The Defense Minister surveyed the twenty bearded faces in the caravan, smiled, and spoke straight to the point, like a general barking out orders to troops. The settlers all listened respectfully. After all, they were his soldiers too. They all served in the army and fought in their country’s wars. To the settlers, the army was holy, a guardian of the Jewish people like the Torah itself.
“Meir has to turn himself in,” the Defense Minister explained. “Only for questioning. Not to arrest him. Only to quiet the crowd outside and the brewing political storm.”
“Question him here,” Cohen insisted.
The Defense Minister smiled. He and Caleb were friends. Many times before they had come face-to-face, and a mutual respect had developed between them.
“I don’t need to question him, Caleb,” the Defense Minister said. “I just want it to look like we’re doing something. Riots have broken out in East Jerusalem and two Arabs were killed. There are television cameras outside from all over the world.”
“I’ll go with him,” Meir said, not wanting to be the cause of an international crisis. Not because he was afraid of the rioting Arabs outside. Rather, he didn’t want the world to see Jews fighting Jews. And he knew that if he didn’t go peacefully, the army would have to take him and the caravan of settlers by force.
“It’s not your decision,” Cohen said. “Today it’s you; tomorrow, it will be someone else. This is directed against all of us.”
The vote which was taken resulted in a deadlock. Cohen glanced at the rabbi sitting in silence in the back of the room. Ultimately, they would agree to do what the Torah demanded.
“Meir is right,” the scholar said. “It is better for Meir to go through the formality of questioning than to parade Israel’s internal disputes before the gentile world.”
While a nervous Sarah looked on, Meir walked outside with the Defense Minister. A press conference was convened on the spot. The smell of tear gas was suffocating. The Defense Minister coughed when he spoke.
“We are taking the suspect in for routine questioning,” he said. “As to the legality of Jewish settlement in the area, an investigation is being conducted to determine if Shoshana is in line with stated government policy.”
Meir was whisked away into the helicopter, up over his caravan and garden, up over the hills of Hevron, away from his teary-eyed wife. He stared out the aircraft’s window at the clear blue-and-white Israeli skies, gazing at the biblical valleys and mountains he loved. They soared into a breathtaking view of Jerusalem as it must have looked to the angels. The helicopter set down by the Knesset, and from there, it was a short drive to the courtyard of the Russian Compound and Jerusalem’s municipal jail.
That night in Hevron, four Jewish families moved into abandoned Casba flats that rich American Jews had purchased from Arabs willing to sell. At the United Nations in New York, the world bloc of Arab, European and third-world countries demanded Israel’s immediate withdrawal from the occupied territories. When Israel’s ambassador took the podium to respond, all but eleven nations walked out. It wasn’t the first time it had happened to him.
“Israel will not give up Jewish territory for any jackass, no matter what language he speaks,” the ambassador quipped to the near-empty hall.
Also that night, while Syrian troops were put on alert 5 kilometers from the Golan Heights border, the frightened Arab blacksmith gave the world-famous jackass a slap on the rump, and the beast hopped out of his shop. An hour later, sometime after midnight, the animal was back home at his feed trough, braying to be fed. The terrified owner awoke from his sleep, put on a robe, and ran outside. Quickly, he herded the jackass into its shed, grabbed a small hand axe, and WHACK, WHACK, he chopped at the creature’s terrified head. The sound of the animal’s bleating echoed from the shed. After six vicious blows, the beast still hadn’t fallen. The perspiring Arab chopped again and again. Finally, the sturdy ass quivered and collapsed into the puddle of blood on the ground. Sweating feverishly, the Arab hacked his beast into pieces, and with the help of his wives, he buried the jackasses appendages and head in the shed.