waiting for the Messiah, enough asking the rabbis’ permission, enough relying on hope for a miracle.

From here on out let us take ruthless action, as Sharon did, and reclaim our God.

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