Over the past few days the husband began feeling anxious and suffered from insomnia. He roamed the hills surrounding the guest house he was staying at, muttering about Jesus.

Dr. Taufik Abu Nasser, a senior psychiatrist at Poria, said the man underwent a series of tests in the emergency room, including a psychiatric examination and blood tests to determine whether he had used hallucinogenic drugs.

“Then at some point, after he’d calmed down, he suddenly got up and left the ward,” recalled Dr. Abu Nasser. “There’s a walkway connecting the emergency room to the other wards, and he just climbed the wall next to it and jumped from a height of over 13 feet to the ground level.”

Wikipedia’s article on Jerusalem Syndrome describes three types of the affliction. The first two categories are of people who have had some history of psychosis prior to arriving in Jerusalem. But the best known type is the third one. It describes a previously stable/mentally balanced person who becomes psychotic after arriving in Jerusalem - or another place with religious sites (in this case, the Sea of Galilee).

The psychosis is accompanied by an intense religious experience, and often a personification of a religious character (the messiah, John the Baptist, Mohammed, etc.). Many times sufferers believe that they have been personally called by God, and are in conversation with Him.

Wikipedia lists a distinct pattern of behaviors:
1. Anxiety, agitation, nervousness and tension, plus other unspecified reactions.

2. Declaration of the desire to split away from the group or the family and to tour Jerusalem alone. Tourist guides aware of the Jerusalem syndrome and of the significance of such declarations may at this point refer the tourist to an institution for psychiatric evaluation in an attempt to preempt the subsequent stages of the syndrome. If unattended, these stages are usually unavoidable.

3. A need to be clean and pure: obsession with taking baths and showers; compulsive fingernail and toenail cutting.

4. Preparation, often with the aid of hotel bed-linen, of a long, ankle-length, toga-like gown, which is always white.

5. The need to shout psalms or verses from the Bible, or to loudly sing religious hymns or spirituals. Manifestations of this type serve as a warning to hotel personnel and tourist guides, who should then attempt to have the tourist taken for professional treatment. Failing this, the two last stages will develop.

6. A procession or march to one of Jerusalem’s holy places.

7. Delivery of a ‘sermon’ in a holy place. The sermon is usually very confused and based on a plea to humankind to adopt a more wholesome, moral, simple way of life.

The pattern is bizarrely familiar from case to case. And those who work in the tourist industry (hotel workers, tour guides, bus drivers, etc.) know to watch for it. Until you experience it (or read about someone who did), it sounds....almost silly, perhaps childish. Someone being so moved by a visit to a religious site that they think they are God (or another religious figure)? Yet, it is very real and happens with a surprisingly alarming rate. According to the SavyTraveler, in 1999, fifty people were diagnosed with it! [They also note that in a typical year, Israel sees 3 or 4 of these cases - and perhaps the increase in 1999 was related to the approach of the millenium.]

I’m tired of walking everywhere because buses and cabs can’t get down the main streets of Jerusalem because President Bush’s entourage is here.

I’m tired of hearing helicopters roam the skies, looking for...i don’t know what. If they’re American, they’re concerned about the security of the President. If they’re Israeli helicopters, they’re concerned about the security of everyone else.

I’m tired of the rocket attacks. A mall in Ashkelon was hit the day before yesterday. 15 people were wounded, four of them (including a mother and her toddler) were injured seriously. And 87 people were treated for shock. EIGHTY SEVEN. The newspaper has a picture of the toddler’s bloody shoe, left at the scene. I want to vomit.

I’m tired of talking about peace while the Palestinians talk about Nakba. How do we move forward if they can only look to the past?

I’m tired of the UN. In general, I think they are relatively useless. And I’m tired of them making stupid mistakes like commemorating with the Palestinians on their Nakba day.

And speaking of the N-word, I’m sick of it. The Palestinians aren’t upset that the Israelis took some of their land 60 years ago. They are upset that we exist, in general. And I’m sorry to have to break the news, but we’re here to stay. And not only are we here to stay, but while we’re here, we tend to make life better for the Palestinians than ANY OTHER Arab country - despite the fact that they do their best to kill us.

I’m tired of the security warnings that say not to ride buses and to stay out of the center of town. And I’m tired of feeling guilty when I go into the center of town, despite the warnings.

I’m tired of this scandal that hasn’t really even begun yet, with PM Olmert. I’m ready for some politicians (in all the countries of this world) to be people that we can trust, people who are of a higher moral fiber.

