“My heart is in the East but I am at the ends of the West”
לבי במזרח ואנוכי בסוף מערב, a quote by the great Rabbi Yehuda Halevi.
It’s taken me a few days to write this entry and it will probably be my last one in regards to my journey through Israel and the West Bank. This summer was something special. It was the toughest one of my life. It was the most amazing. It was insightful. It was enchanting. It was beautiful. And it was emotionally draining. I can’t even describe how many times I cried myself to sleep at night or how many times I woke up at the crack of dawn and listened to the call to prayer from my open window. I can’t explain how much the relationships I developed here have changed my life or how much I love the people I spent this summer with.
When I first started writing this blog, I found it to be tedious, my entries were either too honest or not honest enough. Some entries were boring and written just because I felt like I had to write something. One day everything just fell into place for me, emotionally and spiritually. I realized a lot about myself and what I needed to do in order to leave Jerusalem and be truly fulfilled. Of course I came here to do an internship, I don’t know what the motivations behind me being chosen to participate in this specific fellowship were but I had a job to do here. It took me a long time to realize that in order for me to find some sort of peace within myself I needed to go above and beyond. I needed to think, I needed to write, and I needed to be honest with myself and those around me.
Tears, here, don't soften
The eyes. They only polish
The hardness of faces, like rock.
(“Suicide Attempts of Jerusalem” by Yehuda Amichai)
I have learned something while living in Israel; everything that happens here is taken with a grain of salt. From the recent rocket fire in Eilat, Sderot, and Ashdod to the bloody clashes with the Lebanese army in the north, this is life here. This is normal. The other night at a family barbecue, a big topic of conversation was the weather in Israel. My aunt used to live in a small town up in the mountains of Tal El in the northern part of Israel. She now lives in Caesarea but at the time when she lived in the north she told us how cold it used to get. That conversation led into how dangerous the highways were and that led into her experience during the Second Lebanon War.
She said that she regretted ever turning her bomb shelter into a storage room especially when a rocket crashed through her property. That conversation led to another one about the relationship between Jews and Arabs in her town. She said that when the war broke out the Arabs in the villages surrounding Tal El, threw rocks at Jewish homes and Jewish properties. They ran cars with Israeli plates off the roads. She told us in was hell and that her and her husband ran out of there during the war and spent a few weeks in Tel Aviv in order to avoid the constant threat of rocket fire and Arab hostilities. That anecdote led to others about the relationship between Jews and Arabs in Israel. Stories about my mother’s time living in Akko, my fathers’ time in Lebanon, and many others. But here, those stories aren’t said with emotion or tears. They aren’t told with anger or hatred. Instead they are told “matter of factly”, they are told nonchalantly. These anecdotes, these stories are told as if you were reading them out of a boring history book.
I think this type of experience may be the best kind. It’s all about listening to people, not asking them for their stories but allowing their stories to come to you. I find so many things in this country to be so interesting, the psychology of the people the emotions, these things that are so specific to Israel. A few days ago, we watched the coverage of the border clash with the Lebanese army at my grandparents’ house. In Israel, they will sometimes televise large funerals and that’s something I discussed with Jordan earlier this summer. Why is the nationalism in Israel so unique to Israel and at the same time powerful? Because to every Israeli, a Gilad Shalit is their son, a Dov Harari is their father, and every single military casualty is their own. Jordan felt that this was something that America needed, they needed to see the faces and families of those killed in the name of democracy, in the name of our freedom and in the name of our nation.
Now as we watched parts of the funeral, Dov Harari’s (the Israeli officer killed in the clash with the Lebanese army) 18-year-old daughter eulogized him. She said, “My father will never get to see me put on my uniform, he will never have the privilege of walking me down the isle.” At this point my grandmother began to cry. I realized that in Israel one family’s loss is the nation’s loss as well. It’s heartbreaking to see but it’s even harder to actually feel it, to become so emotionally drawn to a country and a situation that their suffering, their pain, becomes your own.
My journey in Israel came with its enlightening experiences but also with its disappointments. I found myself battling my parent’s perception, I was swimming against the current trying to convince my parents why, I believed I was doing the right thing for myself. Its something that took me a lot of time to understand, I will never be able to satisfy my parents because I am not them. I am my own person, I am my own self and I need to allow myself to disconnect from my need to live up to my parents' beliefs and expectations.
The other day a friend of mine asked me, “what was your favorite adventure this summer?” Hmm… I had to wrack my brain for that one. Sderot? Bethlehem? The Dead Sea? Rosh Hanikra? I don’t know if I have a favorite. The “funnest” trip was without a doubt, my journey to the Dead Sea with Wajida.
I get excited to tell the story but no one ever seems to care! A quick summary of that day was us missing our bus to the Dead Sea and then meeting 2 British people who we decided to categorize as new friends. After we missed our bus, we waited in line for the next one that would be coming 45 minutes later. It was already 10 minutes behind schedule when one of our new friends, Warren looked over at Wajida and began speaking to her in Hebrew. I decided to cut in quickly because Wajida had that confused look on her face that usually shows up every time someone speaks to her in rapid Hebrew. I told Warren, “She doesn’t speak Hebrew,” and his response was the start of a silly friendship. He looked at me with a confused look on his faces and responded, “then what does she speak?” English, obviously.
We finally got onto the bus; Warren and Simon (our new British buddies) had gotten onto a different bus. We met up with them again later when our bus made a rest stop and hour and a half into our bus ride. When we arrived to the Dead Sea we decided to take a short walk to Nahal Ein Bokek (Wadi Bokek). We asked around how to get there and we kept getting different sets of directions. Finally, a security guard at a nearby mini mall told us “Walk straight under the bridge and then just walk 50 meters and you will see Nahal Ein Bokek.”
I think when the security guard said “walk straight under the bridge” he meant climb down a cliff to get to a hot underground pathway. And when he told us to “walk 50 meters” he actually meant walk for 3 hours through a mountain. But we had to learn the hard way. So we climbed down the cliff, with only a bottle of water between the two of us and wearing cheap flip flops we began the hike that was probably the most enjoyable adventure I had in Israel.
After climbing down the cliff to reach the underpass we began to realize that this might not be as easy as the security guard had made it out to be. As we walked we experienced the discomfort of pebbles and stones cutting the bottom of our feet as they became wedged between our feet and our flip-flops. I decided to take off my flip-flops and walk barefoot, you know be super ROTC. Bad idea number 1. We realized we would need to keep our shoes, or lack there of, on during this hike. We kept walking and the more we walked the more difficult our environment became to manage. Tree branches stabbed and scratched my face and arms. Wajida would attempt to climb up the small rapids and waterfalls as we walked up the river and through the mountain. Unfortunately, she fell maybe 15 times and I just learned that I would need to step on different rocks and take a different route in order to not succumb to her fate.
At one point an Israeli jet shot through the sky above us and Wajida, who was in the process of climbing over a rapid, fell back and landed on her butt in the river due to the initial shock from the sound. We were running out of water at this point and it was getting hot (the temperature topped 54 degrees Celsius at the time of our hike) but we weren’t willing to turn back, especially after spending an hour and a half suffering from the rocks cutting the souls of our feet, the branches scratching our faces, and the slips and falls that we had endured. So, we kept walking. We joked on the way about being “ROTC” because we were hiking in flip-flops. We told each other silly stories, and just acted ridiculous. I think a lot of frustration and stress was finally relieved during this hike, we were out in the wilderness, unprepared and having a wonderful time, we needed this.
Finally we see a 10-12 foot waterfall and of course we decide to climb it. This is where bad idea number 2 came into play. Once again I thought it would be a great idea to climb up a waterfall without shoes. Well I didn’t realize that my bare feet and mossy rocks were enemies rather than friends, just like the Israelis and Palestinians I quipped jokingly to Wajy. After some uneasy laughter and nearly slipping off the waterfall I stuck my flip-flops back on and scaled the waterfall with Wajida extending her hand to me at the final leg of the climb. We arrived to a fresh water spring. Exhausted and excited we swam, ran around and rested in the cool water. After a while we decided it was time to head back to the Dead Sea.
I think we had become delirious at this point because we began composing an email to Jordan orally, which he would never receive of course. We completed each other’s sentences and joked about how “ROTC” we were. We had decided not to even buy food that day because we didn’t want to spend any money, which was definitely both Anushka and Jordan’s influence. Here is a short paraphrased excerpt form that epic email:
“Dear Jordan,
We hope you are well and not kidnapped by Hezbollah. We are writing you to inform you of this hike we decided to take today. On this hike we truly embodied ROTC.
We also learned a few important lessons from our journey:
Why wear hiking shoes when you can wear flip-flops?
Why eat when you can starve?
Why be comfortable when you can suffer?
Why be happy when you can be miserable?”
This is truly the ROTC way. And our hike was no doubt ROTC. Finally we reached the end of our journey, about 3 and a half hours later, and we began the trek back to the Dead Sea. Wajida’s first time at the Dead Sea was a great sight to witness. She had been excitedly “Googling” and reading as much as she can about the Dead Sea 3 weeks prior to our trip. Finally she had reached her destination. She floated happily through the salty waters as I sat back and attempted to soak in as much sun as possible. After a while we decided to take ROTC showers, with salty water, no soap, and air dry. We got dressed and headed over to our bus stop and waited for the bus back to Jerusalem. After about an hour of waiting we hopped onto an extremely crowded bus headed to Jerusalem.
