The Feeling of Community in the Face of Danger

By DOVID BEN-MEIR
Did you ever open the front door to your house at the exact moment guests were standing there?
A friend of mine had that happen to him. He and his wife are working professionals in their thirties, parents to five children from age eleven to age seven months. They live in my comunity, in a neighborhood about a twenty minute walk away. 
My friend opened the door at 5:15 in the morning, on his way out, and his "guests" were two teenagers from the neighboring Arab village. They stood there with clubs and knives in their hands. They attacked him, pushing him into his house, while he fought back with bare hands, pushing them away from the part of the house where his wife and children were. My friend, in addition to being a lawyer, working in a governmental office, is also a major in the reserves, so he knows how to call out clear and concise orders. As he struggled to push the attackers out of the house he called out to his wife: "It's real (as opposed to a drill)! Call security! Lock the doors of the bedrooms!" She did so as he succeeded in pushing them out of the house and locking the door.
He was bleeding, from the blows to his head, and would be taken to hospital for stitches and other medical care, but it was a small price to pay for saving his wife and children. The eldest son, just eleven years old, took upon himself the responsibility to calm his little siblings. He took out little dolls of animals sat and played with them. "This is the lion, that's daddy, he's a brave hero" the child told his siblings, then he took up a sheep and a goat saying "and these are the cowards who came to attack, but daddy pushed them away and now we're safe."
For us it was a regular morning – except for the news we received from the town secretary over our cell phones that there was a "security event" going on. The next morning I went to visit my friends who had been attacked. The door to the house, which the day before had a knife with a 20cm blade stuck in it, was now covered with handwritten signs. One large sign read: "To daddy, our hero! Loving and hugging you!" It was signed by the children. Another large sign came from the children and families of the neighborhood – praising him for the courage and quick thinking, wishing him well and a complete recovery. There were also get well notes from the local schools and the town council. Entering their house they were perfect hosts, offering tea or coffee, and cake from one of the cakes neighbors had brought. He explained what had happened and she told us the story of the children. They both glowed with the light of newlyweds, the glow of a loving couple who realize very well that they almost lost each other the day before, but now thank God they were together and all would be well. They told their stories without rancor or hatred, but with a loving appreciation of life.
They did tell us that they had heard the angry shouting of the funeral of the two teenage terrorists who had come to slaughter a Jewish family and die as "martyrs". I wondered: what kind of education and culture could raise those kids to want to kill people they didn't know and had never hurt them? Some say it's the occupation – but I don't buy that. One has to have a terrible lack of morality to sink a knife into someone you don't know. Tibet has been occupied for a longer time – yet you don't hear about Tibetans knifing Chinese settlers. It's a cultural thing… and education. The Palestinian Authority undertook in the Oslo Accords to educate the population to live in peace with their Jewish neighbors – but they do the opposite, by inciting murderous hatred and glorifying terrorists.
The neighborhood where the attack took place hosted the rest of the entire community for a dance of thanksgiving that the terror attack failed to hurt anyone. I guess our neighbors could hear the music and dancing – but the whole tone of the music wasn't one of hatred of the other, but rather a celebration of life, communal love and mutual assistance.