I’m just plain old tired, and I want to see something change. And the longer it takes, the less willing I am going to be to be the one to change.

As many of you know, I grew up in the States, where Memorial Day means BBQs and sales, and the Fourth of July (Independence Day) means more BBQs and fireworks. In America, the two holidays are a few months apart. Not so in Israel.

I wanted to share some of the highlights of my experience with you.

Tuesday night began Yom HaZikaron - Day of Remembrance. I had an eery thought as I walked home from school that afternoon. I noticed a man carrying a bundle of flowers home. Usually if I see this (especially on Friday afternoons before Shabbat starts), I think to myself “I wonder who the lucky woman is?”, and that thought is usually followed by, “gee, I wish someone would bring me flowers!” But at that moment, all I could do was wonder whose grave those flowers were going to be placed on the following day.

The day began with a 1 minute siren through the whole country, where everyone stood for a moment of silence. Most people were at a memorial ceremony of some sort. And most people wear white. I went to a high school ceremony that honored and remembered the forty-four graduates of their school that were killed while defending Israel. It was very touching. There were songs, poems, and stories. Each person was remembered individually, as two students carried a wreath bearing that person’s name across the stage. Occasionally, non-students would carry the wreath and that was the hardest to watch, because it was usually the fallen soldier’s parents, wife, children, or siblings.

On Wednesday morning I joined thousands and thousands of people at the nation’s military cemetery, Har Herzl. Another siren blared at 11am, for two minutes. I was not quite at the cemetery by the time the siren had began. In fact, I was in the middle of walking through a busy intersection right outside of the cemetery. The area that had been chaotic and crazy a moment before, stop and stood at a stand still. It was very powerful to watch.

The picture that I’ve placed in the article is from ynetnews.com, and it is of the moment of the siren. Although the soldier saluting is probably what is supposed to be striking about, if you look beyond him, you can see a row of people standing next to their cars. You can see buses and cars stopped. A split second before the siren, these cars all had drivers in them and were rolling right along. Now life stood still.

I was worried that I would be less effected by this siren, because there had been one the previous night, one last week for Holocaust Remembrance Day, and one a few weeks ago as a practice. I’m grateful to say that I was definitely still moved! I was a little bit more able to look around and see all the people standing still - bus drivers who had gotten out of their buses, crossing guards and police officers who stood at attention, even little kids who stopped playing.

You can read more about peoples experiences with the day here, here, here, and you can see a video of people stopping for the siren here!

In the evening between Yom HaZikaron (Day of Remembering) and Yom Ha’Atzmaut (Independence Day), there is a moment of transition. We have to move from feeling the deep despair of remembering the over 22,000 people killed (over 1,200 of them were murdered in terrorist attacks), to being able to celebrate the fact that our State has been here for 60 years.

The State puts on a really beautiful and touching (although perhaps it could have been a little shorter? I wanted to party!) ceremony helping us move emotionally from memorial day to independence day. You can read about it here.

And Israel goes out and parties! I spent last night in downtown Jerusalem where it was one big non-stop party. If you wanted a light show, you had one. If you wanted music, you had that. If you wanted a sing-along of Israeli folk songs (which I did), you had that. And if you wanted to Israeli dance with thousands of other people (which I definitely did!), you had it. There was food, drinks, silly string, balloons, inflatable hammers to bop each other on the head, and lots of general happiness.

Today will be a day of family time, of BBQs, and of celebration. I’m heading up north with some friends for the rest of the holiday weekend. We will celebrate in traditional Israeli style with the grilled (charred?) meat and some hiking along one of Israel’s many beautiful trails.

It started with the ceremonial lowering of our nation’s flag from the flag pole. And then a large torch was lit - from which six smaller ones would be lit, representing the six million Jews murdered by the Nazis. One torch for each million of Jews who were murdered in the Holocaust over sixty years ago. They were lit by survivors of the Holocaust, after a video shared with us their stories of survival and of their dedication to building this state.

The memorial service for the victims and heroes of the Holocaust took place as it does every year, on the eve of Holocaust Remembrance Day, outside of Yad Vashem - Israel’s Holocaust Museum. Tonight, all around the world, Jewish communities are marking this memorial day with ceremonies, worship services, and solemn moments of silence.

