Originally posted on my blog:
(click for more!)
Our visit to Hevron (West Bank). A challenging day of conflicting narratives. Heard personal stories and shared reflections from Israeli settlers, Israeli soldiers, Palestinian residents, peace-building organizations, and International Human Rights-Watch organizations.
[Cross-Posted from my blog, Lost in Jerusalem]
Dear readers (all three of you), as you can see, it’s been almost four months since I’ve written for my blog. I could blame writer’s block or the typical day to day distractions as the reason behind my silence. For instance, I’ve been getting into Lost, because my parents have Netflix, and I’m a sucker for TV dramas. This is like Star Trek: Deep Space 9 all over again, when watching five episodes in one extremely late night became a common occurrence. That time, I believe my addiction nearly destroyed my Hebrew classes in college, because I lent the series to my professor; I managed to hook he and wife both, like a junkie looking for fellow junkies to connect with as we slip further in between the cracks of the productive parts of society, boldly spiraling to where no man has gone before (except for millions of other hopeless Trekkies). Talk about distractions. But the reason for my virtual silence is really quite simple; I’m exhausted. I’m exhausted, and thinking of my beloved Israel and Jerusalem is even more exhausting. I miss being there so much, that it drains me to think about it. I then get sad, and when I get sad, it looks very similar to anger, and my poor family has had to put up with my sad/angry shit for years. I’d rather not be sad and angry, if for nothing else, to save my family the headache of my bellyaching.
However, my exhaustion isn’t just from my perpetual state of longing for Israel; it also comes from what has been my job for the last couple of months. Continue reading
Last year was my blogging year. This year is the one where I step aside and help other people blog Pardes. This suits me just fine since this is also the year where I have no time to blog (almost). It occurred to me, however, that if I am to run this blog, then I should let people know what to do. The new posters have all been great so far, but I, like all the great Jewish visionaries**, am constantly focused on the future. So, as a public-service, I thought I’d devote some of my precious free time towards compiling the following “User’s Guide to the Blog,” a list of “Do’s and Don’t's” for all you aspiring These and Thosers out there (they exist, right?……please?)
DO:
WRONG: Hey “Abba”and “Imma,” Guess what?!?! I just spent Shabbat in a West Bank settlement over the Green Line (this means it’s illegal under international law) with a family of Religious Zionists!! But don’t worry, it was safe—even though they were religious, the husband always kept a gun in his belt, even on Shabbat! Viva la Pardes!!
RIGHT: Beloved parents, I just experienced a Shabbat in the beautiful Biblical land of Judea, in a quiet, scenic gated community to the east of Jerusalem with a wonderful Orthodox family. Never worry, I feel very safe here in the Holy Land.
WRONG: I went to the Shuk on Friday morning. It was really busy.
RIGHT: On Friday mornings, the Shuk is, as my roommate put it, “a chaotic clash of Middle-Eastern culture and Captialism.” It’s a kaleidoscope of color and movement and noise as Israelis, tourists, and those of us somewhere in-between scramble to try to balance the two mitzvot of preparing the finest foods for Shabbat with that of staying in budget. It’s simultaneously a cesspool and a sanctification, dirty, cheap, and impossibly miraculous, who ever said the Gathering of the Exiles would be pretty? It is Modern Hebrew, it is Israel. And I can’t handle it.
DON’T:
In keeping with the Jewish tradition of not ending on a negative note, I’ll close with one last do
DO:
Viva la Pardes!!
–
*I was originally going to call this “How to Write a Good Blog Post,” but then realized how presumptuous that sounds.
**So much for not being presumptuous.
About a month and a half ago, I went to Hevron for Shabbat with a few Pardesniks to visit a fellow student’s wife’s family. His wife actually grew up in Hevron; and her parents still live there today. I was very grateful for the family’s generosity and hospitality, and for the chance they gave me to experience Hevron via something other than a quick tour. The following is my account of some of the moments that stood out for me about the weekend.
