My sister Tamar is starring in a production of Lorca's "Yerma". On the surface, this is a play about an infertile woman's decline into insanity. Beneath the surface it portrays the moment in which our pain becomes who we are. Beyond that point we will accept neither condolences nor solutions. We must continue to suffer or we forsake our identity. The implications of this in the Israeli political sphere are boundless.
One replica from the play remains strongly in my mind since last night's performance. Yerma speaks to her husband Juan, trying to convey her plight to him. "I want to drink water," she says, softly and poignantly, "and I have neither glass nor water, I want to climb a mountain and I have no feet."
This line is the apex of the play, the moment of transition from the freedom granted by hope to the prison of ultimate self pity. On one hand is the metaphoric lack of water, but water and a glass can be found somehow. If you have no feet, well, that's a bit different. You're not going to climb that mountain. I want what I lack to always be water, even if I lose my feet. As long as we hope, we're fine.