by Yehuda Poch Arutz Sheva May 1, 2006

This week, Israel celebrates 58 years of independence for the Jewish
nation. This is not just a celebration of Israeli independence, but of Jewish
independence around the world. And the celebration every year takes on a
uniquely Jewish perspective, since it is immediately preceded by remembrance – of
those who were slaughtered because they were defenseless Jews left to the
devices of a hostile world, and of those who died in defending our newfound
independence.

Last week, we stopped for two minutes as a siren blared out its plaintive
call of remembrance for those who were murdered in the Holocaust – the
culmination of two millennia of world-wide anti-Semitism.

And this week, those same sirens will blare two more plaintive calls of
remembrance for Israeli soldiers who have been killed in the line of battle, and
for Israeli citizens and our friends who have been killed in terrorist
attacks – the work of those who believe the Nazis’ job is not yet done.

For every one of the people taken from us by our enemies, for every life cut
short, for every life deprived of its full meaning through the loss of a
loved one, we stand in honor and in memory.

And then, with the honor and memory of the fallen still fresh in our minds
and our hearts, we celebrate what they gave their lives for us to have: our
own independent, strong, vital, powerful, productive, spiritual identity and a
place to let all of that blossom forth.

Israelis know better than any other nation how to celebrate with strength,
with vigor, and with a heart dripping with tears over what our celebration has
cost. And those tears give our celebration that much more meaning, because
we are also celebrating for them, for those who can’t be here to celebrate
with us.

This year, for the first time since I was old enough to drive, I am not
displaying an Israeli flag on my car or on my home. This is not because the
celebrations are any less meaningful to me, for they are not. The State of Israel
in the Land of Israel is no less miraculous, no less powerful, no less a
manifestation of the return of the Jewish nation to our G-d-given homeland, than
it has been in previous years. And certainly, I will join in the
celebrations in my community and across the nation.

But for me, this year’s Remembrance Day is far more powerful than it has
been previously, for there is far more to remember.

This year, I remember 1,118 people who have been murdered by our terrorist
enemies in the past five years. I stand with their families in mourning over
the incredible loss their deaths represent.

This year, I remember 24 communities that a year ago were flourishing
outposts of humanity in a region of inhumane animals bent only on killing. This
year, those communities no longer exist – torn out of the ground by a Jewish
government in an action that, had it been committed anywhere else in the world,
would have been condemned as an anti-Semitic pogrom. 8,000 people were left
homeless by a Jewish government pledged to their protection. Most of them
remain without new jobs. None have permanent housing, many do not even have
adequate temporary housing, and few have been given the promised compensation,
nine months after the lives they had worked so hard to build were destroyed.

The places where those homes once stood are now used by terrorists as
training grounds and as launch sites for missiles aimed at other Jewish
communities, as the murderous campaign of our terrorist neighbors continues unabated.

This year, I remember a time when the Israeli government represented an end
to such pogroms around the world. When the thought of Israeli military
reprisal was enough to scare off potential attackers and when the use of that
military meant certain defeat for anyone not wise enough to be scared off. Now,
the IDF is hamstrung by inept leaders and cowardly politicians more interested
in appeasement than in victory.

Last month, though, Israel elected a new prime minister, a man quoted within
the last year as saying, “We are tired of fighting. We are tired of being
courageous. We are tired of winning. We are tired of defeating our enemies.”

Ehud Olmert should listen very carefully to the sirens this week. The kind
of attitude he described to a group in New York last June raises some serious
questions: If he is tired of fighting, what would he rather have us do,
simply give up and be killed? If he is tired of being courageous, what would he
rather have us do, return to the meek and powerless existence that resulted in
our deaths at the hands of pogrom, Inquisition and Holocaust? If he is tired
of winning, what would he rather have us do, lose? If he is tired of
defeating our enemies, would he rather they defeat us?

As one of the primary driving forces behind last summer’s expulsion plan,
Ehud Olmert has already set in motion policies to achieve exactly these aims.
And last month we elected this man prime minister. He is liable to think that
his election means a public mandate for him to achieve the further return of
the Jews to an oppressed and degraded nation. That is not something I can
wave from my car or my home.

The sirens we hear this week are plaintive. They are the entire nation – the
very land itself – crying over what we have lost. They don’t exist anywhere
else in the world. But this year, they have another reason to cry. They are
crying out a warning that it can happen again. And as long as that is true,
we have not truly won anything.

This entry was posted on Tuesday, May 2nd, 2006 and is filed under opinion.