The stage stands in front of a sculpture of Jews being marched to their death. All eyes are points downwards except for two pairs. There is an older man, holding a Torah, and looking up towards the Heavens - perhaps wondering where God is and hoping for guidance. And there is a young child whose eyes meet yours, almost pleading with you to answer his unasked question - where were you and why didn’t you save me?

In order to get to the seating area for the ceremony, one has to walk down a path called The Avenue of the Righteous Among The Nations. For a long time, there was a tree for every single non-Jew that the museum knows of, who saved or tried to save even one Jew during the Holocaust. Then they ran out of space.

Let me repeat that. They. Ran. Out. Of. Space.

Yad Vashem is not a small museum. And the grounds that it sits on are very large. Yet, the museum knows of so many people, over 17,000, who risked their lives, freedom, and safety in order rescue even one person, that there is no more room for more trees. On a day of remembering the overwhelming and massive tragedy that befell our people, I exist in awe of those that stood up for what they believed in, and risked their lives so that someone else could live. And they risked their lives so that their own chlidren would know that this world isn’t worth living in, if you can’t love and respect everyone. Their courage is awe-inspiring and impressive.

The juxtaposition of the ceremony taking place between the Avenue of the Righteous Among The Nations and the statue of Jews being marched to their death is a powerful message. Add these symbols to the symbol of today’s date (the same Hebrew date as the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising), and you might begin to understand the extent to which the Holocaust is part of the varied Israeli and Jewish psyches.

Tomorrow morning at 10 am a two-minute siren will go off and the nation of Israel will stand still. We will stand at attention and remember the six million Jews who were lost. We will pay homage to an entire third of the Jewish people who were wiped out. Cars will stop in the middle of the road and people will get out to stand silently. Business transactions will be put on hold. Channel after channel on the television has gone off-air until tomorrow evening. Those that are still broadcasting are producing occasion appropriate programming.

On every visiting dignitary’s itinerary on a visit to Israel, is a trip to Yad Vashem. Every soldier in the army learns why he or she is defending her country, through seminars and programs at the Holocaust memorial museum. Every child named for someone lost in the Holocaust learns the origins of their name and is compelled to live up to the merits of their name. And every touring trip spends time at Yad Vashem. The goal is that there not to be a single person in this country, a single person in this world, that does not know of the atrocities committed by the Nazis.

So it is, for these 24 hours, that every Israeli will remember why we have a state - and will forever need a state. We will acknowledge the sad fact that had Israel existed before the Second World War, we may not have needed to commemorate today. And following the national memorial service on television, we will pray the Kaddish, the prayer for the dead.

The siren. The memorial service. The interruption of radio and television broadcasts. The ceremonies. The closing of restaurants and businesses. The two minutes of silence in the morning. A nation praying together for those it lost. The sudden and complete stopping of daily life when the siren sounds. That is how this people remembers its tragedy.

Israelis have this phrase, “אני לא פראייר” (ani lo fraiyer) - it roughly translates to “I ain’t no sucker!”. And it is more than a phrase, it is literally a way of life.

I was standing in Ben Gurion airport a few weeks ago, waiting semi-patiently to get my passport stamped to leave the country. I was directly behind that “please wait here” line when the man in front of me finished, and the clerk motioned for me to come up to the desk. Faster than a blink of an eye, a woman from two lines over veered in front of me and was up at the desk before I could yell סליחה (excuse me!). She threw her head over her shoulder, looked back at me, and said loudly, “I was here first”. “No, you weren’t”, I replied strongly and confidently. She ignored me, and while her husband and son chastised her afterwards for her rude behavior, she didn’t see anything wrong with it.

I, on the other hand, walked away from that interaction feeling used.

The whole incident probably cost me 30 seconds of my time, and before she had finished fiddling with her bag, I was through security ahead of her. But that still didn’t make me feel any less taken advantage of.

Unfortunately, I think I’ve been infected with the Israeli attitude of not wanting to be seen as a פראייר, a sucker. I actually think this woman in the passport control line is the exception. For the most part, Israelis aren’t out to get each other, just out to get as much for themselves as they can. So while you WILL be pushed out of “line” (ie. the clump that forms at an entrance to anywhere) if you don’t hold your ground, all it takes is a firm but polite assertion of your own rights, and people back down immediately. Its just that if you are a sucker enough to be taken advantage of, its pretty much a given that you will be. In which case, you will have no one to blame but yourself.