At this point our moods seemed to dim. We had to sit on the floor for 2 hours and we began to snap at each other. At first it wasn’t too noticeable because we decided to show our anger in the most Brandeisian way, through passive aggressiveness. Then we outwardly snapped at each other. I think it was mostly out of hunger and exhaustion but in the end we reached our apartment. Food and showers, real showers and real food, I couldn’t have been happier at this point. Looking back at this trip, I recount this story with a grin on my face. It was something I wouldn’t have done with anyone else and anywhere else. It was a hike in flip-flops, it was ROTC, it was a defining moment for a friendship, it was a release, and it was a way to forget the negative and experience the positive. I think that this was probably one of my favorite adventures, and it has also become a memory that I will cherish forever.
A week and a half later we moved out of our Jerusalem apartment. Behind, we left memories, smiles, fights, tears, laughter, but not friendships. Those I decided to take with me. I remember when Anushka moved out, it was a Friday we were all pretty stressed we had guests from Jordan (the country not the ROTC), Olivia and Afshan, and a friend from Brandeis, Faith. I felt tears well up in my eyes as I hugged her goodbye. Its funny how goodbyes work, we have tearful goodbyes before we go off to our summer adventures but we know we will see each other again in the fall, we huge and part as if we wont see each other ever again but I think its different in this case. I know I’ll see Anushka again but it wont be the same, living with someone for 2 months and coming out of it alive and with respect and admiration for the people you lived with its an interesting experience. After saying goodbye to Anushka, Wajida and I were the only ones remaining with 3 house-guests; we knew it would be an interesting weekend.
That weekend was amazing, exciting, life changing, and beautiful. New friendships were forged and experiences were had. While touring through the Old City of Jerusalem with Olivia, Afshan and Faith, Faith and I witnessed something odd. As Wajy, Olivia and Afshan shopped Faith and I watched a religious, completely Hareidi man walk by an Arab owned store. Outside the store stood the Muslim owner, the two looked at each other and all of a sudden embraced. The Arab man played with the Hareidi man’s kids while they briefly chatted, with large grins on their faces. The two men were apparently old friends? This sight was so beautiful, enchanting and unique. It was truly coexistence.
Finally the weekend came to a close, Olivia and Afshan left, I got my ear pierced, and then finally Faith left as well. Now only Wajida and I were left in this beautiful apartment in the German Colony, in a city that we have begun to call home. I think leaving the apartment was the hardest thing for me to have done because I realized that I would be leaving Jerusalem for a very long time. My heart was aching, I just can’t explain it. The hardest thing I have ever done was getting on the Sherut (shared cab) to Tel Aviv and parting from Wajida at the bus station. The last thing I remember seeing before tears hindered my eyesight, was a sign that read “Tsetchem Le Shalom” (Leave in Peace). It’s a lot to think about, hard to talk about and almost impossible to write about.
I left Jerusalem with uneasiness and I hope to leave Israel with Peace. On the eve of my flight back to New York, I wonder how I will muster the strength to leave this country, to leave Israel. But then I remember the promise I made to myself years ago; I promised myself that I would grow old in the country. I promised myself that I would die in this country. I promised myself that I would LIVE in this country. And I promised myself that one-day I would return to my home, to Jerusalem.
Now I wonder to myself what will I do with everything I have experienced, with everything I have learned, with everything I have seen? Only time will tell but I have made another promise to myself, a new promise to myself. The lessons I have learned have come from my journey and not my destination and with these lessons, with this experience I will continue to advocate for peace. I will continue to educate myself on the conflict, and I will continue to love life the way I have learned to love in Jerusalem.
After two and half months living and breathing in Jerusalem, and another week spending time in Israel I have finally and truly felt the words of Yehuda Amichai. Jerusalem is a port city on the shore of my eternity.
Farewell Israel, I leave you with a heavy heart.
Friday, August 6, 2010
Friday, July 23, 2010
“Jerusalem is a port city on the shore of eternity”
A friend of mine showed me this poem the other night, its written by world renowned poet Yehuda Amichai (The Songs of Zion the Beautiful: 21).
Jerusalem’s a place where everyone remembers
He’s forgotten something
But doesn’t remember what it is
And for the sake of remembering
I wear my father’s face over mine
This is the city where my dream containers fill up
Like a diver’s oxygen tanks
Its holiness
Sometimes turns into love.
Since coming to Jerusalem I have found myself immersed in poetry, religion, fear, love, and emotion. From the soldier I met at a bar to the cab driver who drove me to the old city and the store owner who is struggling to make ends meet, I have silently listened to their stories. My time here in Israel, isn’t always emotionally charged and philosophically enlightening it has also been filled with excitement, fun and just crazy moments. I think Jerusalem is the only city I could get proposed to 4 times all by Arab men and offered things like a Mercedes to the biggest house in Bethlehem. Jordan and I also had some pretty interesting experiences especially when he almost got me arrested one Friday night. I also realized I spend most of my time making fun of Wajida but things like that just lighten our moods.
For me the weirdest thing will be when we return to the US and go back to Brandeis. We are no longer politically correct about anything, we became pretty rude because that just happens here in Israel, I fell in love with Indian music, Wajida loves Idan Raichel and picked up a few Hebrew phrases, Anushka will start bargaining for everything she buys from mulch and beans to her Brandeis tuition, and Jordan became way too ROTC for his own good. We have become good friends; we have dealt with ups and downs and emerged as better people and better friends. We’re leaving soon and I’ve just been taking a lot of time looking back at a lot of what we have done here in Israel, our journeys, experiences, mishaps, and basically everything under the sun if there was a way for us to do it no matter how dangerous it sounded we did it.
While talking to another SCB Fellow today, we discussed how even though this summer has flown by so quickly it still feels like ages ago we had landed in Israel. The things we have done here have been jampacked into the span of 2 months but these adventures and experiences we have had are 6 months worth of time here in Israel. Even though we all had a purpose here, which most of us have fulfilled, we stepped out of our box and our comfort zones and pushed ourselves to explore and discover. From waking up at 6am to make our first group excursion to Bethlehem to spending over 3 hours traveling to Sderot and walking through the city in the hot sun we have done all of this on our time off. It makes me think, why there aren’t more people in the world who care enough about others to listen to their stories, to empathize, and to cry for them.
That brings me back to Jerusalem, a city of confusion and holiness but when will that holiness turn into love? Its something I often wonder to myself when I am alone. Its funny because I spend a majority of the year in Waltham, Ma, in an area that is just as quiet and residential as the apartment I live in here in Jerusalem. But in Waltham I am constantly bored, I am always trying to find something to do because just sitting in my room at night seems to be such an unattractive idea. Yet, in Jerusalem I jump at the opportunities to sit alone and just gaze out into the distance. I sometimes find myself envisioning this city’s future in a perfect world. Will it be divided? Will it remain under the governance of the Israeli government? or will it become a city controlled by the international community?
Its peaceful here at night. Its an uneasy peace, an eerie silence, but nevertheless its still peaceful. I always wonder how long that sense of serenity will last.
Prayer is an interesting thing. It brings out emotions, pain, sorrow, it also brings out hope longing, gratitude and love. Today is the fast of the 9th of Av. This fast symbolizes the end of a period of mourning for the destruction of both the First and Second Holy Temples that were destroyed on the same day, just 656 years apart.
Its hard to compose my thoughts at the moment. I had an interfaith encounter Sunday evening in Beit Jala. The topic of this encounter was “The Holiness of Jerusalem in Islam, Judaism and Christianity”. I thoroughly enjoyed this encounter, it was though provoking and at the same time I had a profound emotional connection to the topic and I felt at ease discussing it. Three things truly jumped out to me, one from the Christian perspective, the second from the Muslim perspective and the third from the Jewish perspective.
Jesus said to his Apostles, “You will be my witnesses in Jerusalem and from Jerusalem to Judea and Samaria…” and from Judea and Samaria to the rest of the world. I found it so interesting that Jesus began by saying that they will be G-d’s witnesses from Jerusalem and then to Judea and Samaria and then to the rest of the world. This sheds light on the religious connection Christians must feel and have to Jerusalem, the first of G-d’s witnesses were from there and then they spread to the rest of the world.
The Prophet Muhammad said, whoever desires to have a good pilgrimage must also travel to Jerusalem. In Islam, Jerusalem is a blessed land and it is believed that it is the shortest way between heaven and earth. When someone dies, the souls go first to Jerusalem.
Finally, I presented the Jewish perspective on Jerusalem in this encounter. But on thing that jumped out at me as I researched the Judaic connection to Jerusalem was Psalms 137:5, “If I forget thee, O Jerusalem, let my right hand forget her cunning.” What is Jerusalem for the Jewish faith, it is a city that has been a nucleus of holiness for centuries and it’s a city that should be so important to us that if we forget her its as if we have forgotten how to use our right hand. This, in some way, can explain my connection to Jerusalem. Every time I go to the Western Wall I feel G-d’s presence and every time I walk through this city it feels so very different than any other city I have ever been to. Jerusalem is a home, a home to not only Judaism but to Islam and Christianity.
