Reality is sobering

Maybe it's because I'm American and have grown up with an expectation of health and security.  I've been raised to believe, wholeheartedly, that as long as I don't talk to strangers and I don't walk in a city alone at night and I don't drive while intoxicated then I need not fear for my wellbeing.  Like a simple equation, I was taught that your own actions have their own consequences and that as such you can be the master of your own destiny.

Or maybe it's because I'm currently living on a kibbutz, surrounded by friendly, caring people who go about their daily lives without superfluous concern.  The perimeter of my temporary home is innocuously lined with a fence of barbed wire (surprisingly commonplace in this country), and I am lulled into the security of this sheltered community where I can walk freely day and night without fear of harm.

But the bombing at a Jerusalem bus stop on Wednesday has shaken me in ways I do not quite comprehend.

At 3:00 PM Israel time (8:00 am Central Standard Time, USA), a bomb hidden inside a bag exploded, injuring about 40 people.  The bag had been left at the bus stop and remotely detonated, and thanks to witnesses, police and Israeli Defense Forces have at least some idea of the terrorist they're tracking.  Among the people wounded, four were critically injured, five moderately, and the remaining were treated for minor wounds and shock.  One of the women who was seriously injured died later that afternoon due to the injuries she sustained.  She was a British tourist.

In class that afternoon our Ulpan director came to tell us the news.  When he left the room, leaving in his wake a shocked silence and unnameable tinge of fear, our teacher simply said "Welcome to Israel."

With the exception of a bombing in 2004, Jerusalem has been quiet and relatively peaceful for the past decade.  But despite the silence in the national news Israel at large has not experienced peace.  Just last week a mom, dad, and three of their five children were slaughtered in their home in the West Bank.  Near Gaza in the South, non-explosive rockets are continually lobbed into Israel, hitting nearby cities such as Sderot, and even Beersheba and Ashdod.  For people who live in those corners of the country, that threat is simply part of their reality, a constant warning that hovers in the air, becoming part of their breath and life.

To a larger extent, that threat exists everywhere in Israel, and for the first time I think I'm beginning to recognize it.  The question is:  How do you function with that fear?

It seems the secret to living in Israel and, more specifically, as an Israeli, is to recognize what you can affect and what you cannot, which dangers you can avoid and which you should simply ignore because you have no control over them.  You need to trust and have faith in whichever power you choose, whether it be the government, the military, G-d, Man, or the balance of the Universe at large.  Following events such as the bombing in Jerusalem or the rockets in Sderot, people learn quickly that the healthiest way to react is to move on, to continue with life as you did the day before.  בלי פניקה  - without panic.

The amazing thing is that you never actually see any fear in the people around you.  Maybe it doesn't exist.  Maybe this is all a psychological projection of my own insecurities and American sensibilities.  But regardless of whether or not the fear is present it is a testament to the Israeli psyche that life can continue, and joyfully, too.

The reality is that despite threats of violence, life does go on.  Traffic flows, stores open and close, the vendors at the shook still yell and bargain and loudly advertise their choicest merchandise.  Children still ride the bus to school, parents still go to their offices, and teenagers still try desperately to vainly promote their individuality, just like everyone else.  Palm trees remain standing tall, birds still sing, and flowers still look on, demurely adding color and joy to the lives of people who pass them by.

Fear has no place in a world such as this, and people who fear cannot possibly enjoy the plethora of goodness that does exist.

So as a temporary kibbutznik and resident in this tiny country, I, too, will not fear.  I'll still make sure not to walk alone in the city at night, and I won't dare get behind any wheel, but I will not waste time in useless contemplation of what is beyond my control.

After all, life is meant to be lived.