Marciano sat in the café on the shore of Mogador. He gazed at the water and watched the sardine fishermen returning with laden nets. He raised his glass of tea, took a deep sip, and inhaled the scent of mint. What more does a person need in life than to drink hot tea facing the sea? he thought to himself.
Is this where it ends? Is this the greatest aspiration, or is there something beyond this perfect comfort and tranquility? Marciano knew the answer but didn’t want to say it.
Life was good. Mogador is a beautiful city, modern and full of French culture, just the way he likes it. The Jewish community is neither too large nor too small. Everyone knows everyone, but there’s also room for everyone. The Sabbaths are pleasant and filled with prayers and chatting with friends, and the food is excellent. On weekdays they prepare sardines over the fire and hold hillulot according to the holidays. In the evening he sits at the club, they play some cards, drink and laugh. Nothing is missing.
From time to time, rumors would reach him about harassment of Jews and “revenge” for what’s happening in Palestine. It always seemed distant to him. It was always a Jew who lived far away, whom he didn’t know, it was never clear if it really happened, and within his bubble nothing exploded. But he knew it was a bubble, and that this cup of tea too would end one day.
He closed his eyes and imagined something else. He imagined his children growing up in a place that is truly free, surrounded by Jews, building their home and their family in a country that is truly theirs, and raising the generation of grandchildren in a secure atmosphere that no Jew in history has ever experienced. Not guests, not under patronage, and not subject to the mercy of the regime—free Jews without any restrictions or hesitations. Can this come true, is it worth fighting for, or is it better to settle for another cup of tea?
His mind continued to wander. For 2,000 years Jews have dreamed of this moment when they would return to Jerusalem, so who is he to stop the wheel and keep them stuck in Morocco? If David, his firstborn son, wants to take this step, he must support him with all his ability. No matter what difficulties there will be along the way, and there will undoubtedly be some, he must do it.
Just as every father deliberates at length whether to give his son to the mohel, and his heart contracts at the moment of the infant’s cry, so too does he feel his heart pounding as he deliberates over the blessing for the journey. The circumcision happened, and this too will happen, he decides. Here I am, poor in deeds, taking it upon myself to continue the chain and add another stone on the path to Jerusalem.
He will send David to Israel, he will establish a family there and he will have sabra grandchildren. This is what will happen and this is what happened. He never imagined that one day there would even be a street in Israel named after his granddaughter, and that his heart would fill with pride for all that she was and infinite pain for the fact that she is no more. And yet, you chose life and you chose Israel. He finished his cup of tea and looked eastward, imagining that he could already see the mountains of Jerusalem. In his heart, he was already there.
Dedicated to the memory of the beloved Noa Marciano
who was murdered in Hamas captivity
