(Reflections on Erev Yom Ha’atzma’ut)

A couple of weeks ago, on doctor’s orders I went to the medical clinic for a blood test. In Israel’s nationalized health system, the routine is regular as clockwork. You punch your ID number into a machine, which spits out a slip of paper with your number in line. Then you sit down and wait until that number shows up on a TV monitor overhead and a voice, via intercom, summons you to a cubicle.

That morning, I was greeted by a friendly hijab-clad medical technician. Not surprising since Israel’s Arab population, predominantly Muslim, figures prominently in the medical field.1 At her request, I presented my plastic medical card, and she arranged the equipment for my test.

I mentioned my weak spot: Being scared of the pain and blood, I’d have to look away. She smiled and then, very gently and proficiently, pricked me with a needle (I felt a slight twinge but managed not to faint), took my blood, and applied a bandage to the tiny wound. The procedure was over in no time, leaving just a small red bruise, which would gradually fade. I was grateful for the young woman’s kindness and professionalism.

By contrast, Israel’s Arab neighbors have been at war with us for well over a century. Some eventually opted for peace; the majority remain hostile. On October 7, 2023 people across the Muslim world – Palestinians foremost – jubilantly celebrated the mass slaughter of Israeli Jews. Most........

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