The Jerusalem Massacre

The morning of March 6, I was sipping my coffee and checking my email when a thought whizzed through my head: something’s going to happen in Israel today. Don’t ask me why and don’t ask me how — it was like a flash of a movie scene — you see something but it’s all blurry. All I ’saw’ was that there was going to be an attack and it was going to grab the attention of the world. But I didn’t take it seriously. I have a vivid imagination and I am a ponderer. Plus, Israel always seems to be in trouble, so the ‘thought’ was nothing unusual and I soon forgot about it.

Later that day, as I was listening to NPR’s All Things Considered, I heard that eight students had been murdered and more than 20 wounded at Jerusalem’s Mercaz Harav Yeshiva. My heart sank. No God, no. I couldn’t believe it. What was so chilling about this horrendous crime is that it happened at a religious school. I thought of all the children I know attending school every day and the parents of those children that believe their children are safe.

This attack felt personal. I love Israel. I love the Jewish people. I love the Torah. Plus, I have always considered myself a student of the Bible. These were students devoted to a Holy Book. They were young men devoted to a worthy pursuit. When I saw the picture from Reuters of the Torah splattered with blood, I was outraged. I thought of something written in the Book of Genesis after Cain killed his brother Abel:

“And the LORD said unto Cain, Where is Abel your brother? And Cain said, I know not: Am I my brother’s keeper? And the LORD said, What have you done? the voice of your brother’s blood cries unto me from the ground.”

Suddenly, I could hear the blood of these young men, the Jerusalem Eight. They were reminding me of all the precious blood of the prophets spilled from the beginning of time. They were reminding me that the world has not healed itself of its hatred. They were reminding me that life is unpredictable and I should take nothing for granted. They were reminding me of the cost of building a family or a nation. They were reminding me that faith in God doesn’t mean bad things won’t happen. It means your spirit is fully engaged while you are alive on this Earth.

The blood of the Jerusalem Eight cries out to us. They are reminding us that the blood inside every human being is the same color and the only thing we should hate is evil.