Seth Mandel
In the news

There is a vast word bank from which many adjectives are drawn to describe life in the State of Israel.

Quiet is not usually one of them.

But quiet, or some degree of it, is what wrapped itself around the country’s citizens like a cloak last week after Prime Minister Ariel Sharon suffered a life-threatening cerebral hemorrhage, from which he is facing a difficult recovery against daunting odds.

While visiting the country during that week, I happened to be at Hadassah Hospital in Jerusalem the day before Sharon was scheduled to have a heart procedure there.

Preparations were being made for the prime minister’s arrival, though no one was prepared for what was about to happen to their leader.

That night, Sharon felt unwell, and his condition deteriorated until he began to lose consciousness and had difficulty breathing. He was taken to Hadassah Hospital, where the hemorrhaging was discovered. He was put under full anesthesia.

The 77-year-old leader has been in a medically induced coma ever since, though his condition has improved slightly, and on Monday doctors began decreasing his dose of sedatives. Yesterday, he was to be taken off all sedatives.

Sharon, who has shown movement in his right side and his left hand, remained in critical condition.

But it was nearly a week before Israelis received any good news about their leader’s health, and during that time a mixture of sadness and hope permeated the atmosphere.

Jerusalem shop owner Avi Nadav told me that Sharon’s charisma is comparable to that of past leaders David Ben-Gurion and Menachem Begin. He said Sharon is a fighter, a commander, and above all, a strong leader.

Usually, the aforementioned word bank provides the public with their means to describe the region as volatile and unpredictable. But last week, as Nadav assured me, unpredictability stayed home, and harmony of action and mind-set showed up in its stead.

“If you see the streets the last four days, they are empty. Everyone is by the TV,” Nadav said.

A Jerusalem woman named Revital agreed.

“I’m looking at the TV every morning, every afternoon and every evening to see what’s going on,” Revital said.

In comparison with many nations of the world, Israel’s 1948 declaration of independent statehood makes it an infant. But the democratic nation has been forced to grow up quickly.

Revital unflinchingly confirmed this.

Though Revital’s voice and demeanor remained shaky throughout most of our conversation, when the subject turned to the future, she quickly displayed the resolve that has become, and maybe always was, second nature to the region’s inhabitants.

“I guess everything will be fine,” she said, and then seemed to suddenly stand a foot taller. “We have to be fine.”

E. Green, just before closing his business for the day, said he did not support Sharon’s new party, Kadima, but firmly supported Sharon as prime minister.

“He’s quite a leader,” Green said, noting that even if Sharon survives, he will not be able to return to office. “To lose a leader is a sad thing.”

A man named Moshe, standing nearby, couldn’t help but join the conversation. He expressed frustration that Sharon didn’t rest more since his Dec. 18 stroke, but admitted that Sharon may have believed so strongly in his quest for peace that his sense of urgency and duty kept him glued to the helm of his ship, determined to guide it through the stormy seas.

The word “coincidence” is scarcely uttered in the country, and so perhaps it was no coincidence that while Jerusalem was, according to the Israel Meteorological Service, experiencing below-average rainfalls, it rained several times that week, the clouds and thick air a tangible reflection of the emotions of the people below.

But the Israeli citizens were not alone in their concern.

According to the Jerusalem Post, more than 1,500 of its readers in more than 40 countries used the paper’s online “talkback” service to send messages of support and prayer over a three-day period.

In this respect, cultural barriers disappeared.

A Muslim-raised American wrote that she was in tears wanting the same peace Sharon dedicated his life to.

A Christian Lebanese man wrote that his church would be praying for Sharon in Antelias, Lebanon, that night.

And Avraham Cykiert, a Holocaust survivor now living in Australia, wrote the following:

“God, you who have kept me alive through the test tube of Lodz Ghetto and Birkenau, please show your same mercy for Ariel Sharon, for his own sake and for the sake of the family of the Jewish people. If he has no time left of his own, give him mine. It may be short, but we need this son of our people more than I am needed.”

Such support has not gone unnoticed by Israelis. David Baker, the country’s senior foreign press coordinator, even took the time to send a message of appreciation to our readers through me. He made it clear to me that from thousands of miles away, the thoughts and prayers of Americans have come through loud and clear, and he was thankful for that.

There is a sign in large white letters set into a hill on the side of the highway in Jerusalem. Though the sign is visible to passing motorists and pedestrians exiting the city, that message now has special meaning for an extraordinary man.

As it became clear that Sharon will be leaving his post as prime minister regardless of the improvements in his condition, it was just as clear that that message, in the hearts and minds of the people of Israel and the citizens of the world, is now directed at Sharon.

The sign, in Hebrew, reads “Tze’eschem L’Shalom.”

Go in peace.

Seth Mandel is a reporter for Greater Media Newspapers.