A Country Worth Living For By Atara Spero

I was born in Cleveland in 1984 and when I was a year-and-a-half old, my family made aliyah. We moved to Ginot Shomron, a settlement in the West Bank. Although people often comment on how dangerous it is to live in the Shomron, I am very happy living here. I never paid much attention to the security situation in Israel, but I have learned that you cannot avoid reality forever.

At most 9-year-old birthday parties, little girls play games and laugh. At my friend's ninth birthday party, we stayed up all night to say tehillim (prayers) for Nachshon Waxman. Nachshon was a 19-year-old soldier kidnapped by terrorists. He was held hostage for several days while the Israeli government tried to arrange his release, but he was subsequently murdered.

In Israel, it is traditional for sixth-graders to organize the annual Purim festival. We had been looking forward to this festival since first grade and we worked very hard on it. When we got to school on the day of the festival, our principal called us into the auditorium. She told us that there had been a horrible pigua (attack) in Jerusalem on Ben Yehuda Street, with many killed and many more wounded. She explained that due to the situation, we would have to be mature and tone down our festival. As an 11-year-old, all I could think about was how unfair this was.

Over the years, I found myself wondering about the same issues over and over again. Kids my age innocently went out to eat with friends and would get blown up in restaurants. Little kids in Hebron were shot at on the way to school. Eighteen-year-old soldiers were killed while protecting our country in Lebanon. Every time I heard another horrible story, I would think: Is this really worth it? Is Israel worth dying for?

I only learned that answer when I realized how much Israel is worth living for. The summer of 2000 I spent at my cousins' house in New Jersey. I was so envious of their lifestyle. They were not afraid to travel on the roads or go to public places. Their brother would not have to serve in the army. I thought they were so lucky. I hoped that one day I would also be able to live so freely in America.

The following September, I went with my school to Poland. We were going to witness the tragedy that befell our nation and to uncover the roots of our Jewish history. That trip to Poland changed me forever. As I walked with my friends along the train tracks leading to Auschwitz with an Israeli flag in my hand, I never felt prouder in my life. The Nazis' goal was to destroy our nation and, where Jews were once marching to their deaths, 60 years later young Jewish girls from Israel were marching - telling the world that we are still here.

When I got on the plane at the end of the trip, for the first time in my life I appreciated what it meant to be going home. Erev Rosh Hashana was a few weeks later. That also was the day this intifada started.

This past school year, we learned about the history of the Jews during the last 100 years. In this class I learned to appreciate the state of Israel, which was built, to a large degree, by the bare hands of teenagers. They came to Palestine from their homes in Europe, leaving their families and bringing nothing but their hopes and their dreams. They dreamed of a country where Jews would not have to hide or be ashamed of who they were. These young people were the original building blocks of our settlements, our cities and our kibbutzim.

Our nation has had a very tough year. My neighbors have lost children and parents. It is too much for us to bear. Every time there is another pigua, we are called into our shul to say tehillim and to ask Hashem to have rachmanut (compassion) on His children. In school, our principal tells us it is important to be strong and to keep living our lives as usual. We try, but it is not easy to go to sleep at night wondering whether you are going to live to get married and have children. It is hard when your brother is in the army and you have no idea how he is doing or when you will see him again. It is hard when you hear about a shooting in Jerusalem and you stop breathing because you know that is where your sister lives.

On Motzei Simchat Torah I wanted to go to the Hakafot Shniot (second Hakafot) in Jerusalem. Although I knew how dangerous it was to travel on our roads at night, it was very important for me to be there.

As soon as I got to Jerusalem, I knew I would not regret the trip. Thousands of Jews of all kinds were dancing with Israeli flags in their hands and with joy and hope in their hearts. A stranger observing us would never guess that our country was in the midst of a war.

I think that during those moments, even we forgot the war. At the end of the last Hakafa, thousands of different voices joined together to sing "Ani Ma'amin ... I believe with a perfect faith." Fortunately, Hashem has given us so much strength. It is this strength that has helped us survive throughout the generations. And it is this same strength that keeps us going today.

Now, when people ask me if Israel is worth dying for, my answer is wholeheartedly, "yes." But mostly, I answer that "Israel is worth living for."