A national family

After a short trip to the Old City of Jerusalem this morning, I got together with our family friends, Yitzhak and Yael Hoffman, who live in Israel during the summers and in Chicago the rest of the year. Before I got to their house, Yitzhak pulled over his car next to a tent and a small area of fence surrounding the Prime Minister's home's property that was covered in posters, banners, yellow ribbons, and bumper stickers--all having to do with the release of Gilad Shalit. Gilad Shalit is an Israeli soldier who was kidnapped by members of Hamas in June, 2006 (when we were last here with the whole family), and who, although has been said to be alive, has not seen the daylight since his capture. Gilad's parents and friends, as well as anyone who wishes, sit in the tent outside the Prime Minister's home in protest of his delayed release and in support of actions towards his release. When I visited the tent, Gilad's mother was there, talking to a couple--likely strangers. In a way, the tent felt like a Shiva house--the place where a deceased person is mourned for a week after their death. We sat on plastic chairs, there were pictures of Gilad everywhere, and the awkward "what am I supposed to say" feeling was overwhelming. In the end, I ended up telling Gilad's mom that I came from America, and that we all know what happened to Gilad, and that we'll hope, pray, and show our support until he comes home.

Visiting the tent was another "only in Israel" moment--I can't even begin to imagine something like that happening in America without hoards of security and the media. Gilad's parents have chosen to sit in this tent in protest, and the people here have respected that decision by supporting them with banners, ribbons, and visits to their temporary "living room." I find that sensitivity to his parents' feelings and the cross between protection of their privacy and public, national recognition of their emotions to be something amazing.