The encounter as a whole was concluded with a powerful message from Dr. Taleb (as I like to call him). He said, “Our differences should not be a matter that divides us but rather one that unites us in respect for one another.” This got me thinking about what do we do in the name of religion, in the name of a greater good? We cause harm, we hurt others, and we seek our own methods of justice and in order to fulfill our own interpretations of religion.
I had a conversation with my friends Wajida and Noam earlier this evening and we discussed the Temple Mount as well as what a Third temple would mean to the Jewish people. Wajida asked us, “If you visited the Dome of the Rock (where it is believed the Temple once stood) would you be upset?” My immediate reaction was yes I would. But when I delved deeper into my thoughts I realized something, I wouldn’t be upset because there was a holy sight for another religion in place of my Temple, I would be upset because of the reasons my Temple wasn’t there. I would be upset because of the division and animosity between different sects of Judaism, I would be upset because thousands of years ago the Temple was destroyed because of “sinaat chinam” (hatred between fellow Jews) and today that hatred continues to resonate throughout Israel and Jewish communities in the Diaspora. We have brought this upon ourselves as a nation and a religion.
I wear a necklace every day and on the necklace there is an engraving in Hebrew, it read, “Am Echad Belev Echad” (One nation with one heart). When people learn what it says they just smile and say “well that’s so you.” You know, Zionist Shirel just picking out a random quote and engraving it in her necklace, that’s typical. But very few people know why I wear it. I chose this quote and I chose to wear this necklace because I want to remember something, we are one nation. One nation that is divided, a people that continue in the practices that caused for the destruction of the Temple years ago but we have not learned, we have not changed our ways.
I wear this necklace to remind myself that the day we act like one unified nation is the day we will no longer year for peace because we will have it. It’s a day that is in the distant future and I wear this necklace because I pray for that day, the day when the nation of Israel (which includes not just Jews but Muslims, Christians, and every single person that lives in this country) will be a nation of unity rather than constant turmoil. Before peace can be achieved, the people of Israel must find it within themselves to become “Am Echad belev echad”.
As I conclude this blog entry, I realized something, Israel is home to over 8 million people but even though they call this country their home, they rarely feel at home in this country. In Jerusalem I think that is caused by the rising tensions in the city between different people, religions, and political leanings. But to me I feel at home in this country regardless. I have rarely felt uncomfortable, I have rarely felt out of place, because this country has stolen my heart and Jerusalem has inhabited my soul.
Jerusalem’s a place where everyone remembers
He’s forgotten something
But doesn’t remember what it is
And for the sake of remembering
I wear my father’s face over mine
This is the city where my dream containers fill up
Like a diver’s oxygen tanks
Its holiness
Sometimes turns into love.
Since coming to Jerusalem I have found myself immersed in poetry, religion, fear, love, and emotion. From the soldier I met at a bar to the cab driver who drove me to the old city and the store owner who is struggling to make ends meet, I have silently listened to their stories. My time here in Israel, isn’t always emotionally charged and philosophically enlightening it has also been filled with excitement, fun and just crazy moments. I think Jerusalem is the only city I could get proposed to 4 times all by Arab men and offered things like a Mercedes to the biggest house in Bethlehem. Jordan and I also had some pretty interesting experiences especially when he almost got me arrested one Friday night. I also realized I spend most of my time making fun of Wajida but things like that just lighten our moods.
For me the weirdest thing will be when we return to the US and go back to Brandeis. We are no longer politically correct about anything, we became pretty rude because that just happens here in Israel, I fell in love with Indian music, Wajida loves Idan Raichel and picked up a few Hebrew phrases, Anushka will start bargaining for everything she buys from mulch and beans to her Brandeis tuition, and Jordan became way too ROTC for his own good. We have become good friends; we have dealt with ups and downs and emerged as better people and better friends. We’re leaving soon and I’ve just been taking a lot of time looking back at a lot of what we have done here in Israel, our journeys, experiences, mishaps, and basically everything under the sun if there was a way for us to do it no matter how dangerous it sounded we did it.
While talking to another SCB Fellow today, we discussed how even though this summer has flown by so quickly it still feels like ages ago we had landed in Israel. The things we have done here have been jampacked into the span of 2 months but these adventures and experiences we have had are 6 months worth of time here in Israel. Even though we all had a purpose here, which most of us have fulfilled, we stepped out of our box and our comfort zones and pushed ourselves to explore and discover. From waking up at 6am to make our first group excursion to Bethlehem to spending over 3 hours traveling to Sderot and walking through the city in the hot sun we have done all of this on our time off. It makes me think, why there aren’t more people in the world who care enough about others to listen to their stories, to empathize, and to cry for them.
That brings me back to Jerusalem, a city of confusion and holiness but when will that holiness turn into love? Its something I often wonder to myself when I am alone. Its funny because I spend a majority of the year in Waltham, Ma, in an area that is just as quiet and residential as the apartment I live in here in Jerusalem. But in Waltham I am constantly bored, I am always trying to find something to do because just sitting in my room at night seems to be such an unattractive idea. Yet, in Jerusalem I jump at the opportunities to sit alone and just gaze out into the distance. I sometimes find myself envisioning this city’s future in a perfect world. Will it be divided? Will it remain under the governance of the Israeli government? or will it become a city controlled by the international community?
Its peaceful here at night. Its an uneasy peace, an eerie silence, but nevertheless its still peaceful. I always wonder how long that sense of serenity will last.
Prayer is an interesting thing. It brings out emotions, pain, sorrow, it also brings out hope longing, gratitude and love. Today is the fast of the 9th of Av. This fast symbolizes the end of a period of mourning for the destruction of both the First and Second Holy Temples that were destroyed on the same day, just 656 years apart.
Its hard to compose my thoughts at the moment. I had an interfaith encounter Sunday evening in Beit Jala. The topic of this encounter was “The Holiness of Jerusalem in Islam, Judaism and Christianity”. I thoroughly enjoyed this encounter, it was though provoking and at the same time I had a profound emotional connection to the topic and I felt at ease discussing it. Three things truly jumped out to me, one from the Christian perspective, the second from the Muslim perspective and the third from the Jewish perspective.
Jesus said to his Apostles, “You will be my witnesses in Jerusalem and from Jerusalem to Judea and Samaria…” and from Judea and Samaria to the rest of the world. I found it so interesting that Jesus began by saying that they will be G-d’s witnesses from Jerusalem and then to Judea and Samaria and then to the rest of the world. This sheds light on the religious connection Christians must feel and have to Jerusalem, the first of G-d’s witnesses were from there and then they spread to the rest of the world.
The Prophet Muhammad said, whoever desires to have a good pilgrimage must also travel to Jerusalem. In Islam, Jerusalem is a blessed land and it is believed that it is the shortest way between heaven and earth. When someone dies, the souls go first to Jerusalem.
Finally, I presented the Jewish perspective on Jerusalem in this encounter. But on thing that jumped out at me as I researched the Judaic connection to Jerusalem was Psalms 137:5, “If I forget thee, O Jerusalem, let my right hand forget her cunning.” What is Jerusalem for the Jewish faith, it is a city that has been a nucleus of holiness for centuries and it’s a city that should be so important to us that if we forget her its as if we have forgotten how to use our right hand. This, in some way, can explain my connection to Jerusalem. Every time I go to the Western Wall I feel G-d’s presence and every time I walk through this city it feels so very different than any other city I have ever been to. Jerusalem is a home, a home to not only Judaism but to Islam and Christianity.
The encounter as a whole was concluded with a powerful message from Dr. Taleb (as I like to call him). He said, “Our differences should not be a matter that divides us but rather one that unites us in respect for one another.” This got me thinking about what do we do in the name of religion, in the name of a greater good? We cause harm, we hurt others, and we seek our own methods of justice and in order to fulfill our own interpretations of religion.
I had a conversation with my friends Wajida and Noam earlier this evening and we discussed the Temple Mount as well as what a Third temple would mean to the Jewish people. Wajida asked us, “If you visited the Dome of the Rock (where it is believed the Temple once stood) would you be upset?” My immediate reaction was yes I would. But when I delved deeper into my thoughts I realized something, I wouldn’t be upset because there was a holy sight for another religion in place of my Temple, I would be upset because of the reasons my Temple wasn’t there. I would be upset because of the division and animosity between different sects of Judaism, I would be upset because thousands of years ago the Temple was destroyed because of “sinaat chinam” (hatred between fellow Jews) and today that hatred continues to resonate throughout Israel and Jewish communities in the Diaspora. We have brought this upon ourselves as a nation and a religion.
I wear a necklace every day and on the necklace there is an engraving in Hebrew, it read, “Am Echad Belev Echad” (One nation with one heart). When people learn what it says they just smile and say “well that’s so you.” You know, Zionist Shirel just picking out a random quote and engraving it in her necklace, that’s typical. But very few people know why I wear it. I chose this quote and I chose to wear this necklace because I want to remember something, we are one nation. One nation that is divided, a people that continue in the practices that caused for the destruction of the Temple years ago but we have not learned, we have not changed our ways.
