In these very difficult hours for the State of Israel, in the midst of a war on physical and ideal borders, of international isolation, with the longed-for wait for the return of the 58 hostages, we find ourselves celebrating the 58th anniversary of the liberation and unification of Jerusalem. Yom Yerushalaim and the end of the Six-Day War (not 60, nor 600!), with the fundamental choices made then regarding the definition of the new borders, citizenship and civil status granted to the inhabitants of the city, to the Palestinians and the other territories then conquered in Syria and Egypt. The reiterated choice (unquestioned by any Israeli and discussed by everyone else in the world) to affirm Jerusalem as the Capital of the State of Israel, reaffirming its historical centrality.
I know that in the face of the shock and general mourning for the massacre of October 7, in the face of the tens of thousands of victims in Gaza and the devastation, in the face of the insistence on responsibilities for October 7 and the current conduct of the war, with growing antisemitism in our cities, in the face of divisions and lacerations within Israeli society itself, it seems impossible to believe in coexistence. But I, who was born and raised in Jerusalem, believe in it. And I think that even in such hard times we must not give in and we must continue to truly believe in it despite everything. I believe in this coexistence not as a dream for the times of the Messiah and for a distant tomorrow that is the fruit of international agreements and negotiations with the old and new powerful people of the world, but as a daily life that surrounds the inhabitants of this thousand-year-old city, where in a few minutes we cross spaces belonging to one another.
I believe in this daily life because in Jerusalem I have always lived like this – and even in these last few days – the spaces and places of weekdays and Shabbat in which faiths, cultures and different ways of understanding religiosity intersect. If coexistence exists in Yerushalaim after October 7, in the gardens that line the most moving panoramic routes, in hospitals and infirmaries, in supermarkets, in small shops, in taxis, in the University, in cinemas, in the streets of the Old City, in the Holy Sepulchre, in shopping malls, in the sound of the shofar accompanied by the call of the muezzin and the ringing of bells, then it is also possible in other parts of Israel and it is also possible in other parts of the world. If this humanity exists and is experienced in the heart of the world then it is possible for it to exist everywhere. It is a matter of wanting it and paradoxically taking it so much for granted that it becomes reality. It is a matter of wanting it as individuals, as a community, as the government of Israel. On a day of celebration for Jerusalem with its miracles of development, concerts and avant-garde, with its inhabitants ready to welcome visitors, and the thousands of people who will dance marching with the flags of Israel towards the Kotel, this is the spirit with which I am about to spend the day.
I keep in a corner of my heart the tears for the fallen, the anguish for the hostages, the anxiety for the fate of the war (or wars), the pain for those who suffer the war as trapped victims, the anger for those who sacrifice themselves in defense and those who withdraw from the common effort, the clear awareness that while I live with others, others are planning death. I keep in another corner of my heart the fears for what is presented here as media-political-cultural-historical distortion with all the why's to which we are unable to answer, the threats to our communities. I put aside for a moment the small personal and work-related anguish.
I also respond today with the life that continues and the trust in the future that I read through the grandchildren who go to kindergarten and to the swimming pool, the preparations of the parents who start the day in the city chosen at the time of their Aliyah, through its natural light and that designed by my dad to illuminate every street corner and every monumental street at night, through the excitement around the Mahane Yehuda market, through the noise of the bulldozers in the construction sites of the various roads and buildings under construction that overwhelms that of the sirens, through the weddings just celebrated and those in full preparation, the births just celebrated and those awaited, the thunder of the prayers invoked and participated in today.
This editorial was originally published in Italian in Moked.
