O my homeland, my motherland

Three years after that war, Lior Ben Ami reflects on the change that has taken place in Israel and on the love of the homeland that has become toxic. On a journey from Rehovot, through landscapes and nostalgic songs, he wonders how ignorance, mediocrity, and lies have become something to boast about, and how biblical faith serves as fuel for violence and the exclusion of the other. He calls for a return to humanity and love of the land.

Three years after that war, Lior Ben Ami embarks on a reflective journey following a trip from Rehovot. Along the way, nostalgic songs about the Kinneret, Ein Gedi, and the Galilee evoke in him a longing for the love of the homeland as it once was – sweet, innocent, full of wonder at the landscapes. But today, he writes, love for the country has become toxic, expressed in hatred of the other and the need to prove loyalty through force of arms and tongue. He wonders how ignorance, mediocrity, and lies have become something to boast about, and how biblical faith serves as fuel for violence and the exclusion of the other, while elsewhere it is used to evade war and perpetuate inequality. Ben Ami calls for a return to humanity, love of the land, and lost values: education, spirit, humanism. He concludes with a quote from Tchernichovsky's poem, "O my homeland, my motherland," and reminds that even out of disappointment, the land is a land of heart's desire, only because it is his and that of those around him.