mother and child, and thereby changes the nature of the relationship.
For the first time, Hassan speaks to the woman “without the forced humility she was familiar with” (54); for the first time he speaks to her in English, not in broken Hebrew. Even his Arabic—the language he uses when he pacifies the baby—sounds different to the woman, lyrical and fascinating. “She heard Hassan talking softly to the baby in Arabic, like a loving father talking to his child in a caressing voice, the words running together in a pleasant flow, containing a supreme beauty, like the words of a poem in an ancient language, which you don’t understand, but which well up inside you” (53–54).
At this point, it becomes apparent that Hassan is an educated, sensitive, and charming man, and he awakens in the woman warm feelings. When she compares Hassan’s gentle treatment of the baby to the cold, distant attitude of the baby’s father, she clearly prefers the stranger to her husband. Liebrecht does not invest Hassan with stereotypical qualities; he does not represent some charicature of Arab virility, but rather full, rounded humanity. The Jewish male, on the other hand, is presented as someone who has paid a heavy price for occupation and domination; he has lost the ability to maintain a viable, flowing relationship with his wife and baby.
Criticism of Israeli male aggressiveness, which supplanted the sensibility and tenderness that marked Jewish men in the past, features also in “The Road to Cedar City,” another story depicting relations between Jews and Arabs. Due to unforeseen circumstances, two families—one Jewish, one Palestinian—find themselves sharing a ride in a van while vacationing in the United States. The Jewish family consists of an older couple and their son, who is about to be drafted into the army. The Arab family consists of a young couple with their baby boy. At the end of the story, the Jewish woman, Hassida, who identifies with the Arab couple and is fascinated by their baby, decides to separate from her alienating husband and son and continue the trip in the company of her new friends.
The friendship between the two women, the Jewish and the Arab, forms almost without words; it is an affinity born out of their shared concern for the baby’s needs and well-being. The two women collaborate in caring for the baby, while the men squabble and bicker about political and military issues. During the ride, the Arab-Israeli conflict is the main topic of conversation, but the women take no part in it. They cannot tolerate the animosity between the two families and want to put a stop to it. Both women see themselves as entrusted with the task of preserving life, and they derive pleasure from taking care of the helpless baby.
Hassida’s decision to leave her husband and son results from their cruel and derisive treatment of her. The two men make fun of her sentimentality, mock her poor sense of direction, and scoff at her depressions, induced by menopause and by being cut off from her familiar surroundings. The two humiliate her in front of strangers, making her feel like a burden they would gladly be rid of at the first opportunity. In her profound distress, isolated and shunned, she suspects that “they are conspiring to drive her out of her mind, to have her locked up in prison in this strange country so they can be rid of her and go home without her” (125).
The unspoken pact between the husband and the son has changed the relationships in the family. Their newly forged male camaraderie, which replaces the tension that existed between the two when the son was young, turns the mother into an outsider and a victim. The men join forces against her, tormenting her in every possible way. Their callousness leaves her with an overwhelming sense of helplessness, which in turn gives rise to a profound empathy with the Arab minority that feels equally helpless and weak in relation to the Israeli occupier.
It is against this background that the alliance is formed between Hassida and the Arab family, which she now prefers to her own. Though it begins as a pact between the two women, it later expands to include the Palestinian man, because of his warmth and compassion toward his baby. Hassida is touched by the warm aura that envelops the Arab couple when they look at their baby. As she watches them, she feels “a radiance permeating her, as if she had witnessed a rare vision. ‘Of all the sights I have seen in America—cities, waterfalls, wide highways—this is the most beautiful’” (147). Through her loving eyes, the Others are revealed in all their splendor, utterly human and inviting.
THE POWER OF SISTERHOOD
The maternal element is a principal component in the female comradeship that Liebrecht captures so marvelously in her stories. This sisterhood has the power to overcome hostility between Jews and Arabs. It is also capable of bridging the gap that exists in Israeli society between the ruling elite, the Ashkenazic Jews, and the weaker ethnic group, the Sephardic Jews. Nurturing babies and caring for the well-being of children bring together women of different generations, disparate world views, and diametrically opposed religious beliefs. In Liebrecht’s work, women have a special and very important task: they are the guardians of life.
The story “Written in Stone” describes how the power of this kind of sisterhood overcomes differences in age, education, and mentality, and brings together women belonging to different worlds to cooperate for the sake of preserving and perpetuating life. The story centers around the relationship between an older Sephardi woman and her Ashkenazi daughter-in-law, Erella. The death of the son/husband, Shlomi, during reserve duty causes excruciating pain to both women. Erella, whose beloved husband was killed less than three months after their marriage, has difficulty coming to grips with her loss. She refuses to relinquish his place in her life and clings to Shlomi’s mother, hoping that she will acknowledge and accept her. But the bereaved mother demonstrably ignores her daughter-in-law, never granting her a word or a look.
The mother’s thundering silence is explained by the loud accusations hurled at the young widow by the older female members of the family. According to them, Erella is to blame for Shlomi’s death. This unreasonable accusation stems from an identification of Erella with the ruling establishment. It was the establishment that tore the boy away from his village and from his family, sending him to study in town in a program for gifted students. It was the promise of higher education and social advancement, the women believe, that cost the young man his life. While studying at the university, Shlomi met the Ashkenazi girl, and by marrying her, only deepened his estrangement from his family and ethnic group. Sharing his life with Erella, Shlomi no longer observed the religious commandments, and that was the reason why he was killed.19
The hostility the family shows toward Erella does not lessen over the years. There is nothing the young woman can do to change their attitude. They are not even placated by her loyalty to Shlomi’s memory, symbolized by the fact that she never removes the wedding ring he gave her. Even the fact that she faithfully shows up at his mother’s house every year on the anniversary of his death does not soften the hearts of the women of the family. When she remarries and becomes pregnant, the mother asks her to stop coming to her house, but the young woman does not accede to her demand and continues to come, hoping that her suffering will alleviate her guilt and sorrow.20
The turning point in the story comes only years later, when Erella herself has joined the circle of bereaved mothers after the death of her own daughter from her second marriage, who was named Shlomit after the dead Shlomi. The old woman breaks her silence and talks to her daughter-in-law only now, when Erella is married for the third time and pregnant again. This time the old woman is determined to remove the young woman from the circle of death, so that the fetus in her womb may have a chance to live. In order to persuade her, she shows her a love letter that Shlomi wrote to Erella, returned to her by the army authorities with his belongings after he was killed. The reason she gives for never forwarding the letter explains the motive behind her cold attitude toward her daughter-in-law. “A mother, her son dies—she dies. A wife, her husband dies—she lives” (115).
Erella is shocked by this explanation, which sheds new light on the troubled relations between them. She is astounded by a new realization: “All these years you wanted to protect me” (117). The old woman’s attempts to keep her away from the family, from the house of mourning, suddenly assume a new significance.
