There are sentences that do not remain in the past but circulate quietly within a society, as if they were waiting for the moment when they will again be heard in their full weight. One of them is pronounced by the paralytic at the Pool of Bethesda, read in these Paschal days in the Orthodox Church: “Master, I have nobody to put me into the pool when the water is stirred up” (John 5:7). It is a simple sentence, almost factual, without revolt, without accusation, and yet it contains an entire world: years of waiting, of watching others move ahead, of being present without truly belonging.

The inhabitants of the State of Israel can appear rough, abrupt, even cutting at times; one speaks of the sabra sharpness, this directness that does not take detours. And yet, in the same movement, there is a gentleness that surfaces unexpectedly, a readiness to help, to carry, to intervene without calculation. A child is often treated as a yeled melech (ילד מלך) – a king’s child – and youths can show a generosity that is disarming.

Still, beneath this density of relations, something paradoxical unfolds: people are rarely alone, yet many feel left to themselves. Seniors, youths, families, soldiers, immigrants – within a society that is intensely connected, almost over-connected, the experience of “I have nobody” can take root in a quiet, almost unspoken way. It is not always visible. It does not always correspond to a measurable absence. It may arise precisely in the midst of presence, when something essential does not pass between persons.

It appears with particular clarity in the presence of those who are disabled, whether from birth, through illness, or as a consequence of war. They are everywhere: in offices, in shops, in the streets, in the ministries. The law protects them, infrastructures have improved, and there is a real respect, especially for those wounded in combat, who continue to live and work among others. They are of all backgrounds. One cannot deny this dignity, nor the effort that has been made.

And yet, something new has entered the landscape, something that is both astonishing and disquieting in its own way. One sees not only wheelchairs, but exoskeletons that allow the paralyzed to stand and walk, artificial limbs that respond almost like living members, faces reconstructed with a precision that seemed unthinkable only a few years ago. There are devices that accompany movement, technologies that attempt to restore not only function but also a form of wholeness.

Psychological first assistance has become almost immediate, widespread, open to all; trauma care, counseling, support networks are available with a rapidity that reflects both necessity and innovation. In some cases, even the possibility of preserving or restoring fertility after severe injury is being explored and implemented. There is, undeniably, a creative urgency, a refusal to abandon the wounded to their condition.

And curiously, this high-tech future unfolds alongside something........

© The Times of Israel (Blogs)