And I think that fear of being seen as a sucker has also permeated Israeli society - so much so that I’m convinced that it plays a part in every political and military decision made today. This is not to say that there isn’t a very real and live threat to Israel’s national security - because there is, and until we have peace with all of our neighbors, there always will be. That said, I think there is a (legitimate) fear that we will be taken advantage of on a grand scale. These proposed negotiations with Syria? Talking about opening borders with Gaza? Disengaging from Gaza in the summer of 2005? All are/were ripe with the possibilities of being taken advantage of and used. And with a history like that of the Jewish people (who were continually shuffled around from one kingdom to another, one promise to another) it comes as no surprise that the Israeli people would be overly cautious of being taken for a ride.

Negotiations, by definition, tend to be difficult. Unless you know your partner extremely well, it is hard to know what their true motives are. And many divorces will tell you that their former spouse turned into a different person from the one that they married, when they sat down at the negotiation table to sort out their assets. How much more so for people or countries that you distrust?

The Hebrew term for negotiations is literally translated as “give-and-take”. You can only “give and take” with a partner in whom you have some amount of trust. In order to give, you have to be sure that you aren’t being taken advantage of. And in order to take, you have to be sure you are only taking what is right, and aren’t trying to take advantage of your partner.

If Olmert gives back the Golan Heights, as he has been rumored to be ready to do, and gets nothing (or next to nothing) in return, his constituents will see him as the worlds biggest sucker. In order for something of this nature to be successful, the other side has to give too. We’ve already been through a one-sided “give” with the “take”. Israel evacuated Gaza of all its Jewish settlers. Every last Israeli was taken out and relocated. The promise was that this would lead to peace and security for us, and statehood for the Palestinians. Instead, it has led to a daily barrage of rocket attacks and a Hamas run government. Most people are pretty convinced that Israeli got the raw end of that deal, and aren’t looking forward to a repeat performance any time soon.

Although I will certainly take any kind of peace, in any way that I can get it - I don’t believe that you can create a lasting peace out of fear or trickery. You make peace by working together and trusting each other. You put your פראייר status, so to speak, in the hands of the other party, and know that they will not take you for all you’ve got. Until we can do that, I don’t think either side will be ready and able to make a meaningful peace.

Reading about the Pope’s visit to America, talking with my parents who live in Boston, and hearing about the reactions of the visit on abuse victims, I was struck, and pleasantly surprised, by the holiness of the Pontiff’s visit. The abuse scandals that were first uncovered in Boston a few years ago, rocked the Church and shook people’s faith in God, their community, and the men assigned to lead it. Abuse is most often done in secret, so while its victims’ faith had been shaken long ago, when the atrocities were made public, an entire people had to grapple with a new reality. Their own priests were doing evil and causing irrevocable harm to their children. Everything that parents had once considered a given (that their children were safe at church, that their priest was a God-fearing, people loving man) came tumbling down around them. To say that this caused a crisis of faith is an understatement.

In Judaism, the word for holiness is קדושה, kedusha - and it is a word reserved for God and truly holy moments. We say קידוש, kiddush, the blessing over wine, in order to sanctify ritual moments such as the Passover seder, Shabbat meals, and life cycle events. Marriage is called קדושין, kiddushin, because it is a union of holiness. The Hebrew language is made up of sets of root letters. So you can notice that the letters ק, ד, ש (K, D, Sh) make up the root letters for holiness.

Not subscribing to the Catholic religion, I wasn’t quite as moved by the Pope’s visit as others. But even as an outsider, I sensed an element of קדושה (holiness) in the Pope. People believe in him. They see him as an intermediary between them and God. So when he sat down with the victims of the abuse scandal that rocked the church, many of those now-grown-children saw him as a messenger of God. And in those meetings, they found some element of relief.

In my mind, childhood sexual abuse is the antithesis of קדושה, kedusha. There is little in this world that could be less holy than abuse. And while abuse is always devastating, perhaps having it perpetrated by clergy members made it doubly-traumatizing. Not only were the victims being abused physically, but they were abused spiritually as well. As representatives of God, by abusing children, the priests were not only acting as their own agents, but agents of God as well. In effect, it is not surprising that many of these children grew up to feel that God had abused them. And when God (or a priest) is your abuser, who do you turn to for help?

