In the recent Israeli film Maktub, two hardened criminals, after narrowly surviving a suicide bombing, decide to make their lives worthwhile by helping others. To accomplish this, they sneak notes from the Western Wall and then set out to fulfill the wishes of their prayerful authors. Liel Leibovitz, comparing the movie with both It’s a Wonderful Life and Quentin Tarantino’s Pulp Fiction, writes in his review:

[T]he movie’s real pleasures lie beyond its sweet plot and exuberant spirit. As soon as [the two protagonists], Chuma and Steve, embark on their cherubic undertaking, they come across a thicket of theological complications. Does God truly help those who help themselves? Were the rabbis right when they taught that nothing could withstand the force of our will? Or are some things simply beyond our control, the best of intentions be damned? Helping a nebbishy accountant get a raise is one thing—all it takes is dangling his meaty boss out a window and presto!—but how to help a woman unable to conceive? And how do two vigorous men accustomed to getting their way—or else—come to terms with those intractable things they haven’t the power to change?

These are not only the questions that trouble kindhearted thugs. They bedevil parents, too, eager to protect their children and yet mindful that none of us can shield our loved ones from the rain that inevitably falls down on every life. Chuma and Steve learn that lesson the hard way: emulating the Heavenly Father by making wishes come true is one thing, but being earthly dads to real children is a task of a very different order. And when real children appear on the scene—including a sweet and soulful boy who may or may not be Steve’s—the two are forced to go where no [Quentin] Tarantino character has gone before: into the parental realm of deep bonds and emotional commitment. . . .

Steve and Chuma’s real challenge. . . isn’t just to make a few wishes come true or even to learn how to be better men and better fathers. It’s to understand that most profound and baffling of all rabbinic exhortations: everything is foreordained, and permission is given. It means, as the two lovable mobsters learn, that the divine plan is good and great, but it’s not much use to you unless you believe it and act on it.

Two extraordinary events demonstrate something important about Israel’s most fervent adversaries. One was a speech given at something called The People’s Forum (funded generously by Goldman Sachs), which stated, “When the state of Israel is finally destroyed and erased from history, that will be the single most important blow we can give to destroying capitalism and imperialism.”

The suggestion that this tiny state is the linchpin of a global, centuries-old phenomenon like capitalism goes well beyond anything resembling rational criticism. Even if Israel were guilty of genocide, apartheid, and oppression—which of course it is not—it would not follow that its destruction would help end capitalism or imperialism.

The other was an anti-Israel protest that took place in front of New York City’s Memorial Sloan Kettering Cancer Center, deemed “complicit” in Israel’s evils. At organizers’ urging, participants shouted their slogans at kids in the cancer ward, who were watching from the windows. Given Hamas’s indifference toward the lives of Gazan children, such callousness toward non-Palestinian children from Hamas’s Western allies shouldn’t be surprising. The protest—like the abovementioned speech—deliberately conveyed the message that Israel is the ultimate evil and its destruction the ultimate good, cancer patients be damned.

The fact that Israel’s adversaries are almost comically perverse does not mean that they can be dismissed. If its allies fail to understand the obsessive and irrational hatred that it faces, they cannot effectively help it defend itself.