I wear this necklace to remind myself that the day we act like one unified nation is the day we will no longer year for peace because we will have it. It’s a day that is in the distant future and I wear this necklace because I pray for that day, the day when the nation of Israel (which includes not just Jews but Muslims, Christians, and every single person that lives in this country) will be a nation of unity rather than constant turmoil. Before peace can be achieved, the people of Israel must find it within themselves to become “Am Echad belev echad”.
As I conclude this blog entry, I realized something, Israel is home to over 8 million people but even though they call this country their home, they rarely feel at home in this country. In Jerusalem I think that is caused by the rising tensions in the city between different people, religions, and political leanings. But to me I feel at home in this country regardless. I have rarely felt uncomfortable, I have rarely felt out of place, because this country has stolen my heart and Jerusalem has inhabited my soul.
Thursday, July 8, 2010
"This too shall pass" - גם זה יעבור
This is a country where fireworks are confused for firefights, bags at a bus stop are confused for bombs, Arabs are confused for terrorists, security is confused for Apartheid, justice is confused for war crimes, and this is a country where the people are just confused. This is something I have come to learn through my travels so far within the State of Israel and the Palestinian Territories. Living in Jerusalem has allowed me access to a place that has become, in my opinion, the heart of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. It’s a city where people, Jewish, Muslim and Christian, are blatantly hateful. I have learned that here in the Middle East, hate does not discriminate, it encompasses all while slowly destroying every and all hopes for peace. But this city is also beautiful, there's something about Jerusalem I just can't explain it. It's a city that has opened my heart and mind and has cleansed my soul. It's a city that makes me think, worry, pray, and contemplate about its future.
As I look out my window into the night I feel an eerie calm. My window overlooks all of Jerusalem and I sometimes find myself staring off into the night trying to make sense of the ominous silence. I take this time to collect my thoughts, especially about my trip to Sderot.
The trip to Sderot was a long one. Jordan, Wajida and I woke up early Monday morning and hopped on a bus bound to Ashkelon. After almost missing our stop we got off the bus, tired, flustered, and sat under the blistering sun. We waited over 45 minutes and finally caught a bus headed to Sderot. When we arrived in Sderot, a city that was once plagued by daily rocket fire, we walked over to a playground. Right next to this playground was a bomb shelter. This is always shocking to see at first but in Sderot, bomb shelters are the norm as well as a necessity for the safety of the residents of this city.
This is when I met Angelina and Ruti. Angelina seemed like the dominant friend as she was the one who approached me. She had piercing blue eyes and blond hair, she was a strikingly beautiful 9 year old. When she saw me she came up to me and asked, “Where are you from?” I answered that I am from America but she told me I was lying because my Hebrew was perfect. I laughed and assured her that I was from New York with my friends Wajida and Jordan. She seemed very unimpressed by Wajida but definitely took a liking to Jordan. I asked her what she does for fun here and her response was haunting, “We used to play in the bomb shelters when the Qassams fell but now we’re allowed to go outside, its so much fun!” She said this with excitement in her eyes and my heart hurt for her, I could only wish to have suffered and endured what she had endured instead of her. She continued to tell me how the city of Sderot gave the people a “gift” by painting all the bomb shelters and building bomb shelters for every house in Sderot.
The bomb shelters were gifts. I still couldn’t wrap my head around that hours later. For a child a gift should be a toy car, a Barbie doll, a bicycle, not a bomb shelter. We all said goodbye to Angelina and Ruti and continued on our way.
Lawrence Kelemen wrote in To Kindle A Soul, "In the facades we put on for others we demonstrate our potential; through our children we reveal our reality." What is this reality that the children of Sderot reveal? That reality is sordid, painful, and filled with anguish.
As we walked through Sderot we began to search for somewhere to get some lunch. We walked to a small store and met Dudu, a kind hearted storeowner with a constant grin on his face. After I met him I kept wondering to myself, what did he have to smile about? This is a question I did not discover the answer to.
He asked us where we were from, we said America, he laughed and asked what had possessed us to come here, to Sderot? I told him we wanted to hear his story. He smiled at me, he looked so tired, so emotionally drained. He told me that Sderot had suffered for so long, his business struggled because people didn’t leave their houses for years. He told me “they have forgotten our suffering”. I asked him “who has forgotten? The Americans? The world?” He sighed and looked at me only to answer, “Am Yisrael (the nation of Israel) has forgotten our suffering, the Americans and the world never knew our suffering, but those who knew it have forgotten it.” I told him, “I have not forgotten.” We parted from Dudu and found ourselves a place to eat.
After lunch we walked over to the Sderot Media Center and met the Director, a man named Noam Bedein. He spent a few minutes talking to us about the situation in Sderot. I consider myself an Israel advocate but I was just completely shocked by most of the statistics he shared with us, much of which I hadn’t known myself. The most moving part of the visit was when he handed us a stack of letters. These letters were from children in Sderot written and addressed to the children of Gaza.
Bellow is a translation of the first letter I read, the letter that brought tears to my eyes and aching to my heart.
“To the children of Gaza Shalom,
I understand your struggles and your hatred towards us. But have you ever wondered if one day we can be friends? If one day we can laugh, play, and forget all that has happened to both of us in the war? I thought to myself that you might not have an answer for that but I wish that one day there will be peace and we can be friends and everything will be ok.
Together lets make a stride for PEACE!”
After reading those letters, Tom who is currently applying to work for the Sderot Media Center, gave us a quick tour. He took us to the police station where hundreds of rockets are on display. On one rocket “to Al-Quds” was written in Arabic, it was meant to hit Jerusalem. This sent chills down my spine. We also learned that over 2,000 children in Sderot UNDER the age of 16 are on medication for Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. I remember, as we walked away from the police station, one of us said something I gurauntee we were all thinking, “I wish I could suffer instead of them.” I realized that I would take these kids’ places in a second. I wish they didn’t have to grow up in bomb shelters, I wish they didn’t have a psychotic episode every time a door slammed or a car alarm went off. But I can’t take their places; instead I can make their voices heard. I can’t advocate, I can remember, and I pray for them and their families.
After spending over 5 hours in Sderot we decided to make our way to the bus stop and head back to Jerusalem. At the bus stop a young man named Lidor asked me for a lighter. We spoke for a few minutes and after hearing Wajida and Jordan speak he realized we are Americans. I think it surprised him, the first thing he asked was why we came here to Sderot? I told him “we came for your story, do you have one?” He laughed and said, “I have too many.” He told my about how he had moved to Ashdod right before the Gaza war because the rockets in the Sderot were becoming unbearable. He said that at least 15 times a day the siren went off, this siren was a 30 second warning that sent people running to bomb shelters. “The sirens woke us up at least 5 or 6 times a night, I started sleeping in the bomb shelter with my younger brother, it was easier that way.”
He began telling us about the Gaza war, he said it was a blessing, it was a blessing to finally sleep through the night and not be awoken by rocket fire. But he also told me that everything happens for a reason, “we endured 8 years of rocket fire but it was for a reason now its quiet, I just pray that it lasts.” A few minutes later he hopped on a bus headed to Ashdod but not before turning to us and wishing us good luck.
After getting on our first bus we arrived at the Ashkelon junction. We got off and began to wait for our second bus that would take us to Jerusalem. That’s where I met Sarit. Sarit was wearing a “Gilad is still alive” shirt, which represents the popular movement in this country to make a deal for the safe return of kidnapped soldier, Gilad Shalit. We spoke for a while about Gilad Shalit and then she asked me where I had been today and I told her Sderot, she was surprised but she wasn’t the first person to be shocked or amazed about 3 Americans heading to Sderot. She told me that she is currently living on a Kibbutz near Abu Gosh and completing a year of community service before she joins the army next year. But before she moved to this Kibbutz she told me how she lived with her family in Ashdod and how before and during the Gaza war the situation had become unbearable. There were rockets everyday, buses didn’t run through those highways because of the constant rocket fire and she practically lived in a bomb shelter for 2 years. “We prayed every day that it would end.” Finally it did. She doesn’t care too much that this might be a temporary lull and that rocket fire will resume, she is just happy that her younger sister doesn’t have to grow up in a bomb shelter.
These people I met, they were strong, insightful and they move me. Their stories touched me, and I can only pray for them. Its hard because as an Israeli citizen I feel selfish living in Jerusalem in a beautiful apartment and walking around with my camera all day while my brothers, my sisters, my nation risks their lives to protect my freedoms.
In my last blog entry I ended off with a few lines from Psalms and I feel it may be fit to do the same here. Give that my internship is religion based and that while in Jerusalem I have found solace in religion I will end off with Psalms 23.
Psalm 23:1-4
The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He makes me to lie down in green pastures; he leads me beside the still waters. He restores my soul; he leads me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for You are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.
I will fear nothing while I am here because G-d gave me the strength to succeed. He gave me the strength to explore, he gave me the strength to learn and that I shall continue to do. I have found so much beauty in religion since I have gotten here that praying to G-d has become calming for me. It is a therapy I use on nights like tonight, when I can’t sleep because I await the storm that follows the calm.
