A Serenity That Was Almost Within Our Grasp Has Been Trampled

“Where I live is safer than Lake Wobegon!” That’s what I always told friends from abroad who were jittery about visiting a place like Israel. “In my town you can walk down the street alone at 3 a.m. and not worry what’s over your shoulder,” I would say. “People lock their doors at night against burglars, not murderers or arsonists.”

In this week’s new reality, I cannot say that any more.

From my top floor window, I glimpse a thin strip of the Mediterranean Sea half a mile away and, rising from a seaside cliff, the minaret of the old Arab mosque called Sidnei Ali. On Fridays, buses from all over Israel pull up, filled with Muslims who attend prayers. Last winter my daughter and I took sketchbooks and drew the beautiful mosque, the palm trees surrounding it and the worshipers on their way inside.

On Monday night, 250 Jewish demonstrators charged up to Sidnei Ali shouting “death to Arabs!” A grenade landed on its balcony, thankfully causing no damage. When the mayor of Herzlia arrived on the scene after midnight to plead with the mob, they shouted invectives at her. Police found a barrel of gasoline; the caretaker’s son discovered a crate of grenades. Police arrived in force, keeping the mob away from the mosque. Arrests were made and finally the mob dispersed. The night after the mob, two policemen and a soldier stood guard beside its doors.

I had passed by the outside of Sidnei Ali countless times on my way down to the most beautiful beach in Herzlia. On Tuesday, I went into the mosque. The imam (priest) had only words of praise for the police protection and for the mayor.

“We have to keep talking,” the imam said. “We cannot throw away the thin threads of friendship that have been sewn.” He plans to hold Friday prayers this week as usual.

The mosque’s caretaker considers the surrounding Jewish neighbors friends; one was inside the mosque drinking coffee with him when the mob arrived. The troublemakers are thought to have come from other, poorer neighborhoods. The mosque sits near an affluent area; the U.S. ambassador lives nearby. On Tuesday, a steady stream of local residents arrived to convey their solidarity.

Jewish people are also stopping by a long-time Arab restaurant on the highway in Herzlia, and not because they are hungry. They drink a tiny cup of sweet dark coffee and shake the owner’s hand. The restaurant is open for business.

But another restaurant nearby is shut, a heavy green tarpaulin covering its doors where a photo of slain Israeli Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin has been displayed for years. At 2 a.m. Monday, unknown arsonists burned down its storage warehouse and the adjacent rented house where the Arab owners live. Luckily the house was empty--the owners had stayed in their home village near Tiberias because of the tensions. A heavy smell of smoke hangs over the corner where the buildings stood; crates of new green lemons that escaped the fire wait for the tahina that was to be prepared.

The overwhelmingly Jewish city of Herzlia is making efforts in its schools, community centers and houses of worship to cool tempers of frustrated youth, the element prone most to violence.

This week’s destruction, until now far away, mirrors all of Israel. Jews are attacked by Arabs, Arabs by Jews. The country feels like a ship springing a thousand leaks at once.

Usually we listen to the morning radio to get the traffic updates. These days, it reports dozens of roads closed as too dangerous to travel--main highways where thousands drive every day to work, to school. The boundaries have suddenly become constricted.

This week, television showed tires burning, gutted vehicles, synagogues and their holy books destroyed by fire. They read out a long list of towns inside the heart of the country where lawless crowds--Jewish and Arab--were amassing. On the highway near my town, a concrete block hurled from an overpass at a car hit the Jewish driver, killing him. The police have ordered new equipment for crowd control.

The dunes outside the mosque at Sidnei Ali are a place where lovers usually go to park. No lovers came there this week.

Nobody I know shares the hatred that targeted Sidnei Ali, but all of us are overwhelmed with uncertainty and a terrible dread that, along with Jewish and Arab holy places, a serenity that was almost within our grasp has been trampled.

Lake Wobegon it isn’t.