On Friday evening, we went to kabbalat Shabbat services at what they call “the Me’arah” (otherwise known as the Cave of Machpelah). It’s not really much of a cave – more of a big shrine sort of building with “graves” of matriarchs/patriarchs labeled. There are like 4 simultaneous kabbalat Shabbat minyanim there, but the one we attended seemed to be the largest and was held in this big, cavernous, freezing cold space. It was a mechitza minyan, of course – I’ve gotten used to that by now – but unlike the orthodox minyanim I tend to frequent in Jerusalem, Continue reading
Last weekend, I spent a lovely Shabbat in the holy city of Hevron. What a place!
The four Pardesniks that went were a tour de force of “peace and conflict.” Personally, I made it my duty to wear a huge smile and say hello to every person I happened across, be they Jew, Arab or European observer. The laughs were endless!
Perhaps my favorite part of visiting Hevron, as well as the primary reason why it’s so important for Jews to live there, is going to the Cave of the Patriarchs. It’s such a holy feeling, when you finish davening and you can be blessed through the memories o f the Avot and Immahot. Not suprisingly, most of the davening that happens in Hevron occurs at Machpelah. I mean, why daven anywhere else? A shul in Hevron is about as useless as a shul in the Old City. And, let me tell you, the davening was pretty sick. The Kabbalat Shabbat service there was among the best Carlebach services I have ever attended. Those zealots make the guys at Mizmor L’David seem asleep. And it was perhaps my proudest moment, before Lecha Dodi, when I assumed the role of honorary snuff guy at the Machpela. That itself was worth the trip.
I’ll be honest, though. Hevron isn’t the paradise we make it out to be. They’ve got a serious problem, and my hope here is to address it and make inroads to solving it. The problem of which I am speaking, of course, is the lack of egalitarian davening at Machpelah. Jerusalem has made modest inroads in this regard, with the Masorti Kotel and the courageous Women of the Wall. At Machpelah, which attracts hundreds of visitors a week, the issue has never been brought up, as far as I am aware. Like the Kotel, Machpelah belongs to all Jews, not only the Orthodox establishment. It is an embarassment to the democracy of the State of Israel that one of our holiest sites cannot be religiously pluralistic.
For these reasons, I conceived of the idea for an egalitarian minyan in Hevron, but I can’t do it alone. I need the help of at least 9 brave Jewish men and women (probably more to ensure attendance) to help me place facts on the ground in the Hevron community and stand up to the coercive pressure of the Orthodox. I haven’t decided on a name yet, and I’m open to suggestions. So far, I’ve thought of Conservatives at the Cave, Masorti b’Machpela, or Hevron Shivioni.
Now, at this point, you’re probably saying to yourself, “Rob, those Hevron people are crazy. Try starting an egalitarian minyan at Machpelah, and they’ll shoot you.”
That brings me to the secret ingredient to my plan. What we will need to do to achieve our goals is to balance our religious moderation with a nationalism so strong and violent that the other Hevron residents (including the army and police) will be afraid of us.
How do we do that?
The first move is to establish for ourselves a base of action, our “settlement within a settlement.” There are plenty of houses in H-2 that are vacant because their “owners” “fled.” My plan is, through extra-legal means, to occupy and establish residency in those buildings and immediately initiate a wave of violence against the local Arab population. To describe an analogous situation, think of a new inmate’s first night in maximum-security prison. It is absolutely vital that, on that first night, he beats someone within an inch of his life so that the more established inmates don’t get any ideas in the shower. It’s the same idea here. The Orthodox establishment will a) most likely support us in our campaign of violence, and b) become frightened of us with the extent of our attacks. All they’ll be able to say is, “They’re a bunch of heretics, but they make us look like Meretz.”
Our new status in the Hevron community, then, will give us a leg to stand on vis-à-vis organizing egalitarian davening at Machpela. We will start small, with davening on the steps outside of Machpelah like Jews of old used to do (which we could name the Madrega (stairs) Minyan), and, through threats of violence and armed negotiations, we will begin sharing Machpela and having weekly, Shabbat, and holiday services on a rotating basis.
This is a holy mission we are setting out to accomplish here. We are taking ownership of one of our most sacred sites through the model of religious moderation. Who’s with me?