As I look out my window into the night I feel an eerie calm. My window overlooks all of Jerusalem and I sometimes find myself staring off into the night trying to make sense of the ominous silence. I take this time to collect my thoughts, especially about my trip to Sderot.
The trip to Sderot was a long one. Jordan, Wajida and I woke up early Monday morning and hopped on a bus bound to Ashkelon. After almost missing our stop we got off the bus, tired, flustered, and sat under the blistering sun. We waited over 45 minutes and finally caught a bus headed to Sderot. When we arrived in Sderot, a city that was once plagued by daily rocket fire, we walked over to a playground. Right next to this playground was a bomb shelter. This is always shocking to see at first but in Sderot, bomb shelters are the norm as well as a necessity for the safety of the residents of this city.
This is when I met Angelina and Ruti. Angelina seemed like the dominant friend as she was the one who approached me. She had piercing blue eyes and blond hair, she was a strikingly beautiful 9 year old. When she saw me she came up to me and asked, “Where are you from?” I answered that I am from America but she told me I was lying because my Hebrew was perfect. I laughed and assured her that I was from New York with my friends Wajida and Jordan. She seemed very unimpressed by Wajida but definitely took a liking to Jordan. I asked her what she does for fun here and her response was haunting, “We used to play in the bomb shelters when the Qassams fell but now we’re allowed to go outside, its so much fun!” She said this with excitement in her eyes and my heart hurt for her, I could only wish to have suffered and endured what she had endured instead of her. She continued to tell me how the city of Sderot gave the people a “gift” by painting all the bomb shelters and building bomb shelters for every house in Sderot.
The bomb shelters were gifts. I still couldn’t wrap my head around that hours later. For a child a gift should be a toy car, a Barbie doll, a bicycle, not a bomb shelter. We all said goodbye to Angelina and Ruti and continued on our way.
Lawrence Kelemen wrote in To Kindle A Soul, "In the facades we put on for others we demonstrate our potential; through our children we reveal our reality." What is this reality that the children of Sderot reveal? That reality is sordid, painful, and filled with anguish.
As we walked through Sderot we began to search for somewhere to get some lunch. We walked to a small store and met Dudu, a kind hearted storeowner with a constant grin on his face. After I met him I kept wondering to myself, what did he have to smile about? This is a question I did not discover the answer to.
He asked us where we were from, we said America, he laughed and asked what had possessed us to come here, to Sderot? I told him we wanted to hear his story. He smiled at me, he looked so tired, so emotionally drained. He told me that Sderot had suffered for so long, his business struggled because people didn’t leave their houses for years. He told me “they have forgotten our suffering”. I asked him “who has forgotten? The Americans? The world?” He sighed and looked at me only to answer, “Am Yisrael (the nation of Israel) has forgotten our suffering, the Americans and the world never knew our suffering, but those who knew it have forgotten it.” I told him, “I have not forgotten.” We parted from Dudu and found ourselves a place to eat.
After lunch we walked over to the Sderot Media Center and met the Director, a man named Noam Bedein. He spent a few minutes talking to us about the situation in Sderot. I consider myself an Israel advocate but I was just completely shocked by most of the statistics he shared with us, much of which I hadn’t known myself. The most moving part of the visit was when he handed us a stack of letters. These letters were from children in Sderot written and addressed to the children of Gaza.
Bellow is a translation of the first letter I read, the letter that brought tears to my eyes and aching to my heart.
“To the children of Gaza Shalom,
I understand your struggles and your hatred towards us. But have you ever wondered if one day we can be friends? If one day we can laugh, play, and forget all that has happened to both of us in the war? I thought to myself that you might not have an answer for that but I wish that one day there will be peace and we can be friends and everything will be ok.
Together lets make a stride for PEACE!”
After reading those letters, Tom who is currently applying to work for the Sderot Media Center, gave us a quick tour. He took us to the police station where hundreds of rockets are on display. On one rocket “to Al-Quds” was written in Arabic, it was meant to hit Jerusalem. This sent chills down my spine. We also learned that over 2,000 children in Sderot UNDER the age of 16 are on medication for Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. I remember, as we walked away from the police station, one of us said something I gurauntee we were all thinking, “I wish I could suffer instead of them.” I realized that I would take these kids’ places in a second. I wish they didn’t have to grow up in bomb shelters, I wish they didn’t have a psychotic episode every time a door slammed or a car alarm went off. But I can’t take their places; instead I can make their voices heard. I can’t advocate, I can remember, and I pray for them and their families.
After spending over 5 hours in Sderot we decided to make our way to the bus stop and head back to Jerusalem. At the bus stop a young man named Lidor asked me for a lighter. We spoke for a few minutes and after hearing Wajida and Jordan speak he realized we are Americans. I think it surprised him, the first thing he asked was why we came here to Sderot? I told him “we came for your story, do you have one?” He laughed and said, “I have too many.” He told my about how he had moved to Ashdod right before the Gaza war because the rockets in the Sderot were becoming unbearable. He said that at least 15 times a day the siren went off, this siren was a 30 second warning that sent people running to bomb shelters. “The sirens woke us up at least 5 or 6 times a night, I started sleeping in the bomb shelter with my younger brother, it was easier that way.”
He began telling us about the Gaza war, he said it was a blessing, it was a blessing to finally sleep through the night and not be awoken by rocket fire. But he also told me that everything happens for a reason, “we endured 8 years of rocket fire but it was for a reason now its quiet, I just pray that it lasts.” A few minutes later he hopped on a bus headed to Ashdod but not before turning to us and wishing us good luck.
After getting on our first bus we arrived at the Ashkelon junction. We got off and began to wait for our second bus that would take us to Jerusalem. That’s where I met Sarit. Sarit was wearing a “Gilad is still alive” shirt, which represents the popular movement in this country to make a deal for the safe return of kidnapped soldier, Gilad Shalit. We spoke for a while about Gilad Shalit and then she asked me where I had been today and I told her Sderot, she was surprised but she wasn’t the first person to be shocked or amazed about 3 Americans heading to Sderot. She told me that she is currently living on a Kibbutz near Abu Gosh and completing a year of community service before she joins the army next year. But before she moved to this Kibbutz she told me how she lived with her family in Ashdod and how before and during the Gaza war the situation had become unbearable. There were rockets everyday, buses didn’t run through those highways because of the constant rocket fire and she practically lived in a bomb shelter for 2 years. “We prayed every day that it would end.” Finally it did. She doesn’t care too much that this might be a temporary lull and that rocket fire will resume, she is just happy that her younger sister doesn’t have to grow up in a bomb shelter.
These people I met, they were strong, insightful and they move me. Their stories touched me, and I can only pray for them. Its hard because as an Israeli citizen I feel selfish living in Jerusalem in a beautiful apartment and walking around with my camera all day while my brothers, my sisters, my nation risks their lives to protect my freedoms.
In my last blog entry I ended off with a few lines from Psalms and I feel it may be fit to do the same here. Give that my internship is religion based and that while in Jerusalem I have found solace in religion I will end off with Psalms 23.
Psalm 23:1-4
The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He makes me to lie down in green pastures; he leads me beside the still waters. He restores my soul; he leads me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for You are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.
I will fear nothing while I am here because G-d gave me the strength to succeed. He gave me the strength to explore, he gave me the strength to learn and that I shall continue to do. I have found so much beauty in religion since I have gotten here that praying to G-d has become calming for me. It is a therapy I use on nights like tonight, when I can’t sleep because I await the storm that follows the calm.
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
"The soul of man is the candle of G-d"
If "The soul of man is the candle of G-d," why do we have so many faults? We have been made in G-d's image to be a light unto the nations yet we are not perfect and we do not love everyone as if they were all the children of G-d. We categorize people into Israeli and Palestinian, Jewish and Muslim, Liberal and Conservative. We no longer see humanity we only see titles, graphs, political parties, flags and we forget that our blood is the same color.
As every day passes, I am faced with an emotional struggle.
Its hard to explain this struggle, maybe its just homesickness or that I’ve been faced with this inner criticism of a country I call mine. I spent some time in the West Bank, both in Palestinian cities and in settlements and I found myself wondering how can people continue to live like this? How can they continue to live in a settlement surrounded by the possibility of hostility, with 5-10 armed soldiers guarding their homes in case of potential aggression? Why does stubbornness and anger trump forgiveness and love?
Whenever I get into a cab I like to ask the cab drivers, what does this conflict mean to you? I remember an Israeli Jewish driver named Yaakov who told me, “this isn’t your fight, enjoy your time here in Israel but don’t trouble yourself with our struggle it will only disappoint you.” He continued to tell me of how he lost his 2 sons, his oldest in a suicide bombing during the Second Intifada and his second in Gaza right before the disengagement of the Gush Katif settlements and the complete termination of occupation of the Gaza Strip.
His story reminded me of a poem I had read a few years ago called “Ode. Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood” by William Wordsworth. I recently read the poem over and a few lines struck me.
