31 Plow and Mortar

On my way to the moshava center I cross an orchard, walk on unpaved ground between the orange trees next to the guavas, and before the "dove square", opposite "Yad La'banim" (soldiers memorial) I pass "Beith Harishonim" (pioneer's house). Years ago a plow and mortar were placed in front of it, close to each other so as to constitute a sort of statue. In the young country's heroic years this was a symbol that could be seen everywhere, Like in the song about Trumpeldor: "all day with my plow and at night with my rifle in my hand" and so on. There is hardly a settlement that doesn't have a statue like this from that period – a statue that symbolizes the Zionist dream of conquering the land in both of these ways. Now those monuments seem naïve and tasteless. Their obvious symbolism renders all artistic expression superfluous. Their very existence in settlements centers next to public buildings, gives them their meaning. The plow and the mortar (or the rifle or the tank): the agricultural labor of a people that returned to work the land, and the weapons of war that defend the existence of the new Hebrew entity.

Today one's eye is drawn to the material which these monuments were made of, to the iron itself. I come so close to the plow that it hides the weapon, and then I observe the rusty iron. What does it tell me? Up close it is like a remnant of a previous civilization whose secret it is difficult to fathom. The iron, which is decomposing and crumbling away, is remarkably beautiful.

In order to appreciate it fully, I'll have to get even closer. And then even the plow will disappear and all that remains will be the disintegrating wheel and the pole on its axis.