Teach me and instruct me
how to behave with all people in the world
so that I may merit being in peace with all,
even with those who disagree with me,
And so that I should merit to always be
a lover of peace,and a pursuer of peace
As it is written:
'Seek peace and pursue it'"
Rav Nachman of Breslav
A few weeks ago, my school took a trip to Hevron.
Hevron is a holy city in the West Bank, south of Jerusalem. It is notable for being the burial site of the biblical matriarchs and patriarchs (the Me’arat ha-Machpela, Cave of the Patriarchs). While being an incredibly significant religious site for Judaism, it is also a very important site for Christians and Muslims.
But unfortunately, Hevron is notable for another reason. It is one of the most complex and complicated areas of Israel, and perhaps a representation of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict at its worst.
First, a bit of background about our trip. As I understand it, the goal of our trip was to see Hevron, visit the Cave of the Patriarchs, and to offer us a nuanced perspective and hear from multiple points-of-view about the current reality in parts of the city.
Currently, Hevron is divided into two sections: H1 and H2. The Palestinian Authority has control over H1, and has around 120,000 Palestinians, and no Jews, living there. H2 has around 500 Jews and 30,000 Palestinians, and is controlled by Israel. We visited H2.
We heard from many different people throughout the day, including:
The first speaker said that we would probably leave Hevron with more questions than we had answers. We would leave with more confusion than we arrived with. We would feel more frustrated at the end of the day than we felt at the start.
She was right. But my biggest reflection of the day? Peace never felt so far away.
There is suffering, grief, and pain on all sides of this conflict. In Hevron, I could not only see it, but I could feel it. There is bitter debate over who has the “rights” to be there, and who should have control over the Cave of the Patriarchs. In this particular area of Hevron, the hostility has escalated to a situation where there are separated streets, wire cages on windows, and armed soldiers on every corner.
Hebron wasn’t always this way. The population used to live in relative coexistence up until the last 20 years. Some of my teachers talked about how they used to go to Hevron and shop in the Arab markets there.
How did this happen? How did we get into a situation where people (on both sides) have to fear violence every day? Where people are afraid to leave their houses? Where soldiers need to walk around with machine guns and riot gear?
And on a larger scale, what do you do when you have two groups of people with two conflicting narratives? And when the majority of people on both sides want peace, but a despicable few act on their hatred? What happens when, by ensuring the safety of one group, another group’s welfare is affected? And just because you have certain “rights,” what is the price you pay for exercising them?
Obviously, these are not new or unique questions. And they are not easy questions. This is the conflict.
On our way to Hebron, we stopped at a small coffee “shop,” called Pinna Chama, that is a place where Israeli soldiers can go to get free coffee and snacks. It’s run by volunteers. Pinna Chama was established after a family lost their loved one in a roadside bomb attack. They wanted to create a warm place that soldiers could visit when they are in the area.
This gentleman spoke on behalf of the Jewish community in Hebron. When asked what his vision is for Hebron, he said, “to live here normally, to live like people live everywhere else, to live without carrying a gun, to live peacefully with my neighbors.”
This is a street in H2. Because of the division of the city of Hebron, these Palestinian shops were forced to shut down, essentially creating a ghost town. Also, Palestinian residents on this street are not allowed to leave out of the front doors of their houses.
The sign says “Caution: This was taken by Israel. This is Apartheid.” Many of the Palestinian homes/apartments have wire cages around the windows to protect them from violence.
This is a memorial for a Jewish baby that was shot by a Palestinian militant sniper during the Second Intifada.
This gentleman spoke on behalf of the Palestinian community in H2. He hopes that Hebron will be a part of a future Palestinian state, and wishes to live in peace and security.
For more photos, see the original post!
Why did I start out this blog post with a quote about peace, if Hevron gave me a feeling of just the opposite?
Every day, there are examples of co-existence and peace all around Israel. There are many people who have made it their life work to foster co-existence, peaceful relations, and understanding of the Other. While there are areas of extreme conflict, like Hevron, there are also places that are true examples of what peace could look like.
