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Excerpted Inspirations #237

  • Writer: Linda Odhner, with photos by Liz Kufs
    Linda Odhner, with photos by Liz Kufs
  • Jun 29
  • 0 min read
[Dan Hertzl, one of a number of Jewish youngsters building the new state of Israel in 1947, wrestles with his instinct against war.] Ought he to be fighting? He loathed the idea. He couldn’t bear the idea of killing a man. And yet was it his duty to his new country? Desperately Dan realized at last that he needed help. […] The evening after the battle of Ramleh, he knocked on the Hubners’ door and confronted the startled Abba Schlomo with a strained face and anguished eyes. “I have to talk to you, Abba,” he blurted urgently. “I – I just don’t know what to do!” Abba Schlomo regarded him with grave, kind eyes. “Sit down, Dan,” he said. “I’m glad you came. Is it about fighting?” Dan nodded, relieved to have this hurdle over, and presently found himself trying to explain his feelings. “It isn’t that I’m afraid of getting killed,” he finished. “That isn’t the main thing, truly! But to kill someone – that’s murder, Abba Schlomo! I just can’t see it any other way.” Abba Schlomo nodded slowly. “I know how you feel,” he said. “But sometimes peaceful people are forced to fight evil with evil or be destroyed. Where would Israel be right now if we hadn’t resisted?” “Dead,” replied Dan briefly, “or driven into the sea. But, when you fight back – and war is evil – then even if you win, it’s by the strongest evil, isn’t it?” “It seems that way,” admitted Abba Schlomo. “But what about Hitler? Wasn’t he more evil than the Allies?” Dan had thought of this question many times, but he couldn’t seem to express what he felt. If only he were as good at argument as Leo! “It’s like mud,” he said finally. “Even if the good side does win, he’s used mud too, and it sticks to him. He’s not as good as he was. It – it just seems that war hurts whoever does it, inside. It’s a sin against human dignity. It makes us worse than animals.” He stopped, feeling that he had made rather a hash of things, besides sounding prissy. But Abba Schlomo studied him in silence for several moments. “Leaving other people out of it,” he said then, “if you had the choice to kill or be killed, what would you do?” Dan reflected. This was no easy question, for he knew the urge of self-preservation. But there was something else even stronger. “It’s no good to be alive,” he said slowly, “if you live hating yourself for killing someone else.” Abba Schlomo nodded. “I understand,” he said. “You don’t belong in the army, Dan. It isn’t right for you. Don’t change your principles, my boy. Israel will need men like you, especially when the fighting is over.” There was sincere respect in his voice, and Dan felt that a heavy weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Abba Schlomo seemed to understand, for he put a friendly hand on Dan’s shoulder. “It will be hard,” he warned, “being a pacifist in war times. That takes courage. Don’t let it get you down, chaver. You’re a step ahead of humanity, and the world needs your kind to lead the way. And we need you right here, Dan. Shalom.” “Shalom,” said Dan, meaning it with all his heart. He left the room feeling happier than he had for months. Sally Watson, To Build a Land (1957), pp. 208-209

 
 
 

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