Have you
ever imagined what it is like to be a farmer?
Any farmer
is connected to their land in ways city-folk have a hard time understanding.
You feel the rhythm of the land, when it needs to rest and when it is ready to
bring forth new life.
There is
something magical about communing with the land, being in partnership so that
through your sweat and her nourishment you give birth to new growth that will
give life to others.
The Jewish
farmer in Zion has an even deeper union with the land.
It’s a 3000
year old love story consummated every time he or she goes to work, plants new
seeds, waters the lands. It is biblical prophecy fulfilled when he or she walks
the land, making it bloom once more.
The land
(particularly that in the Gaza area) was dormant, empty. Waiting. When her
lover come back she burst into bloom, producing rich fruit, vegetables,
anything and everything that could be desired, in thanks, in gratitude for,
once again being loved.
The Jewish
farmer doesn’t have to consciously think about how the relationship with the
land makes him (or her) a more complete Jew. It happens with every breath, with
every effort, with the glorious harvest after a year’s labor of love.
And then, in
an instant, it’s all ruined.
 |
| Melon field, Nahal Oz by Kfir Sivan |
One kite,
such an innocuous thing, a child’s toy, turned into a weapon, a firebomb burns
away a year of love. You aren’t hearing about these attacks on the news. To
others this is a non-story – Jews under fire, literally, day after day after
day.
Acres of
land going up in flames, crops ruined, wildlife burned alive. Greenhouses burnt
to the ground, homes drenched in smoke, poisoned air…
This is
something else, only the Jewish farmer experiences – people enraged that the
land is once again taking part on the centuries old love story that has nothing
to do with them. People so full of hate they are willing to burn farmer and
land together, just so that no one will benefit.
This is what
is happening in Israel now.
Take a look
at this field of melons by Nahal Oz. Melons in their prime, ripe and ready to
be harvested. Their juice should now be bursting in the mouths of the people
they were destined to nourish, their sweetness sliding down throats of people
who appreciate this produce of the land.
Instead they
lie, burned in ruin. The land that gave them life is now a grave instead of a
mother. The farmer that loved them, raised them to be all that they could be,
counted on them for the sweet life they would give him is left with bitter
tears.
When you
hear of kite bombs think of these melons.
Think of their farmer.
Think of this land.
2000 years of yearning, 70 years of hard work, investment of love and labor, livelihood of individuals, food for a nation. THAT is what is under attack.
It won’t
work.
We are Zion, home to stay