I admire my school for taking this trip. It is not an easy place to go, nor is it an easy place to discuss. At Pardes, we have students, faculty, and staff that stand at all points of the political spectrum, and some individuals have very close and personal connections with Hevron. But what has become clear to me is that we are all “pursuers of peace” in the best way that we know how.
Since the trip, there have been many conversations, both formal and informal, about the experience in Hevron. While people may vehemently disagree with each other, there has been overall a respect and a willingness to listen. Perhaps by listening to each other, by challenging other, we can be, and can encourage others to be, “pursuers of peace.”
At least it’s a start.
All week I had been excited to spend my Shabbat in the “Gush” with two of my teachers. They always have students in their homes for Shabbat, and the anticipation had been building since I heard about other students wonderful experiences.
We (Hannah, Yishai, and Amber) left Jerusalem around 1:30, which was way too early, but we didn’t want to be late for Shabbat! It was wonderful that we were early because we got to help make challah.
When I made aliyah a year ago, I knew that I was doing so on the grounds that it would be challenging, not only financially or emotionally, but because Israel is difficult. There is nothing easy about Israel, and maybe that is where her true beauty comes from.
This visit to Hebron was different, we started with a tour of Tel Hebron (the excavations of the biblical city) followed by a tour of the Tomb of the Patriarchs, (which I loved!), we listened to a representative from Breaking the Silence, an organization designed to change the way that soldiers interact with residences in Hebron. Afterwards we listened to two different settlers living in Hebron about their reasons for living there and their hopes for the future. At the end of the day we talked to a Palestinian human rights activist who grew up and is now living in Hebron. Did you just ask yourself, “How long were these students in Hebron?” Well, you’re right, it was a long intense day. But I found myself very grateful for the number of views that were presented to me.
My struggle with Israel was not lessened after my second visit to Hebron, but I did find myself thinking that I made the right decision to live in a country that I love. In a country that I know will be here for me and my children in the future, a country that is always changing and evolving and learning to live peacefully. I know that there are things in Israel that I am not proud of, but there are things in the US that I am not proud of either. And despite these things, I am a proud citizen and know that I have to be here to help make the country better and even more beautiful than when I arrived.
I am a 22 year old American living in Jerusalem. I moved here shortly after my college graduation to spend a year learning Jewish texts and familiarizing myself with Israel. Coming here, I expected to meet wonderful people and be enriched by high quality learning and wonderful adventures. What I did not expect was to have my heart broken by the reality of what is going on in Israel.
All my life I have contributed to the Jewish National Fund (JNF). As a little kid, I remember how exciting it was to put coins in the little blue boxes. I was proud of the work they did building reservoirs and planting trees. I admired the way they also financed parks and trees in Palestinian territories. And I was personally grateful for their help in financing my alternative spring break trip to Uruguay to build emergency housing in the barrio during my freshman year of college.
Because I was so proud of JNF and because I lauded them for the good they create in the world and because they are one of the few organizations I have personally funded, you can imagine my shock when I opened the paper this week and learned that my JNF is behind the eviction of a twelve person family in East Jerusalem including five children, a pregnant mother, and a grandfather on dialysis. How could this be?
The eviction of the Sumarin family began almost twenty years ago. The owner of the property passed away, at which point government officials took exception to documentation regarding inheritance of the property and confiscated it under the Abandoned Property Law. Despite the fact that the Sumarin family was still residing in this home, the property was then transferred to the Development Authority which is run by the state of Israel. In a not-uncommon turn of events, the government then exchanged this property and surrounding lands for land near Wadi Ara, Northern West Bank. In this deal, Himnuta, the JNF subsidiary, became the owner of the property. That was in the early 1990s.
