My Israeli Friends and Comrades from the IDF (Israeli Defense Force) posted this on our WhatsApp group page yesterday.
It describes how we feel about the “Enemy Within,” the Anti-Zionist Ultra-Orthodox Jews destroying the state of Israel.
To my non-Jewish friends, Tisha B’Av is a “Day of Mourning,” the day the First and Second Temples in Jerusalem were destroyed.

Without Tears
My treasure of tears was getting depleted over the years in the circumstances of my life.
He does not have many tears left.
Now, I’m sorry for every tear.

On the upcoming Tisha B’Av, I might think of a simple and decent Jew who lived in the days of the Temple, the first or second, when he saw it destroyed.
I picture him in my mind’s eye sitting and crying. I may find a tear of compassion and identification with him in the corner of my eye.
But I have no unnecessary tears.

I have no tears at the sight of a delusional, violent, and evil Jew who dreams of destroying the Dome of the Rock Mosque. He is not my brother, not even remotely close.

I have no tears for seeing a Jew who seems innocent but devotes his life to cultivating the repulsive dream of the sanctified slaughterhouse. Rambam had already erased from my heart any interest in this wretched dream when he explained how the unnecessary idea of ​​the victims was born.

I have no tears at the sight of a racist Jew who has no respect for anyone who is not a Jew or any Jew who is not like him. Now he lies on the floor, in a mock gesture of mourning, and fills his mouth with lamentations that he does not understand most of the words in, and at the same time, he did not stop pitying and blaspheming me and everyone like me.

I have no tears at the sight of a Jew who, throughout the days, has not stopped spreading words of hatred against so many of us, and today, on Tisha B’Av, so to speak, in mourning, he fills his unclean mouth with empty words about “gratuitous hatred,” pretending that we are brothers.

I don’t have racist brothers whose lives are full of hatred of the stranger and replete with the persecution of the different. Don’t let them call me “brother,” don’t let them ring in my ears their fake slogan “We are brotherly people.”

I despise them; I loathe their world; I don’t want to be in their mothers’ company.

I have only four words to say to them: “Get away from me”!