Eviction of the Forefathers from Hebron

Hebron-Past, Present and Forever
by David Wilder
Eviction of the Forefathers from Hebron
November 1, 1995

Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin, after making a special
whirlwind trip to Hebron, ordered General Ilan Biran,
Commander of the Central Region, to immediately evict the
Patriarchs and Matriarchs from Hebron. His orders come
on the heels of Arafat’s latest ultimatum.
Here is what happened: One week ago, Arafat called
Rabin on the emergency Red Line and demanded an emergency
meeting. Rabin agreed on the spot. The next morning
they met on the Israel- Azza border. Arafat, pale and
shaking, revealed the results of a secret poll,
predicting that in the scheduled election, he, Arafat,
would receive less than one-third of the Palestinian
vote. According to the poll, almost fifty percent of the
Palestinians asked said that they were going to vote for
Shimon Peres for President of Palestine. According to
secret intelligence information, Peres, realizing that he
will never again be elected Prime Minister of Israel, has
agreed to accept the job of Palestinian President. An
overwhelming clandestine write-in campaign, (including
special classes in “how to write”) has been conducted
over the past month, and the polls revealed the extent of
Peres’ popularity.
Arafat, pounding his gun on the table, foaming at
the mouth, accused Rabin of an Israel-US plot to remove
him from power. Rabin, who has grown increasing fond of
Arafat since the beginning of the peace negotiations, was
sincerely shocked, and, according to very inside sources,
actually got down on his knees and begged Arafat’s
forgiveness. He disavowed all knowledge of the Peres
takeover plan, and promised to do all in his power to
thwart it.
But Arafat wasn’t satisfied with this response.
“Action” he demanded, “immediate action!”
Rabin: “Yassi, What do you want me to do?”
Arafat: “You must do something breathtaking – something
that will make me shine before my people.”
Rabin: “For instance?”
Arafat sat silently, frowning. Then, suddenly his face
brightened. “I’ve got it!, ” and he proceeded to outline
his plan. Rabin, stonefaced, expressed his doubts.
Arafat, pointing his gun at Rabin, screamed: “Do it, or
else you may find me running for the Knesset in a few
months time.”
Shaking his gun at Rabin, he stalked from the room.
Rabin petrified at the thought of Peres becoming
President of Palestine, or of Arafat running for
Knessest, began to cry. “Yes”, he thought finally, “he’s
right. Hebron. It’s time I got to the roots of the
matter.
Entering his car, Rabin ordered his driver: “Take me
to Hebron!” “Hebron” stuttered the chauffeur, “Hebron?”
And away they went. Neglecting to tell anyone where
he was going, Rabin found himself subjected to two
security checks as he entered the Caves of Machpela.
“But I’m Prime Minister,” he growled to soldiers who
searched him bodily when the security buzzer beeped.
“Right, and you’re going to visit Abraham. Tell us about
it,” prompted a soldier. “How did you know – that’s a
State secret,” Rabin hissed.
Once inside, he was forced to use his special Prime
Minister’s Pass to prove that he really is Prime Minister
of Israel. Ordering everyone out of the building,
including the Arabs (who refused to leave until Rabin
showed them the letter he brought from Yassir) Rabin
entered the Yitzhak hall, folded his arms, and called out
three times: “Avraham, Yitzhak, Ya’akov: APPEAR!”
And then it happened. Seemingly out of nowhere,
three old men appeared. One of them, speaking in a
condescending tone opened the dialogue: “How dare you
use my name – such a disgrace. I demand you change your
name immediately – perhaps to Nimrod.” Another old man
yelled out: “And your wife, using my wife’s name – such
an insult. She must change it too. Perhaps Delilah
would be fitting.” The third man, the eldest of them
finally spoke: “Boys, boys, ssh ssh. Give him a chance
to speak his piece – ah, excuse me, peace, ah, nu, what
do you want?”
Rabin shrank back, but finding his voice, spoke
clearly. “The time has finally come to stop all this
nonsense. You don’t know how much trouble you’ve caused.
All of these claims that Hebron is a Jewish city stems
from your claims to this place. Once you’re no longer
here, there is no claim to Hebron. The Jews will stop
coming here in droves, and Hebron will no longer be
called the roots of the Jewish People – a `Jewish city’.
OUT! OUT!”
“But how can you do this to us? We’ve been here so
long? What right do you have?”
“Aha, you think I’m stupid. You think I don’t know
anything? Well, greatgrandpa, you always claimed that
you wanted these caves because you found here the tomb of
the first man – Adam – right? Well, you remember what
happened to him – he got thrown out too. And if He could
throw them out, then why can’t I throw you out too?”
The three old men looked at each other, embarrassed,
no answer on their lips. Rabin grinned a wicked grin.
“Tomorrow, you will leave, together with your wives. And
if there is anyone else here we don’t know about, them
too. You will be presented with an official order,
handed to you in person by General Biran himself,
expelling you from the Caves of Machpela. You will not
be allowed within the city limits of Hebron, so you’d
better find yourselves an alternative site to stay
comfortable for a while.” And with that, Rabin walked
out.
The next day, at exactly 9:00 AM, General Biran
entered the 2,000 year-old structure, order in hand. He
found the Patriarchs and Matriarchs ready, baggage and
all. Handing them the order he said to them, “after me”
and they all marched together outside. General Biran
motioned to a driver, who brought over a jeep. “Where is
your destination,” he asked them poetically? “Thanks,”
they answered, “but no thanks. We haven’t been out for
quite some time. We’ll just stroll around Eretz Yisrael
for a while, if you don’t mind.”
And with that, packages in hand, the three couples
went walking off.


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