Something needs to be spoken. Truth, perhaps, or just the cry of the people
Almost an entire nation sleeps, oblivious to what had become of it, imbued with
dissociation, with horror, with murderous self-righteous fantasies of supremacy, of
the Übermensch. We, for I shall not cower from my identity, since it is my people, my land, slaughter them, no longer seeing them as human, but rather – like we were
once seen – as vermin, and therefore, ridding ourselves of their presence is not one
of the ten commandments, for none of these rules states thou shall not kill vermin
but is, and has always been, limited to fellow humans. Thou shall not commit murder.
Here we stay, silent, as our brethren is being annihilated by the same hands that
once touched a yellow star, obliterated – indeed not yet in their millions, but I swear
to God that if this carries on, the numbers will reach that. Solving the Palestinian
problem in a similar way to that old attempt of solving the Jewish problem.
Mice, no – rats, now hurry in their burrows to hide from the bombers, children stifle in their hunger yet we remain silent, or shouting in the streets for it to stop, for those who cannot bear to watch it, those who think it inconceivable that those who were once taken to slaughter like sheep could one day hold the reins and lead others in the same paths.
Yet we do. Justified by blind hatred, faith in the Übermensch which this time lacks the tall blond stature and the piercing blue eyes and simply has a heritage to prove its superiority, I am Jewish therefore I am better, better than you all, I am the chosen one.
I am the chosen one. I have been chosen, time and again, to survive, to remain here,
with my beard and my yarmulka, my prayers and the close relationship with god
which nobody else shares, all simply bow before me as they recognise my
superiority or, should they fail to recognise this, at least I am there to know it, to hold this truth close to heart as it justifies the most horrid of actions, of starving and
maiming children, women and men, young and old, and all in the name of
entitlement.
This land is mine, and therefore it cannot be yours. This god is mine alone and you
do not partake in its divinity. Life on this planet was given to me and mine, to us, to
rule and govern and smile and get old and die peacefully.
And what about the broken smiles of those whose teeth we broke? And what of the
yearning hearts of those whose houses we have taken or demolished with such
ease? These must not be counted, must not be accounted for, since these may look
human, but they are not like us, they are nothing like us.
Their hearts beat hatred does not love for their children or mothers.
Their prayers sow destruction rather than wishes for peace and simplicity or even,
God forbid, abundance.
Their lives were meant for us to have, to rule and to take.
Our eyes are shut. We shall not breathe them burning fumes of the crematoriums
since we do not burn their bodies, not yet at least. We shall not frequent their
concentration camps since we do not own our destructive hands but instead, just like we have been taught, we close them, shut them tight, repeating the mantras of
xenophobic lies and hateful revenge, seeing them all as one animal, no – beast –
which cannot but be completely destroyed should we want to claim our lives.
And so, devoid of choice, following the inevitable call of this god of ours who
promised us the land of milk and honey, once stolen from the cows and bees and
now taken by force, we walk the same path that those dreaded officers in their
frightening costumes once walked, deeming the Star of David, which was once a
symbol of protection and connection with the divine, to become a symbol of
devastation and cruelty. Our darkest hour was not the time we were nearly
obliterated as a people, no, but this time, today, right now, when we lift the whip to
repeat what was done to us without blinking.
From the darkest hour of our nation’s history, I reach out with a prayer for our
awakening. May we open our eyes to realise what we have done. May we stop the
slaughter and murder and allow our Palestinian brothers and sisters to live
peacefully while we spend the next years and decades redeeming our souls. Are
they redeemable at all? Will you, dear people, dear god, listen to my prayer and put
an end to this? Hold down our hands to make us stop. Clear the dust from our eyes
to make us see. Cleanse our shattered hearts so they may feel the crimes they have
committed, and repent.
Dear God, please put an end to this massacre.
My name is Jonah, and I speak on behalf of those of my people who must remain
silent to survive. There are many of us who oppose the government yet are unable to
speak up for fear of retribution, of harm to themselves or their families. Unlike the
people of Gaza, I might not be murdered, but there are other ways of causing me
harm. These fears are real and therefore this voice is mine but is not mine alone.