Though nothing can bring back the hour
Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower;
We will grieve not, rather find
Strength in what remains behind
Nothing in this world can ever bring back those that have fallen whether it be in honor of the State of Israel or as an innocent victim who’s life was taken in a split second. Too many parents, on both sides have had to put their children in the ground. Too many children have been and will continue to be sent off to enforce a blockade that has drawn international criticism. Too many children will continue to be motivated and influenced by violence and hatred. So what do we do from here? How can we “find strength in what remains behind”? What has remained behind in the aftermath of 60+ years of conflict and suffering?
I struggle with these questions because I try to find the answers. I want the pain of these people to be healed; I want them to love peace more than they hate each other. The blame for this conflict does not fall on one side over another; it is a two-sided struggle. Two sides that have committed grave errors, human rights violations, and injustices.
During my first trip to Bethlehem a few weeks ago I met a Palestinian cab driver named Qnais. Qnais picked us up at the checkpoint and began taking us on a tour around Bethlehem. He drove by his house and showed us how the wall had cut through some of his property but he was compensated by the Israelis he said. A few weeks later I bumped into Qnais again in Bethlehem, he called me Boss and gave me a huge hug. It was nice to see him again, he was a very sweet man and it saddened me to see his living conditions. When he looks out the window every morning he sees the wall, when he leaves for work every morning he sees that same wall and he’ll probably continue to see the wall until a solution is reached between 2 nations and 2 people. I guess I envision that some day when there is peace, when there is calm, Israelis and Palestinians will tear down the wall together and no longer see each other as enemies but as neighbors and brothers. Its funny how I pride myself on being a realist yet I slip into bouts of idealism and it depresses me when I come to my senses and realize that something like this might not even happen in my lifetime.
There are so many people in this region that have suffered tremendously. We have all lost, we have all cried, we have all mourned and we have all wondered when will this all end? I think its so important to remember that the acknowledgment of the suffering of the other does diminish my own suffering. For a Palestinian to recognize the suffering of the Israeli people does not mean their own suffering does not exist. For an Israeli to recognize the plight of the Palestinian people does not denounce the pain they have endured.
The people I have met, the things I have done here have opened my heart, my eyes and my mind. I have found myself loving peace more than I hate my enemy and I have also seen the other not as an enemy but as a human, one with similar struggles as my own. I will end this entry with Psalms 40.
Psalms 40:2-4
2 I waited patiently for the LORD; and He inclined unto me, and heard my cry.
3 He brought me up also out of the tumultuous pit, out of the miry clay;
and He set my feet upon a rock, He established my goings.
4 And He hath put a new song in my mouth, even praise unto our God;
many shall see, and fear, and shall trust in the LORD.
I will continue to pray, hope, and yearn for peace and maybe one day not only G-d will hear my cry but the world will as well.
As every day passes, I am faced with an emotional struggle.
Its hard to explain this struggle, maybe its just homesickness or that I’ve been faced with this inner criticism of a country I call mine. I spent some time in the West Bank, both in Palestinian cities and in settlements and I found myself wondering how can people continue to live like this? How can they continue to live in a settlement surrounded by the possibility of hostility, with 5-10 armed soldiers guarding their homes in case of potential aggression? Why does stubbornness and anger trump forgiveness and love?
Whenever I get into a cab I like to ask the cab drivers, what does this conflict mean to you? I remember an Israeli Jewish driver named Yaakov who told me, “this isn’t your fight, enjoy your time here in Israel but don’t trouble yourself with our struggle it will only disappoint you.” He continued to tell me of how he lost his 2 sons, his oldest in a suicide bombing during the Second Intifada and his second in Gaza right before the disengagement of the Gush Katif settlements and the complete termination of occupation of the Gaza Strip.
His story reminded me of a poem I had read a few years ago called “Ode. Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood” by William Wordsworth. I recently read the poem over and a few lines struck me.
Though nothing can bring back the hour
Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower;
We will grieve not, rather find
Strength in what remains behind
Nothing in this world can ever bring back those that have fallen whether it be in honor of the State of Israel or as an innocent victim who’s life was taken in a split second. Too many parents, on both sides have had to put their children in the ground. Too many children have been and will continue to be sent off to enforce a blockade that has drawn international criticism. Too many children will continue to be motivated and influenced by violence and hatred. So what do we do from here? How can we “find strength in what remains behind”? What has remained behind in the aftermath of 60+ years of conflict and suffering?
I struggle with these questions because I try to find the answers. I want the pain of these people to be healed; I want them to love peace more than they hate each other. The blame for this conflict does not fall on one side over another; it is a two-sided struggle. Two sides that have committed grave errors, human rights violations, and injustices.
During my first trip to Bethlehem a few weeks ago I met a Palestinian cab driver named Qnais. Qnais picked us up at the checkpoint and began taking us on a tour around Bethlehem. He drove by his house and showed us how the wall had cut through some of his property but he was compensated by the Israelis he said. A few weeks later I bumped into Qnais again in Bethlehem, he called me Boss and gave me a huge hug. It was nice to see him again, he was a very sweet man and it saddened me to see his living conditions. When he looks out the window every morning he sees the wall, when he leaves for work every morning he sees that same wall and he’ll probably continue to see the wall until a solution is reached between 2 nations and 2 people. I guess I envision that some day when there is peace, when there is calm, Israelis and Palestinians will tear down the wall together and no longer see each other as enemies but as neighbors and brothers. Its funny how I pride myself on being a realist yet I slip into bouts of idealism and it depresses me when I come to my senses and realize that something like this might not even happen in my lifetime.
There are so many people in this region that have suffered tremendously. We have all lost, we have all cried, we have all mourned and we have all wondered when will this all end? I think its so important to remember that the acknowledgment of the suffering of the other does diminish my own suffering. For a Palestinian to recognize the suffering of the Israeli people does not mean their own suffering does not exist. For an Israeli to recognize the plight of the Palestinian people does not denounce the pain they have endured.
The people I have met, the things I have done here have opened my heart, my eyes and my mind. I have found myself loving peace more than I hate my enemy and I have also seen the other not as an enemy but as a human, one with similar struggles as my own. I will end this entry with Psalms 40.
Psalms 40:2-4
2 I waited patiently for the LORD; and He inclined unto me, and heard my cry.
3 He brought me up also out of the tumultuous pit, out of the miry clay;
and He set my feet upon a rock, He established my goings.
4 And He hath put a new song in my mouth, even praise unto our God;
many shall see, and fear, and shall trust in the LORD.
I will continue to pray, hope, and yearn for peace and maybe one day not only G-d will hear my cry but the world will as well.
Saturday, June 12, 2010
A small break from interfaith dialogue
As amazing as the entire concept of Interfaith dialogue may sound it is completely exhausting. It's a taxing process that has involved me putting aside politics and opening myself up to a different form of dialogue. This dialogue does not involve a competition of which side has suffered more and who deserves what and which law is behind which nation. No, this is dialogue that is solely dependent on religion. How does your religion view spirituality, marriage, peace, the environment. Since my last encounter I have been to 3 more. This brings it to a total of 5 encounters, but nothing could have prepared me for what happened at an encounter a few nights ago.
The topic was "God's holy mountain" - can the Temple Mount and Jerusalem be shared the three major religions or at least can it be shared by Muslims and Jews? This interfaith encounter group was first held last year and it attracted big religious leaders in Israel. One of those leader was Sheikh Nimar-Darwish, the creator of the Islamic Radical movement in Israel. At this encounter he said, "If in the End of Days the Messiah says God told him to build the Temple here, no one will disobey his command. However if this [i.e. building the Temple] is the will of the messiah, I will bring the stones on my shoulders!"
I found that to be very interesting and maybe even optimistic. The encounter itself did not turn out that way. It was heated and stressful for me. But I realized those are learning experiences not everything I do during my internship will be easy and exciting. But after that I needed a break. So I made a trip to Caesarea, a town about 45minutes south of Tel Aviv. I am here visiting some family members and just overall relaxing, sitting by the pool, and NOT talking about the conflict. I was actually able to check out a huge protest outside a concert here. Surprisingly this protest had nothing to do with Israel, the Mavi Marmara, the Palestinian people, the Gaza blockade or anything political. This was a protest calling from Israel to divest from BP. This environmental group had put up signs all over the city against BP and the oil spill. FINALLY! No more politics. I can't tell you how much I enjoyed this protest, for the first time in so long this was something not politically motivated and completely based on the environment and people's concern over the oil spill in the Gulf coast that has take a back seat in the international uproar that has ensued over the Mavi Marmara incident.
Anyways, I'm happy at least someone gives a damn about the environment. I also had the opportunity to sit by a pool and tan and eat great Moroccan food and listen to some amazing Moroccan music. This weekend was much needed and it definitely was a great one. I am not really looking forward to going back to Jerusalem but I know there is a time for vacation and now its not the time. This was a pleasant excursion and I am now on my way to continuing my amazing internship.
The topic was "God's holy mountain" - can the Temple Mount and Jerusalem be shared the three major religions or at least can it be shared by Muslims and Jews? This interfaith encounter group was first held last year and it attracted big religious leaders in Israel. One of those leader was Sheikh Nimar-Darwish, the creator of the Islamic Radical movement in Israel. At this encounter he said, "If in the End of Days the Messiah says God told him to build the Temple here, no one will disobey his command. However if this [i.e. building the Temple] is the will of the messiah, I will bring the stones on my shoulders!"
