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Opening Up Jewish Eyes
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By Judy Andreas 9-30-5
My position is not an enviable one. I am a daughter of Jewish parents who grew up with a conventional set of beliefs. Although I never had the "chosen people" nonsense fed to me, I was conditioned by certain factors in my childhood. My Jewish education was paltry at best, perhaps because my sister and I preferred to "sleep in" rather then to attend Sunday school. And yet, I was given the usual "there's an anti Semite under every rock" warning. I had a meal of fear and paranoia served up with my weekly brisket. My mother once told me about a woman in the family who had married an Italian fellow. "Every time they fought, he called her a kike." I don't know whether or not it was a true story. I don't know if it was merely my mother's way of keeping my leash attached to her so that I would not stray from the clan. After all, she had been tormented as a child and called a "Christ Killer." I suspect that, on one level, she was motivated by motherly love. And yet, I believe it was her "fear" which played a more significant role. Unfortunately for Mom, "fear" was not a teacher whose class I willingly attended, and as I grew older, forbidden fruit developed a sweet fragrance. As my sister and I aged, our rebellious natures emerged. We experimented with psychedelics and dated all types of people. I do not believe it was a personal vendetta against my parents. I do not believe it was an "I'll show you" statement. It was, I believe, intellectual curiosity and a need to make my own mistakes that accompanied me along my journey; and mistakes I made - although I prefer to call them "learning experiences." In the words of Frank Sinatra (or Paul Anka) "I did it my way." Religion, parental warnings, government statements and rules were not blindly accepted. They had to make sense to me, and they rarely did. I grimaced when some authority figure told me, "It's true because I say it's true." My mother was a Zionist who, as she grew older, used her coloratura soprano voice to sing at fund raisers. She claimed to be an atheist. My father had been raised in an orthodox family and opted to become a doctor because he had witnessed the excruciating death of his mother from esophageal cancer when he was but a young boy He was truly motivated by the desire to help. Dad was an old fashioned doctor who made housecalls but never made a great deal of money. Those who have read my essays know the details of my past. Since my purpose is not to bore you to tears, I will resist the urge to describe my upbringing in great detail. Although I was raised on the usual Jewish diet of paranoia, I found myself extending my circle of friends to all colors and belief systems. It was the time of the sixties, and since I was a Greenwich Village hippie, race and religion were never factors in my friendships. As Martin Luther King said, "It was the content of ones character" that attracted me. In those days, I was not a political animal though I listened attentively as my parents and older sister discussed politics. When JFK, RFK, MLK and Malcolm X were assassinated, I tried to silence the "still small voice" within me. I began a foray into the world of spirituality and clung to my innocence. However, like a withering branch, it was destined to snap. And, snap it did. I found myself in an upside down world in which such horrors as Waco, the Mena Arkansas drug drops, and the OKC bombing awakened me from my somnolence. Though I concentrated on spirituality I could no longer silence my inner voice. Something was deadly wrong on Planet Earth. I knew that all my meditation and acts of kindness were not enough. As an inhabitant of three dimensional reality, I had to find a balance between the mountain top and the valley. And, though many years have passed, I still strive hungrily for that balance. Maybe I always will. On September 11, 2001, my little world was knocked off its axis. I quickly found myself among a group of 911 truth seekers who could not accept the government's official fiction of Arab highjackers with boxcutters flying planes into the World Trade Center. A new chapter of my life had begun. I wanted to share my beliefs with friends. I recall the first time I spoke about David Icke to a churchgoing woman with whom I'd taught. "But he's a Nazi" she warned me as she sent me a disinformation website. "Have you ever read his writings or seen him speak? I inquired. "NO." Case closed. I realized that my newfound information was not going to be easily accepted. Next came my reeducation about the country of Israel. I was dismayed to learn that it was not the "lone democracy in the Middle East" anymore than Lee Harvey Oswald was the "lone gunman." who assassinated John F Kennedy. I was shocked to see the myth of " A people without a land ...and a land without people" smashed before my eyes. I was horrified to learn that Israel was a racist, apartheid state. I was heartbroken as I read about the massacres and systematic elimination of the Palestinian people, and the twisted fiction that the history books had placed in front of our eyes and between our ears. I saw the myth about how Israel had taken desert land that had been occupied by a nomadic group of savages and turned it into a productive fertile oasis explode before me. Once again the history books had become a fiction of the most devastating distortion proportions. I read Ralph Schoenman's book The Hidden History of Zionism and listened to Ralph and his wife Mya Shone's radio show "Taking Aim." The Israelis had seized the Palestinian people's citrus groves, olive trees, rock quarries and homes. They had brutalized the peoples of that area. They had eradicated farmers, artisans and town dwellers and substituted a work force composed of a settler population. The history of Palestine was one of unspeakable suffering and subjugation, armed displacement, massacre and expulsion. Through Ralph Schoenman, I learned that Rabbi Fishman had presented a map to the UN's select committee on Palestine based on Theodore Herzel's diaries. It declared Eretz Israel stretched from the brook of Egypt to the Euphrates, including all of Palestine, all of Transjordan, Egypt up to the Nile including Cairo, 2/3 of Syria, 40% of Iraq, the southern tier of Turkey, up to and encapsulating Kuwait. The Zionists were awarded 55% of the most fertile land. Every major Zionist spokesman talked about eliminating the Palestinians. It was no secret, though an uncanny amount of people today do not seem to know about it. The Kermit report stated "We will use terror, assassination, intimidation, land confiscation, and cutting off all social services to rid Galilee of its Arab population." Moise Dayan talked about how the geography books were changed. Records of the villages and towns no longer exist. It was through the Hidden History of Zionism that I first learned about the Nazi/Zionist collaboration and how the ordinary Jew had been duped by an unconscionable cabal of greed and power. Sadly, I might add, the rank and file Jew is still being duped. I have tried, with my verbal velvet gloves, to speak with friends about this dire situation. Some are not interested. Some are afraid. Some think I have lost my mind. Most silence me. (My compliments to the brainwashers) And so, I sit in a most unenviable position. I want to open the eyes of my brothers and sisters. I want to help my children learn of the sins of Israel and the important role it plays in the axis of evil....along with the U.S. and Great Britain. I want to alert my loved ones to the dangers of the Zionist behavior and how it is affecting our world. I want to wake up the ordinary Jewish person to the crimes that their leaders have perpetrated and continue to perpetrate. For, at the end of the day, the rank and file Jew is as expendable in the Zionists' grand scheme as the rest of the populace is. There is no safety in tribal banding together. It is only the truth which can set us free. And yet, I have not found the vocabulary. Should I give up? Can I make a difference or am I merely trying to hold back a boulder? The other night I watched a television special about Bob Dylan. I was struck by his youth and the profundity of his words. I felt myself drowning in a sea of nostalgia. Were those times as pure as they appeared? Were those times as idealistic as I remembered? Have I romanticized the hopes and dreams of the 60's? Perhaps........... but I doubt it. Of course we were dreamers, but we were dreaming of a wonderful world. We were dreaming of a world upon which we felt we could have a great impact. We believed in our dream. Do we still have vestiges of that dream as 300,000 people demonstrated in Washington, DC on September 24th, 2005? And yet, as I look out on a world so precariously close to the edge, a world that appears to be hanging onto that withered branch that I know all too well, I can only ask "What in God's name has happened to us? " Copyright 2005 Judy Andreas JUDE10901@AOL.com
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