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Noa Resi Hirsch is a 22-year old law student, originally from Pennsylvania. She immigrated to Israel in July 2002, and hopes to resume her law studies in Israel.
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By Noa Resi Hirsch
August 1, 2002
It's July 31, 2002 and I am sitting in my Jerusalem apartment. The time is approximately 2:15 p.m. and I'm waiting for a film crew to show up, to photograph me for a news story. "Young woman moves to Israel all alone," or some other similar fascinating title. They're late.
Yesterday I was about to do an interview with a cable news channel when I got a call. "Sorry, someone just decided to blow himself up in the center of Jerusalem. Interview will have to be moved."
Can't argue with that.
The phone just rang. It was my mother, calling from America to see if I was okay. I wonder why she's calling. And then I put the two together. For the second day in a row, a film crew is late to interview me because some murderer decided to kill innocent students. At lunchtime. In their own cafeteria.
This attack, although I was nowhere near the scene, is extremely disturbing to me. The bombing took place at Hebrew University, in the cafeteria in the law school. Students in the law school are just finishing up their finals. Also in the cafeteria were a large number of overseas students, part of the Rothberg School for Overseas Students at Hebrew University.
I am also a law student, and I hope to finish my education at Hebrew University. I too was once a participant in the Overseas Students program. I've eaten in that cafeteria.
I am reminded of an old Phil Ochs song, "There but for fortune go I."
A thought dawns on me. I have friends in the middle of finals in the law school. Just yesterday a sweet, Australian guy I met at Shabbat lunch called me up. We made plans to have dinner next week. He is a third-year law student at Hebrew University. Do I still have a date for Sunday night?
And so like many Israelis, after we've been attacked, I make the requisite phone calls. To make sure everyone's okay.
But everyone is not okay. At the moment there are 7 dead, over 80 injured. My phone calls went smoothly, and my parents were reassured, but I can think of 87 pairs of parents who are not as relaxed as my mother is right now. Their bright, ambitious children are changed. Some of those smart, talented students won't be taking any more finals, worrying about their grades, or which course to take.
After such an event, as a recent immigrant, I'm always asked if I regret my decision. Would I feel safe back in America? Do I wish I had waited until "things calmed down a bit"?
Not for one minute.
When my people are suffering, and they are suffering badly right now, I am glad that I can suffer with them. The good in this country outweighs the bad. The people of the State of Israel are remarkable, amazing people. In tragedies like today's bombing they pull together. Unfortunately everything has become such a common occurrence that we are always bound together tightly.
As the day moves on names and faces begin to emerge from the victims. I find out that most of those killed were Americans. They were students in the same overseas program in which I studied. Two of the students killed were studying at Pardes, where I plan to start classes next month. One of those students, Ben Blutstein, was a guy I met last Shabbat, in synagogue. He was my good friend Eli's roommate. Ben's from Pennsylvania. So am I.
There, but for the grace of God, go I.
At school today you can distinguish by people's faces those who know victims of the attacks. They look as though they themselves have had the life drained out of them.
We began a new unit today in my 'Ulpan', my language class. "Words From Terrorist Attacks." I learned the Hebrew word for "critically injured". I learned how to say: "triage". I learned how to say "body parts"
This is our reality. We choose this life. And there are so many reasons why. Tonight I had dinner with strangers. A couple who saw an interview I did on television, and tracked me down. They took me into their home, and told me "We're not your friends. We've adopted you. Now you're our family."
I'm going to their wedding in a few weeks. It's a sign that life goes on in Israel. I'm going for Ben Blutstein, who will never dance at his own wedding.
I'm going because in Israel, we dance at every happy occasion we can.
May God bless all of the victims, their families, and the People of Israel.
Views expressed by the author do not
necessarily reflect those of israelinsider.
 
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