I am crying inside

I am crying inside. I cry over the tragic deaths of the Palestinian children who were murdered last night. Babies, they died in a fire set by Jews. These so-called 'Jews' actually painted the word 'Messiah' on the wall of the house, then let the occupants be engulfed in flames. I am so upset by this story, I cannot bring myself to read the details.

And how did I find out abut this? My son, an officer in the IDF, came home late last night after being away for close to two weeks. 

He was working night missions and had not slept properly in two weeks. His clothes stank, he was exhausted and still had that nagging cough I heard a few weeks ago. 

He came home after guarding an area near Beit El, trying to ensure that angry Jewish settlers who were recently evacuated from a hilltop, did not come back to attack Arab villages. 

The Jewish army protecting Arabs.  Think about this. 

All seemed quiet, so he was let go. All seemed quiet until he received a call in the early hours of this morning calling him back to base in the West Bank. He and his soldiers and his dirty laundry and his weary body that needed rest and his nagging cough. 

He got out of bed and grabbed his unpacked army bag, then called all his soldiers who had only arrived home. He told them, “You have to report to base now. No questions asked. No excuses. Now.”

All because some insane rebellious Jewish youth, in the name of 

G-d, set fire to a home and destroyed innocent lives. Not only did they inflame a home, they inflamed hatred, revenge and terror for Jews the world over.

As Shabbat comes in and my son’s seat at the Shabbat table is empty, we hope and pray, but I am running out of patience. For when I see such behavior by Jews, I feel hopeless. 

And when I picked up the Jerusalem Post today and saw the headlines about a Hareidi Jew who stabbed innocent bystanders at the gay parade yesterday, I lose even more hope.

These crimes are being done in the name of G-d and we are to be a light unto nations? We, who were just sitting on the floor last Sunday, fasting on Tisha B’Av over the senseless hatred that Jews have for each other?

The time is ripe for anti-semitism without such tragedies and crimes, and it seems as if we insist on being our worst enemies. 

I am ripped open inside with fear. My son’s bed is empty. He is now out there in a heat wave, in his stinky clothes, stuck in the middle of a hatred being spewed by Jews who do not abide by the law and by mourning Arabs who are enraged.  

As Shabbat comes in, I am crying inside.