On Jewish holidays, we're used-to identifying as the resourceful downtrodden that manage to bring an empire to its knees. This year, as our gazillion-dollar army takes on masked Palestinian teens, we find our role reversed.

The High Holy Days are upon us, and among the many benefits of this special time of year – the food, the family, the pleasant breeze, the spiritual introspection – there's that unmistakable feeling of being persecuted. Not personally, but persecuted as an idea – we wish death to our enemies on Rosh Hashanah, fast for our souls on Yom Kippur, and metaphorically flee from our enemies on Sukkot.

This tradition of being persecuted, not just because Jews were often and are often persecuted, but because of the inclusion of persecution into our spiritual DNA, finds its physical manifestation from generation to generation. Once upon a time it was Amalek and Haman, then it was Hitler (with a dash of good-ole-fashioned spontaneous pogroms), and, most recently, it was Iran. Well, the specter of Iran. Well, what we were told was the specter of Iran. Whichever.

This year, unfortunately, it seems that the bounty in the persecution pool is a bit on the scarce side. While Israeli officials are quite adamant that the newly signed agreement between Iran and the West doesn't rid us of the Iranian menace, I think everyone agrees a certain sense of urgency has escaped the issue. The best indication of that is the fact that Israel's number one source for everything Iran, Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, is quieter on the subject than he's been in quite some time.
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