At my Passover seder, a distant relative asked me what I thought about the abuse scandals. Was there something about the Church that made it more common? Or was he being naive in thinking that it only happened in Christianity, he asked. I told him that I clearly thought that it was a naive opinion to believe that it didn’t happen in other religions. Perhaps the priesthood is more susceptible because of the vow against marriage. Sometimes people who were pre-disposed to not being able to be married (whether they be gay, abuse victims themselves, or otherwise unable to maintain a close relationship with a woman) gravitate towards a profession that praises their choice to not marry. And perhaps if you are choosing priesthood for the wrong reasons, you make un-priest-like choices.

That said, I will in no way try to tell you that it doesn’t happen in other religions too. I can speak more eloquently about the issue in Judaism. But I have no doubt that abuse occurs in Muslim communities, Protestant communities, atheist communities, and as America has recently seen, in Morman communities. It is happening across all political, racial, religious, and national boundaries.

Although I am in no way advocating for a return to the priestly system that the Bible speaks about for Judaism - a piece of me does wish that there was one central figure, commonly regarded as God’s representative, able to offer absolution for all the wrongs that have been done. For all of our children who were abused, for all of their friends and families whose lives have been turned upside down - I wish God could offer His listening ear, His understanding, and His sorrow.

I’m in awe, and a bit jealous, of the amount of relief that the Pope was able to provide for some of the Boston victims that he met with. I know that his mere presence wasn’t a magic cure, and still left some just as jaded as before. But his calming, pastoral presence converted many lapsed Catholics who had been hurt by the church’s lack of attention towards the crisis. And I think he made a bit of a believer out of me as well - he reminded me of God’s presence here on earth, and that God chooses many different venues to make Himself known. And I think that this past week, God chose the Pope as a messenger to bring healing to so many who need it.

There is still one fight brewing...a few weeks ago, an Israeli Court ruled that non-public businesses may continue to sell bread. The Court made a distinction between two different kinds of public domains. So while grocery stores may not sell bread, restaurants may. The ruling has the religious right up in arms! I am equally up in arms - but for the opposite reason!

The ultra-Orthodox are furious - they want Israel to remain a Jewish country, upholding Jewish laws and standards. And perhaps more immediately important, they don’t want to see what they can’t have. Growing up in the States, it was always a struggle to watch my friends bring their pizza/bread/pita/cake/cookies to the lunch table, when I was stuck eating matzah with cream cheese and jelly! So I do sympathize with people who don’t want to walk down their street, in a Jewish neighborhood, in a Jewish state, and be tempted by what they aren’t supposed to be eating.

That said, while we ARE a Jewish state - we also tend to be an Orthodox Jewish state, if not bordering on Haredi (far right wing Orthodoxy). As the tag line for the liberal movements in Israel says, יש יותר מדרך אחד להיות יהודי, there is more than one way to be Jewish. And it is a slogan that not only I believe in, but is well represented in the State of Israel by the large number of non-Orthodox Jews.

Studies have shown that of all the traditions that people may or may not keep, the vast majority of Jews around will attend a Passover family meal, known as a seder. The degree to which the seder appears “traditional” will vary greatly. But if a Jews does nothing else notice-ably Jewish all year long, chances are, they will be celebrating Passover.

When I was a kid, Passover meant not eating bread. That meant I would go into McDonalds (a highly non-kosher restaurant) and order a “hamburger without the bun”. I’d eat my non-kosher meat, cooked in a non-kosher kitchen, and perhaps even put a piece of cheese on it (violating one of the major principles of keeping kosher - mixing milk and meat) - but because it was Passover, I wouldn’t be eating any bread!

While that is no longer how I keep Passover, as I am one of those people who cleans out every last crumb of chametz (grain products) from her home, there are plenty of Jews in Israel and all around the world, who keep the spirit of Passover, if not the letter of the law.

And being the pluralistic person that I am, I believe that they should be allowed to eat what they want. Do I hope they eat bread? No. But if I force them not to, I will not teach them to keep Passover, but I will be teaching them to hate Judaism and the religious establishment.

There are two different siren sounds in Israel. One is a steady, consistent blaring horn that signals everyone to stop what they are doing on יום הזכרון (Memorial Day), get out of their cars, stand at attention, and remember the brave men and women who gave their lives in defense of this country. Today’s siren went in waves, louder, quieter, louder, quieter - like a police siren. It was a very eerie sound, one I hope I never hear again.

The country has been prepping for the drill for a while now, and everyone knew it was coming. So I didn’t see any panic. It went off while I was sitting at the bus stop, waiting for the #24. I looked around me, and realized that if it had been a true emergency, I wouldn’t know where to go! I remembered that somewhere on a stone wall behind me, there was a sign for a מקלט, shelter, and that it had an arrow pointing me towards one. So I could have followed it. Alternatively, I could have scaled the low stone wall in front of the apartment complex across the street, and joined its residents in their shelter.