I found that to be very interesting and maybe even optimistic. The encounter itself did not turn out that way. It was heated and stressful for me. But I realized those are learning experiences not everything I do during my internship will be easy and exciting. But after that I needed a break. So I made a trip to Caesarea, a town about 45minutes south of Tel Aviv. I am here visiting some family members and just overall relaxing, sitting by the pool, and NOT talking about the conflict. I was actually able to check out a huge protest outside a concert here. Surprisingly this protest had nothing to do with Israel, the Mavi Marmara, the Palestinian people, the Gaza blockade or anything political. This was a protest calling from Israel to divest from BP. This environmental group had put up signs all over the city against BP and the oil spill. FINALLY! No more politics. I can't tell you how much I enjoyed this protest, for the first time in so long this was something not politically motivated and completely based on the environment and people's concern over the oil spill in the Gulf coast that has take a back seat in the international uproar that has ensued over the Mavi Marmara incident.
Anyways, I'm happy at least someone gives a damn about the environment. I also had the opportunity to sit by a pool and tan and eat great Moroccan food and listen to some amazing Moroccan music. This weekend was much needed and it definitely was a great one. I am not really looking forward to going back to Jerusalem but I know there is a time for vacation and now its not the time. This was a pleasant excursion and I am now on my way to continuing my amazing internship.
Sunday, June 6, 2010
Bet Jala Adventures
Today I had my interfaith encounter at Bet Jala. I once again wasn’t permitted to take many pictures but I took some. The restaurant we went to was called Everest in Bet Jala and when we arrived we drove past a building and in Hebrew graffiti on the building it said “There are no weapons here, this is a restaurant.” The history of Bet Jala is a sordid one. Back during the second intifada a group of Hamas militants took over Bet Jala and began to shoot into Gilo (a jewish settlement) and launch rockets into the small city.
Israel’s response resulted in loss of life and the destruction of much of the infrastructure in Bet Jala. This small Palestinian town is a Christian one and that can be seen by the plethora of churches and monasteries we drove by. When we arrived at the restaurant I met Talib for the first time. He is a professor at Al-Quds University, a world-renowned scholar, and a advocate for peace and understanding between the religions represented in the region.
The encounter was impactful, interesting and meaningful. A Palestinian woman, Maisoon from Hebron who I bonded with shared a lot about spirituality in Islam. At the end she hugged me and said to me “Inshallah I will see you again”. The dialogue and respect between the people who represented the 3 religions was inspiring. Another woman, Raphaela from Italy, has done peace work in Tibet and India and is currently working for an NGO in Italy that fights for rights of disabled people with multiple sclerosis. She is definitely another inspiring figure. She represented Catholicism on the issue of spirituality and holiness.
The rabbi in the group, Robert Carroll who happens to also be a Brandeis alum, shared a story from the Talmud with the group. The story goes, there were once 2 men who had a disagreement over some land. One man claimed that he owned the land and the other claimed that he owned the land. This is when Talib quipped, “well doesn’t that sound familiar.” These two men argued and fought over the land but to no avail, neither was willing to sacrifice what they believed to be was their land. They decided to go speak to a judge. This judge heard both their cases but was not able to make a decision on the matter. So the judge told both men, “I could not properly deliberate and therefore I have decided that we should ask the land what it thinks.” When they arrived at the plot of land the judge asked, “Which of these men is your rightful owner?” And the land replied, “Neither of these men own me, I own both of them.” Symbolically, this represents that we are just creatures in this world that are at the mercy of the environment. We are at the mercy of hurricanes, earthquakes, tsunamis. We are at the mercy of the rain, sun, and snow. We do not own the land, the land owns us. There has been so much bloodshed over this land that the Palestinians and Israelis have been fighting over for years but if we don’t respect one another, our claim to any land is futile. It’s a powerful message that resonated through every single person sitting at that encounter.
By the end of the encounter we were all family. We exchanged hugs and kisses on the cheeks. Talib took a liking to me, he told me, “keep spreading peace because you are OUR future.” I don’t think he was directly telling me that I am the future of the conflict but he was enforcing a message, that the youth of today are the future of this conflict. He continued on and said to me, you can convince 100 people out of your village of 101 to go to war but if that 1 person is against you, even if you win the war you are the loser. Because it only takes one to conquer you.” What I understood from this was, that even if you win the actual battle, if not everyone supports your message of peace, you will lose. You lose because if a message of understanding and respect and a willingness for peace isn’t something engrained into every single person’s mind form both sides, violence will just continue. It will have a constant presence in both Israel and the Palestinian territories and both sides will suffer tremendously.
This encounter was a productive and moving one. It has shown me inner beauty in so many people and that is something I have come to respect and yearn for. This sense of inner peace and respect towards people of all religions and political affiliations. And maturity and wisdom that is rarely seen anywhere else in the world. These people know the struggle because they are living the struggle, yet their view peace as the only option and they are willing to learn more and grow as human beings in order to achieve that outcome. I'm expecting and hoping that these encounters will be as amazing as this one.
Israel’s response resulted in loss of life and the destruction of much of the infrastructure in Bet Jala. This small Palestinian town is a Christian one and that can be seen by the plethora of churches and monasteries we drove by. When we arrived at the restaurant I met Talib for the first time. He is a professor at Al-Quds University, a world-renowned scholar, and a advocate for peace and understanding between the religions represented in the region.
The encounter was impactful, interesting and meaningful. A Palestinian woman, Maisoon from Hebron who I bonded with shared a lot about spirituality in Islam. At the end she hugged me and said to me “Inshallah I will see you again”. The dialogue and respect between the people who represented the 3 religions was inspiring. Another woman, Raphaela from Italy, has done peace work in Tibet and India and is currently working for an NGO in Italy that fights for rights of disabled people with multiple sclerosis. She is definitely another inspiring figure. She represented Catholicism on the issue of spirituality and holiness.
The rabbi in the group, Robert Carroll who happens to also be a Brandeis alum, shared a story from the Talmud with the group. The story goes, there were once 2 men who had a disagreement over some land. One man claimed that he owned the land and the other claimed that he owned the land. This is when Talib quipped, “well doesn’t that sound familiar.” These two men argued and fought over the land but to no avail, neither was willing to sacrifice what they believed to be was their land. They decided to go speak to a judge. This judge heard both their cases but was not able to make a decision on the matter. So the judge told both men, “I could not properly deliberate and therefore I have decided that we should ask the land what it thinks.” When they arrived at the plot of land the judge asked, “Which of these men is your rightful owner?” And the land replied, “Neither of these men own me, I own both of them.” Symbolically, this represents that we are just creatures in this world that are at the mercy of the environment. We are at the mercy of hurricanes, earthquakes, tsunamis. We are at the mercy of the rain, sun, and snow. We do not own the land, the land owns us. There has been so much bloodshed over this land that the Palestinians and Israelis have been fighting over for years but if we don’t respect one another, our claim to any land is futile. It’s a powerful message that resonated through every single person sitting at that encounter.
By the end of the encounter we were all family. We exchanged hugs and kisses on the cheeks. Talib took a liking to me, he told me, “keep spreading peace because you are OUR future.” I don’t think he was directly telling me that I am the future of the conflict but he was enforcing a message, that the youth of today are the future of this conflict. He continued on and said to me, you can convince 100 people out of your village of 101 to go to war but if that 1 person is against you, even if you win the war you are the loser. Because it only takes one to conquer you.” What I understood from this was, that even if you win the actual battle, if not everyone supports your message of peace, you will lose. You lose because if a message of understanding and respect and a willingness for peace isn’t something engrained into every single person’s mind form both sides, violence will just continue. It will have a constant presence in both Israel and the Palestinian territories and both sides will suffer tremendously.
This encounter was a productive and moving one. It has shown me inner beauty in so many people and that is something I have come to respect and yearn for. This sense of inner peace and respect towards people of all religions and political affiliations. And maturity and wisdom that is rarely seen anywhere else in the world. These people know the struggle because they are living the struggle, yet their view peace as the only option and they are willing to learn more and grow as human beings in order to achieve that outcome. I'm expecting and hoping that these encounters will be as amazing as this one.
Saturday, June 5, 2010
trip to bethlehem
Today we took a trip into the West Bank. Jordan came into Jerusalem from Jaffa and spent Shabbat with us. Then we woke up early this morning and prepared for our trip into the West Bank. We took an Arab shared taxi to the checkpoint where we were dropped off. Together we walked through the security checkpoint and alongside the fence/wall that separates Israel from the Palestinian Territories.
Our first destination would be the Church of the Nativity but in order to get there we would need to take a cab. None of us know the language, I know a few absolutely random words and phrases but that gets me nowhere in the West Bank. I quickly found a friend, a taxi driver named Qnais, a sweet, bubbly, middle aged man from Bethlehem. He took us through the city stopping to allow us to take a few photos. He kept calling me "Boss", which I found to be amusing. He dropped us off in front of the church and wished us well. After going through the church itself we decided to explore the city of Bethlehem. We entered a bustling market place and in just a few minutes we saw no more tourists, no more internationals, just Palestinians going about their daily lives buying, selling, and bargaining. Its funny how similar the Israelis and Palestinians really are, this scene was one that was mimicked in Machane Yehuda, a large shuk in Jerusalem.
