A Time of Reflection

News of the recent Tel Aviv suicide bombing broke through the tenuous quiet that had graced Israel for the past few weeks. The painful news reminded the world that the recent lack of terrorist activity was not a promising change of climate. It was merely a temporary reprieve from the violence that has scarred Israelis and Palestinians alike. Over the past few "tranquil" weeks the Israeli Defense Force managed to stop dozens of planned acts of terrorism. So it was a great disappointment, but not much of a surprise, to hear that terrorism has returned. For so long as people are willing to murder in order to make a statement, terrorism will continue.

This past week Jews observed their holiest day of the year, Yom Kippur. For 25 hours, daily routines were put on hold, with most Israelis spending the day fasting and praying in synagogue. Buses and trains stopped running, and on there were few to no cars on the road. Banks, post offices, and shops remained closed. Even public radio and television went off the air. This year in particular, the mood was serious, somber, and reflective. Yom Kippur is a time of questioning, of soul-searching, and of repentance. On this Day of Judgment, the value of life is felt stronger than on any other day of the year. The fragility and feebleness of human life is best conveyed through the remembrance of those who have passed since the last Yom Kippur, and through the prescient and speculative fear of those who will pass before the next. This year a new prayer was distributed for the victims of terrorism. As it was recited in synagogues across the world, all remembered the countless terrorist acts that, like a trail of bloodied breadcrumbs through a forest, lead us through the abyss of this past year's horror.

One specific mark along the way comes to mind. It is the one that took place on a university campus not unlike our own. It is the one that happened in a bustling cafeteria, full of students and faculty grabbing a bite to eat in between classes. On July 31, when a Hamas terrorist decided to detonate a bomb hidden in an inconspicuous knapsack in this cafeteria, he dramatically changed Hebrew University. In a split second, the earth shook, the cafeteria was gutted, and smoke wafted through the sky. Nine people were killed and 85 were wounded. That split second, which turned the world into darkness and chaos for those in the cafeteria, will have everlasting repercussions.

Beyond the physical damage is the innate psychological damage that the bombing caused, both to the people directly affected and to the university campus as a whole. Hebrew University, whose founding predates that of the state of Israel, has embodied the ideals of pluralism and tolerance since its inception. Like our own University, Hebrew University prides itself on the value of peaceable communication. It is a multicultural haven within Jerusalem, set majestically atop Mount Scopus, where students of all backgrounds, nationalities, and religions come together to study, to converse, and to grow in knowledge. For two years, while the communities surrounding it had become polarized, with Arabs and Jews growing more suspicious and less trusting of one another, the university remained a peaceful haven. While the country around it was boiling up and bubbling over with conflict, Hebrew University remained surprisingly cool. It was a common sight to see Israelis walking through the campus with Arabs, engaging each other in discussion. To outsiders it was a reminder of the values of peaceful coexistence that the country was founded on. It reminded them of the way things were before the intifada began, and cast an optimistic vision of the way things could once again be. But when the terrorist set off the explosion, he drew an imaginary line between Jews and Arabs, forcefully splitting what had incredibly managed to remain whole during the two years of incessant violence.

These feelings of vulnerability, invasion, and loss have hit home for Americans as well. A year has passed since our own city awoke to find itself trembling in terrorism's grasp. But from that one horrific day of loss sprung many more days of life. And on this past Sept. 11 we were able once again to unite as a nation. Across the country we grieved for our lost ones, honored the survivors, and were thankful that we are still here today.

During this time of remembrance and reflection, we recognize just what a gift life is, and we realize that, although we cannot change the past and cannot go back to a pre-Sept. 11 day or a time before the Hebrew University bombing, we can still hope for a better future, a future of peace. We must align ourselves with those who work towards peace, pluralism, and tolerance and stay vigilant against those who threaten it. Only in this vision can we begin to repair what was shattered and put back together what was once whole.