And then the siren went off, the bus showed up, and I went to school like normal. But I haven’t quite put it out of my mind yet. I know that in theory, the fire drills that I practiced in elementary school in the States could have been needed to be put to use. But more often then not, the fire alarm went off because some teenager was pulling a prank or hoping to get out of a test by sending everyone out of the building. This drill may have been just that, a drill, a practice, and a test. But in reality, the likelihood of needing to put into practice what we have learned is far higher than those fire drills of my childhood.

On a personal note, the noise of the siren was a bit jarring to me. It reminded me of the siren from the ambulance that took my brother to the hospital when he was struck by a car as a kid. I’m nearly positive that it didn’t actually have the same sound - but the message of the noise was the same: get out of the way, we have an emergency!!! And it made me wonder how many other people in the country, at that very moment, were having flashbacks to other life-threatening situations they have experienced. I know that the drill was a necessity, but it pleased me to read CNN’s report which noted that the town of Sderot, which regularly hears these sirens as a sign of real live danger, would not be participating in the “fire drill”.

This entire country is filled with trauma survivors, people with PTSD (post-traumatic stress disorder), and terror victims. I was able to go about my day fairly normally, with this drill only nagging a little in the back of my head. I wonder how many other people were so lucky.

Israeli Arabs have always been exempt from serving in the army, as a humanitarian concession. Israel recognizes that Arabs living in Israel may very well have relatives living a few kilometers away, in other nations - and the State of Israel does not want to force their citizens to fight their brethren. That said, there have always been a sizable number of Israeli Arabs who have volunteered for the army, some even making it up to elite units. The Bedouin people are a strong example of this. Their sons often serve in the elite tracking units, and have been invaluable to their country.

I want to be clear, I am not advocating that Israel start drafting its Arab citizens. I do want to talk about the idea of national service. National Service is often used as an alternative to serving in the army. Volunteers work in schools, elderly home-care, hospitals, community centers, etc. They create youth programs to help keep their kids off the streets. In essence, they can give back to the community that they grew up in, and at the same time, help to develop that community.

This conversation about mandatory national service is not complete without mentioning the other sector of the Israeli population that does not serve in the army. What began as an exemption for a few hundred ultra-Orthodox men to study Torah instead of serving in the army when the State was created, has turned into an almost blanket exemption policy for the ultra-Orthodox. The only caveat is that they need to be “studying Torah” - so they also can not be working and earning a living. This results in the majority of ultra-Orthodox Jews living beneath the poverty line. It is the ultra-Orthodox neighborhoods that are among the poorest, least educated neighborhoods in Israel. These neighborhoods are rife with sexual assault, mobs, gangs, and an active black-market.

I see many similarities between these two populations - both of whom I believe should be required to do a year or two of national service. Both populations are living on welfare provided by the government, often by tax-payers dollars - and neither are paying taxes. Both populations live in poor conditions - and both communities have a lot to gain being served by their youth.

Let’s talk for a minute about the benefits of national service. The benefits to the community seem self-evident. The benefits to the volunteers can be that they gain a sense of pride and accomplishment; they make job connections for their future; they see themselves as adults who can directly impact their society; and they take personal ownership over the welfare of their people. Although I do think a lot can be gained by having cross-cultural, mixed groups of people working together - neither the Israeli Arabs nor the ultra-Orthodox Jews are very interested in mingling with the “other”. And for the first step, I think it is enough that they serve their own communities before branching out and serving others.

A man far more brilliant than I, once wrote that men who fight together in the army will never fight each other on the street. Israel’s army brings together people from a wide variety of backgrounds - right, left, secular, religious, socialist, capitalist, Israeli born, Russian born, Ethiopian born, etc. No matter how different your political or religious views are from one another, the army forces you to put a face to the label. And once you have a face to that label, you may disagree but you won’t be violent against them.

It seems to me that if we have a hope for peace (Israeli Jews and Arabs) and if we have a hope of maintaining one state that respects one another (the ultra-Orthodox and everyone else), we need to create an experience that integrates the ultra-Orthodox, the Israeli Arabs and everyone else together - in a way that both simulates the army bonding experience and at the same time, does not force people to fight when they don’t want to. A mandatory National Service program seems like a win-win solution all around.