In these troubled times I would like to share a personal moment with you, sir. I hope it moves you.
On December 10, 2012, my late husband was sitting in the sunshine discussing politics in the garden, which he so lovingly tended. He was telling our cousin Sara that she should consider voting for you in the next election – he had already suggested the same to me. Martin didn’t say that he himself would vote for you, but that’s because he knew he would be dead by then. I remember the date so vividly because it was the last time my darling saw the sun. Sara, a gifted physiotherapist, was giving him his final soothing massage. Martin sank into a coma just after that and died two days later.
Why I think of that now is because, at the time, we believed it was the cancer talking – my gorgeous husband was liberal and thoughtful and balanced; we couldn’t get how he was advocating for a religious, right-wing “settler type.” But Martin was almost always right, and lately I’ve been thinking that this was another example of his wisdom: you, Mr. Bennett, could work together with Yair Lapid and Mansour Abbas and heal the country – bringing left wing and right wing, Arab and Jewish citizens together, after years of leadership that encouraged us to spit at each other on the streets.
You know, I’ve been lonely since my husband left me. And recently someone kind introduced me to an English-speaking doctor who was looking for company. He seemed perfectly nice from his picture, I heard that he was compassionate and clever; very happily I agreed to meet. But when we chatted on the phone he said he admired Bibi, (although he guessed that the insane Mrs. Netanyahu was driving our leader off the rails). And that was enough for me. Even the promise of a hot apple strudel with vanilla ice cream couldn’t lure me for a first coffee.
Is this what we want for the country of the Jews? Where we just hate each other so much that we can’t even countenance living in the same space – never mind hating the other populations sharing our space?
Yet this is what we’ve been driven to by relentless rants that have divided us for more than 20 years, starting right from the time when Yitzhak Rabin was trying to give peace a chance.
A short two weeks ago I was sending breathless texts to my friends abroad: trying not to get hysterically excited, but it seems as if we’re about to get a sane government and start to heal. And do you know what, Naftali, much as I’d have thought that I’d much prefer a government comprised exclusively of Lapid, Benny Gantz, Meretz, Labor, Avigdor Liberman and Ra’am (UAL), I was actually happy that you and Gideon Sa’ar would be part of it. That seemed like a less polarizing constellation; a coalition for change and healing and miracles. To get our beloved country back on track and give us time to breathe and walk on the beach without berating our leaders all the bloody time.
You know something else? I was glad you are religious. A terrible thing has been happening to me lately; I am losing all connection to Judaism. When I first got here – some 50 years ago – I defined myself by my Judaism, it was what made me “me.” But living in a country where politics is toxically intertwined with religion, where cultists dictate our lifetime events, and mad “Hilltop Youth” make me ashamed of my people, I have found myself less interested in even making kiddush on a Friday night.
And then I started reading about you, and how you married your secular wife, and how you are prepared to sit with Abbas in the government and not immediately demand annexation, and I could understand what my husband had seen in you.
And then you dumped us.
You turned your back on the sane sector of society, and reneged on all your promises... and gave our Eternal and Supreme Leader what he couldn’t even have dreamt of a few short days ago – another shot at staying in power.
Oh, what a falling-off was there.
And, what’s more, you are catapulting yourself so pliantly into the arms of the very man who slandered you before, the very leader who is surely delighted that things are falling apart so perfectly for him at this propitious time. I am not partial to conspiracy theories, and I believe I’m a rational thinker; it’s hard for me to contemplate that our leader would deliberately fan the fires of internecine hatred just to torpedo coalition talks between disparate sectors of our fragile society. So I called Shabtai Shavit, legendary ex-director of the Mossad and a close personal friend and mentor of my late husband.
“Am I delusional,” I asked, “or is our leader playing with our lives?”
Shavit gave a measured, but unambiguous answer. “I have no smoking gun,” he admitted, “and it’s impossible to prove that this was deliberate. However,” he continued, “the timing is just too good for him to be entirely coincidental.”
Arabs have been living in the four contested properties in Sheikh Jarrah, for example, since 1948. Davka now they are up for grabs?
Security agents have been keeping the very fragile peace on the Temple Mount for decades; davka now they throw stun grenades into the mosque?
Ramadan has been celebrated in troubled times before; davka now they erect controversial barriers for no reason?
Then there was Itamar Ben-Gvir’s provocative and senseless relocation to office premises in the heart of east Jerusalem. Pure idealism untainted by politics?
C’mon.
Naftali Bennett, our nation turns its lonely eyes to you. Take a deep breath, call Lapid and Mansour Abbas, and get down to the business of healing our country. As my three-year-old grandson says, “You can do it!”
Do it for our grandchildren.
The writer lectures at IDC and Beit Berl. Peledpam@gmail.com