That's life 2/5/2010

Posted

Issue of February 5, 2010/ 21 Shvat 5770
When I was a kid, there was a game on Sesame Street called “Which of these things do not belong here?” Watching the screen, you had to figure out which of the four items shown was out of place and did not belong with the others.

As if we were playing that game, we came upon a series of wild poppy flowers growing amidst rubble, debris, garbage, barbed wire and thorns as we were led on a tour of Hebron. Many on the tour took notice of the poppies and some just walked by. There were those of us, however, who stopped to look and take a picture. “Why are you taking a picture of those flowers?” a woman asked, but to me the answer was simple.

“Because they don’t belong here,” I said, then added, “and it is amazing how something so beautiful could grow amongst such destruction.”

Quickly, the woman understood that I saw these flowers as a metaphor for the strong willed and determined group of Jews who live in Hebron, representing a mere 20 percent of the population against the other 80% who are Arab. What were the flowers doing on that hillside? As if defying the odds, they were growing on a small patch of grass, the way wild flowers often do. But how were they able to bloom and blossom despite the thicket of thorns that sat very close by? Perhaps, they were just meant to be there. There was a greater plan.

We walked a little further, noticing other small patches of poppies that had grown in small clusters. After a very short distance, however, there would be no other flowers to find. These delicate red beauties were limited to that area and seemed to stay close to each other, but beyond a certain border they did not go. This was their home. Maybe a strong wind blew the seeds of the first poppies and they settled a little further down, allowing a group to grow and then that cluster begat yet another.

Together, they formed a small garden in a place where no other garden could grow, a strength provided by their numbers and by their will. Their petals were red, representing their power and their might while at the same time, reminding those who admired them of the sacrifices had been made in order for them to be there.

The leader of our tour, Rabbi Simcha Hochbaum, has lived in Hebron for over a decade. He explained to us that many people say they admire the sacrifice he and the others who live there have made. He said he did not consider it a sacrifice but rather, a privilege. However, he added that we, who were taking the opportunity to visit Me’arat Ha’machpelah on what turned out to be a warm and beautiful day in January, should make no mistake — we were only able to visit because he and the others lived there. It was a powerful statement and while I had not thought about it before, he was absolutely right.

The same could be said for anyone who lives in Israel. I can visit because others have the privilege, and many have sacrificed, to live there. It is a truth to behold, appreciate and not take for granted. They, too, are the red poppies of the Middle East — growing, fighting and determined while surrounded by thorns and broken glass, elements that could certainly stunt its growth or potentially destroy it altogether. How are those flowers able to bloom while surrounded by circumstances that would make it impossible for others to break through the soil?

Many would not have given them a chance and the odds were against them as well. But clearly, someone wanted them to be there. They most certainly belong and there is certainly a greater plan.

MLW