Itzhak Rabin
"He was us" / Jonathan Geffen
November 5th 1995
Rabin was the first prime minister that was one of us. Finally, one that resembles us.
And that was our dream for generations: to be goverened by one of us. He resembled us in
courage and in fear. In fighting as a way of life, which changed into true peace making,
almost obssesively.
He was first of all a man, flesh and blood, with advantages and disadvantages. His words
weren't taken from the bible, nor from a hot tape. No, my friends, Itzhak Rabin spoke in
the language of the people, which is the language of the body, of the mother, of the
ocean. Of the children that were born here. Of the children that died here.
Rabin was us. People who were born in a country flowing with milk, but eating its
inhabitants. Rabin was the first leader who didn't quote a vision, but talked like you
and me. He was you and me, so when he was murdered, something in you died, something in
me was murdered.
What's left now is the scream. Yes, I know it's not the time, but I'm afraid until the
time would come, we would be murdered again. Someone has to say it: each and every one
who wrote "Rabin is a traitor" on a phone-booth, "Rabin = Hamas" on public signs, or
"Itzhak Gebels" in "Our Israel" (the paper of the American-Israelies), each one who
publically or secretly droped the poisen - killed the leader, and the cause of death:
an overdose of pure hatered. one hundred percent preaching for murder. Yes, now it's
not the time, I know, but some day, I hope, all of them will be listed, and will pay
the price, or at least go to hell.
Yes, I know, you don't have to tell me: it's not the time, it's nationally wrong, it's
legally wrong, to say who was the mind behind this blood. But maybe I'll say it,
queitly: there were political persons in the right wing that gave permission to murder.
There, I've said it. Now I can mourn queitly.
Again the evil forces, sent by fear, killed a man like us. Itzhak Rabin was the first
prime minister that was one of us. He was murdered, and a part of us was murdered. So
remembering him is remembering us and never giving up our dreams. G-d bless his memory.
And another small thing, that because we resembled him we never told him: we loved that
man. We loved you. You, Itzhak.