Shortly thereafter, Himnuta leased the other properties involved in this land exchange to Jewish settlers through the Elad agency. The Sumarin family appeared in court many times over the coming years, defending their right to their home, and received both verdicts in their favor and against them. In 2005, Himnuta filed to evict the Sumarin family. This suit was accepted in 2006 by the Jerusalem Magistrate’s Court and the family was required to vacate the property and pay a one million shekel fine. (Keep in mind that according to a government survey conducted in 2008 of Israeli—not Palestinian—territories, the gross monthly income per Israeli household was 13,339 shekels. According to this study the gross yearly income of an Israeli family would be 160,068 shekels. This means that the Sumarin family’s fine was 6.25 times the gross yearly income of the average Israeli family, and the average yearly income for a Palestinian family is far less than that of an Israeli family. How could any family anywhere pay a fine of 6.25 times their yearly income?)
For a few years after the eviction notice was delivered, it seemed that Himnuta had forgotten about the suit. But, about two months ago, proceedings began again. This time, Himnuta pursued the property through the Bailiff’s office. The Sumarin’s received another eviction notice which requires them to vacate the property by November 28 or they will be forcibly removed from the property. And their fine was doubled to two million shekels.
This story not only breaks my heart, but fills me with an indelible sense of guilt. After all, my beloved JNF is not the only culprit here. I contributed to their funding. In this way, I helped to fund the Sumarin family eviction. And this is not an isolated case. This appears to be a commonly employed strategy to displace Palestinian families and expand Jewish settlements in spite of what is publicized as government or JNF policy.
I beg you to please write to JNF. Tell them that creating Jewish homes by throwing Palestinian families into the street is no way to create a homeland. Implore them to act with a higher moral authority. Demand that your money be directed towards good in the world, and not in a way which fuels terrorism and ill will. I have been a witness for the pain that JNF is causing. If you speak up and demand change I can be a witness to JNF living up to its charter and to traditional Jewish values of social justice.
I was shocked to find out how different the reality here is from what is reported in the American press. I believe that things will only change if the American people hold Israel accountable. Please speak up. Please allow me to witness the righteousness of the American people. Hold JNF accountable for policies and actions committed under the guise of Himnuta and create a more just Israel.
Since this article was written, the family was granted a temporary reprieve. But this is not the end. There is still a lot of work necessary to prevent this from happening in the future, and to alleviate ongoing threats of eviction. Want to get involved? Here are a few suggestions:
Yesterday, a Jewish Israeli destroyed a Palestinian man’s livelihood.
This is an important fact for us all to know, so I’m sharing it with you. A friend let me know about it today, face flushed and a hint of tears in her eyes. A human rights organization in Jerusalem received a call for urgent help, but arrived on the scene too late. A vineyard owned by a Palestinian man had been cut down – all the vines slashed. By an Israeli Jewish man living in a settlement nearby.
My friend felt this wound deep in her heart, and I felt it too. It might touch you too, if you’re reading this – maybe make you squirm with discomfort. How could a Jewish person, an Israeli, a settler, do such a thing? Haven’t I always been taught that it’s the Arabs that we need to fear, not the Jews? Haven’t I always been taught that Jews have been victims throughout history, not perpetrators of violent crimes against innocent people?
Dr. Meesh Hammer-Kossoy recently gave a lecture at Pardes about the importance of Jews giving תוכחה (rebuke) to fellow Jews. The Talmud contains stories describing how, when rabbis failed to rebuke someone who strayed from the path, they were seen as just as guilty.
I want to offer a rebuke. To the Jewish person that cut another person’s vineyard, another person’s livelihood, another person’s ancestral inheritance: you are destroying the soul of the Jewish people. Your Torah and mine teaches us to respect others, not to destroy their livelihood out of petty hatred. I rebuke you for not living up to our Jewish law. I rebuke you for not living up to our Israeli law. You dishonor us.
?השומר אחי אנוכי
My rebuke comes out of compassion. Out of care for the Palestinian man that was hurt, and out of concern for the integrity of the Jewish people. Others have felt the same way I do, and have already started to take action. The organization Rabbis for Human Rights, for example, is aware of constant potential danger to Palestinian farmers and their livelihoods, from other extremists like this man and from Israeli security forces. They organize groups of Israelis and internationals to accompany the Palestinian farmers on their harvests, to serve as watchdogs for the police and the security forces. Let’s organize ourselves! Will you join me in spending a day with farmers and their harvests, sometime in October? Please send me a message and let me know if you are willing.