Scattered over the ends of the earth through sorrows and tears, horrors and fears, the Jewish people grasped relentlessly for a land, a home, for Zion.
In ghettos imprisoned, underground and overwhelmed, for thousands of years they refused to be silenced. “Merciful Father, deal kindly with Zion and rebuild the walls of Jerusalem,” they pray.
What kept alive this unshakable yearning for a tiny plot of land? How can a desert haunt with nothing but a memory be so loved “till death do us part?” Zionism is no sentimental longing for Eden lost, but a force of will, an unrelenting loyalty to an ancient covenant cut in blood, a divine Ketubah, if you will, guaranteeing the physical and spiritual heritage of Abba Abraham to his children. The People of Israel are married to the Land, and Zionism is the passion of her love affair.
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