June 2003 Chicken Soup With Blood By Rabbi Alvin Kass One of the most exciting events that I experienced during my career in the rabbinate was to meet Prime Minister Golda Meir. It occurred at a dinner in her honor at the Brooklyn Museum, to which I was invited by the then Mayor John Lindsay. I was always struck by the amazing combination she personified of strength and humaneness, power and kindness, or, as William Gibson, author of the play, Golda's Balcony, put it, "chicken soup and blood." Her courage and grit manifested themselves from the time of her decision as a young woman to leave Milwaukee and settle in Palestine, where she joined the kibbutz of Merhavyah. She quickly rose in the ranks of the labor movement, where she was assigned to the most difficult and challenging responsibilities. At no time were her leadership abilities as Prime Minister more severely tested than during the Yom Kippur War of 1973, when Israel was caught off guard. Her colleague Shimon Peres described her demeanor during those tough days as that of a fierce lioness who exuded "inner peace, contagious faith, confidence that no matter how critical the crisis it could be overcome." She did not flinch, if she felt the survival of Israel required it, to arm fighter jets with nuclear weapons. Meir operated from the simple premise that since Israel's Arab neighbors intended for them to die, there was little room for compromise. The secret weapon of the Jewish people was ain b'rerah: no alternative. At the same time, Golda Meir was a woman of profound idealism and overwhelming compassion. She believed strongly in the concept of a Jewish homeland that would be a model to the world of social justice. It was Israel's potentially redemptive role for all humanity that justified the limitless efforts to guarantee her survival. To secure that goal Meir went head-to-head with presidents, prime ministers, and kings. What most strikes us about Golda is her human dimension which could tear down barriers, open hearts, and penetrate into the souls of all who heard her voice. She reminded people, both Jews and non-Jews, that they had a responsibility to their children even as they were indebted to their parents. Who can forget her innumerable appeals to the Arabs to make "not killing" instead of "killing" the cornerstone of their strategy? She made clear that Israel had no desire to "rule over a million Arabs who do not want us to." Golda likewise acknowledged "we shall never forgive the Arabs for forcing us to educate our children to fight them back." At the same time no heart was unmoved by her statement in the Knesset to President Sadat of Egypt: "No mother wants to bring a child into the world fearing that he may fall in battle." It is appropriate to think about Golda Meir as the State of Israel begins the 56th year of its history. She would certainly have made clear to the Palestinians that she would crush all efforts to dismantle the Jewish state by force. However, she would simultaneously have reminded us of our duty to respect Arabs as human beings and to respond to their legitimate aspirations as a people. Golda would without question have admonished Israelis in the strongest possible terms that they dare not demonize their enemies or reach the point where they begin to enjoy killing them. Surely, in spite of all the provocations and frustrations, she would never give up on the effort to establish a modus vivendi whereby Jews and Arabs could live and let live side by side. May Golda's legacy of "chicken soup with blood" live in the minds and hearts of all the world's contemporary defenders of human freedom.