After our journey through Bethlehem we visited the Dheishe refugee camp. Walking through the "camp" (not the typical refugee camp - there are buildings and houses, etc...) we saw a very unfortunate sight. It felt like a third world country to me, the great disparity between the city of Bethlehem and this refugee camp was very evident. Once again I made some friends along the way, 2 shop owners who asked me to take their picture. We chatted for a few minutes and one of them asked me where I was from, I said New York City. He went on to explain to me how he spent 2 days in New York 6 summers ago and how he liked Texas better. I laughed at his 10 minute anecdote that he struggled through due to his lack of English vocabulary. He definitely had very high spirits for someone living in a refugee camp. I liked that about him, it shows that there will always be people in this world who would rather smile and laugh then complain about the situation they live in or ask for any sort of pity. He was very optimistic and very kind, and as I was leaving he told me welcome and I told him shukran. He got a kick out of that, a white American girl trying to speak Arabic.
When we reached the end of the camp the houses became nicer, beautiful, well built, and clean. This was so radically different from the beginning of the camp. I soon found out that most of these nicer houses are owned by members of the Fatah Party and the Palestinian Authority. Unfortunately corruption is something very common in this world but I blame many of the conditions of the Dheisheh refugee camp on the government on Abu Mazen, and on Fatah. There is no excuse to allow this level of suffering while government and Fatah party officials live in the lap of luxury.
Finally, our short field trip came to an end we walked alongside the security fence/wall towards our checkpoint to enter back into Israel. The things written on the wall ranged from powerful, to meaningful, to pleading, to cruel, to anti-Semitic, and to memorable. Is was definitely a thought provoking and powerful way to end our trip. I think I will make my way back to Bethlehem next weekend and explore some more, maybe visit another refugee camp (there are 3 in Bethlehem). Tomorrow I go to Beit Jala for an interfaith encounter, it should be powerful and emotional. I can't wait until then! That's all from now but I'll write another post after my visit to Beit Jala tomorrow.
Our first destination would be the Church of the Nativity but in order to get there we would need to take a cab. None of us know the language, I know a few absolutely random words and phrases but that gets me nowhere in the West Bank. I quickly found a friend, a taxi driver named Qnais, a sweet, bubbly, middle aged man from Bethlehem. He took us through the city stopping to allow us to take a few photos. He kept calling me "Boss", which I found to be amusing. He dropped us off in front of the church and wished us well. After going through the church itself we decided to explore the city of Bethlehem. We entered a bustling market place and in just a few minutes we saw no more tourists, no more internationals, just Palestinians going about their daily lives buying, selling, and bargaining. Its funny how similar the Israelis and Palestinians really are, this scene was one that was mimicked in Machane Yehuda, a large shuk in Jerusalem.
After our journey through Bethlehem we visited the Dheishe refugee camp. Walking through the "camp" (not the typical refugee camp - there are buildings and houses, etc...) we saw a very unfortunate sight. It felt like a third world country to me, the great disparity between the city of Bethlehem and this refugee camp was very evident. Once again I made some friends along the way, 2 shop owners who asked me to take their picture. We chatted for a few minutes and one of them asked me where I was from, I said New York City. He went on to explain to me how he spent 2 days in New York 6 summers ago and how he liked Texas better. I laughed at his 10 minute anecdote that he struggled through due to his lack of English vocabulary. He definitely had very high spirits for someone living in a refugee camp. I liked that about him, it shows that there will always be people in this world who would rather smile and laugh then complain about the situation they live in or ask for any sort of pity. He was very optimistic and very kind, and as I was leaving he told me welcome and I told him shukran. He got a kick out of that, a white American girl trying to speak Arabic.
When we reached the end of the camp the houses became nicer, beautiful, well built, and clean. This was so radically different from the beginning of the camp. I soon found out that most of these nicer houses are owned by members of the Fatah Party and the Palestinian Authority. Unfortunately corruption is something very common in this world but I blame many of the conditions of the Dheisheh refugee camp on the government on Abu Mazen, and on Fatah. There is no excuse to allow this level of suffering while government and Fatah party officials live in the lap of luxury.
Finally, our short field trip came to an end we walked alongside the security fence/wall towards our checkpoint to enter back into Israel. The things written on the wall ranged from powerful, to meaningful, to pleading, to cruel, to anti-Semitic, and to memorable. Is was definitely a thought provoking and powerful way to end our trip. I think I will make my way back to Bethlehem next weekend and explore some more, maybe visit another refugee camp (there are 3 in Bethlehem). Tomorrow I go to Beit Jala for an interfaith encounter, it should be powerful and emotional. I can't wait until then! That's all from now but I'll write another post after my visit to Beit Jala tomorrow.
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
First Day!
Today was my first day at the Interfaith Encounter Association! It's a grassroots organization that has been working for many years to spread peace through interfaith dialogue. Depending on how my internship goes, Yehuda (my boss) and I discussed starting a branch at Brandeis University which, I think can become extremely beneficial to students of all faiths.
Tonight at 6:15pm I will be going to my first Interfaith Encounter in Jerusalem. Its an all female encounter of Muslim, Christian, and Jewish women from Jerusalem, Jaffa, Haifa, Tel Aviv and the West Bank. It should be absolutely amazing. I'll be photographing and taking notes, just trying to take it all in and experience it to the fullest. So I will probably post some pictures and a short post later today on my experience.
Tonight at 6:15pm I will be going to my first Interfaith Encounter in Jerusalem. Its an all female encounter of Muslim, Christian, and Jewish women from Jerusalem, Jaffa, Haifa, Tel Aviv and the West Bank. It should be absolutely amazing. I'll be photographing and taking notes, just trying to take it all in and experience it to the fullest. So I will probably post some pictures and a short post later today on my experience.
Monday, May 31, 2010
A small delay
Early this morning 10 pro-palestinian activists were killed when Israeli Navy troops boarded 6 six ships that were en-route to Gaza. This incident has sent shockwaves through throughout the international media as well as the state of Israel. My internship start date has been delayed by a day and I have family members calling me and urging me to stay home and avoid going out until there is more information available about the situation.
NY Times Article
Honestly, I find the whole situation to be ridiculous. I think that when people physically attack soldiers, they are asking for severe repercussions. Its people like that that are involved in the Gaza Freedom Movement and Insani Yardim Vakfi who are at fault. They act as a barrier to peace and their involvement in Israel should be completely eliminated. I also find it ironic that Ahmadinajad of Iran, called the incident "inhuman" given that his government has been murdering anti-government political protesters.
I support the Israeli government's actions today, they were just and legal. Maybe the world sees things differently when they are in regards to Israel but if actions such as these continue to come from Pro-palestinian supporters, peace will never be achieved. They are the roadblock to understanding because they introduce hate.
Thats all I will be saying on that subject, hopefully the tensions will die down a bit tomorrow and I will start my internship.
NY Times Article
Honestly, I find the whole situation to be ridiculous. I think that when people physically attack soldiers, they are asking for severe repercussions. Its people like that that are involved in the Gaza Freedom Movement and Insani Yardim Vakfi who are at fault. They act as a barrier to peace and their involvement in Israel should be completely eliminated. I also find it ironic that Ahmadinajad of Iran, called the incident "inhuman" given that his government has been murdering anti-government political protesters.
I support the Israeli government's actions today, they were just and legal. Maybe the world sees things differently when they are in regards to Israel but if actions such as these continue to come from Pro-palestinian supporters, peace will never be achieved. They are the roadblock to understanding because they introduce hate.
Thats all I will be saying on that subject, hopefully the tensions will die down a bit tomorrow and I will start my internship.
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Moved in!
Just moved into my apartment in Jerusalem with Wajida and Anushka. The apartment is beautiful! We haven't heard from Jordan, I think he might be dead. That was me being sarcastic, I don't really think he's dead, he's just missing.
Anyways, tomorrow is the first day of my internship, that should be amazing I'm pretty excited to get started and really get into the whole Jerusalem feel. Plus this is something I have wanted to do for a very long time so I have a lot of expectations for myself. I think my mood has lightened since arriving in Jerusalem, I'm around people I know and in a beautiful city. I'm just pretty excited about what this summer brings.
This post will be short, we're probably going to cook dinner at the apartment tonight, its our first meal together as summer roommates, so that should be eventful. More updates to come tomorrow or Tuesday.
Anyways, tomorrow is the first day of my internship, that should be amazing I'm pretty excited to get started and really get into the whole Jerusalem feel. Plus this is something I have wanted to do for a very long time so I have a lot of expectations for myself. I think my mood has lightened since arriving in Jerusalem, I'm around people I know and in a beautiful city. I'm just pretty excited about what this summer brings.
This post will be short, we're probably going to cook dinner at the apartment tonight, its our first meal together as summer roommates, so that should be eventful. More updates to come tomorrow or Tuesday.
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