I went to Bethlehem yesterday to visit Emily, who is interning there for a few months. It was great to see her and it was great to be in a different part of the country (it reminded me a bit of Jordan). The whole experience in getting there and leaving was quite unsettling. I knew about everything that was going to happen, but experiencing it first-hand is different. It put into stark relief the reality that Palestinians face and the privilege that I possess.
Even the bus ride to the checkpoint is telling. It isn't an Egged bus (the national bus company) that transports Palestinians, they have their own company, and the buses are in much worse condition. They are actually much closer to the buses I remember from Jordan - more like big vans with manual transmissions that were probably built in the 1970s or 80s. It was kind of fun to ride them, but it makes it so painfully obvious that Palestinians are on a different level in Israeli society.
I got to the checkpoint at around 4pm, which is about the time everyone is coming home, so there were at least 100 people in line. As I was getting off the bus, the driver told me not to wait in line, but to go straight through in front of everyone. I was a little taken aback at first, but who I am kidding, I know that foreigners have a much easier time at the checkpoints. This was just confirmed as I pushed my way up. People just moved out of the way for me, I mean it's Israel, I had to push, but nobody tried to stop me from cutting in line. Then I got to the window where a couple of Palestinians were in front of me. When the guard realized I was American, he rushed me to a different window, looked at my passport for about 2 seconds and let me pass. It was very unsettling. I think I felt uncomfortable because a) I completely took advantage of my privilege, b) I felt humiliated for all of the people in line and have tried to imagine what life must be like to walk through that checkpoint daily and face the same dehumanizing reality, c) the checkpoint itself is a very institutionalized, sterile-looking building that is very unwelcoming, and d) walking out through it you are greeted with a huge 8 meter high separation barrier. Welcome to Bethlehem.
It is clear driving through Bethlehem that the economic situation is so different than that of Israel. Emily and I agreed that there is a certain charm to the 25 year-old cars, the construction of the buildings, the leftover Christmas decorations. But it is unsettling to know that less than 5 miles away, literally on the other side of the wall, is a more prosperous and developed, economically sound country. And while the occupation isn't the only reason for the difference, it is certainly a significant factor.
Going back through the checkpoint was also uncomfortable, but mostly because it felt deserted and I wasn't really sure what I was doing. In no-man's land, between exiting Bethlehem and entering the building to get to Israel, I saw someone being transferred from one ambulance to another. One of the Palestinians told us a story about how her grandfather was very ill and had to be taken to a hospital in Jerusalem from the West Bank. It was a huge ordeal and a traumatic experience for the family. Instead of getting straight to the hospital, her grandfather had to be taken out of one ambulance at the checkpoint, id checked, and then moved to the next ambulance to be taken, finally, to the hospital. Seeing this pair of ambulances made that story very real to me. The biggest difference was that I was the only onlooker because it was happening late at night, whereas during the day, the humiliation was seen by many.
So, I'm really glad that I went to Bethlehem to see Emily, who seems so happy to be there. But it brought up a lot of issues that were prevalent for me at the Machon that I've sort of pushed to the back of my mind recently. I've been immersed in a Jewish community for the past couple of weeks in which it is fairly simple to avoid dealing with such issues. It was a good wake up call for me. I will need to make an effort to continue struggling with these issues when I return to the States. I realize that being 7,000 miles away will change the nature of the conversation and how I engage in it, but it is imperative to do so.
Friday, February 27, 2009
Saturday, February 21, 2009
What Will I Miss?
As the inevitable departure date approaches, I have been thinking a lot more (and have had many conversations) about both what I am excited for when I get back to the States and what I will miss from Israel. Being here has definitely made me appreciate things about America and my community. Preparing to leave Israel has also made me more aware of the things about Israel that I love. I can only imagine what it will be like when I'm actually gone...
I've decided that I want to make a running list of what I am counting the days to return to and what I will be sad to say goodbye to (with commentary, of course).
Yay America:
- English!!!! Don't get me wrong, I love Hebrew, but it will be nice to understand someone when they ask you a question.
- Good coffee - I never want to see Nescafe again!
- Customer service - whoever said "the customer is always right" has never been to Israel
- Less bureaucracy Ok, maybe the Social Security Administration gets close to the incompetence and unnecessary red tape as pretty much anywhere in Israel, but it's so prevalent here...what did one of my friend's say? Israel is a first-world country with a third-world government or something like that.
- A number of food items including good chocolate, bagels, hard cheese, luna bars
- Lines - yes, I love order (maybe it's the German in me)
- So sad to miss both the elections and the inauguration, but thank goodness I'm coming back to Obama as president
Yay Israel:
- Friends, of course
- Some really great davening (praying)
- Shabbat - they know how to do it right here
- Remember the third-world country stuff? Well, it has some advantages. Even though the bureaucracy is infuriating, if you yell and push enough, you probably get what you want
- Fresh, cheap produce...how I love you. Produce stands on every corner, outdoor markets with amazing fruits, veggies, and bread...mmm, I'm going through withdrawal just thinking about it
- Egged - Well, I don't love egged per se, but interstate public transportation is quite impressive
A quick example of the ridiculousness of how things are run in this country: we asked the person at the ticket counter when buses to Tzfat were, and he told us we would have to ask the employee at the customer service window (who was sitting directly behind him). If he's selling the tickets, why wouldn't he know when the buses leave?
- I've gotten really good at Jewish geography
- Despite all of the complaints about kibbutz food, I loved the fact that there was a full salad bar at every meal with at least tomatoes, cucumbers, carrots, peppers, and cabbage - salad with breakfast, who would've thought?
- Tahina - I can't believe I'm saying it. I used to hate tahina, but it's so good and it's a staple in this country.
- Easy access to relatively inexpensive and delicious dried fruit and nuts including exotic things such as dried pomello, dried kumquat, chinese pecans, various date varieties, etc.
There are so many more things that I will miss about each place...perhaps I'll update the list in the near future. In the meantime I'll cherish my last week here and look forward to finally drinking a decent latte...
I've decided that I want to make a running list of what I am counting the days to return to and what I will be sad to say goodbye to (with commentary, of course).
Yay America:
- English!!!! Don't get me wrong, I love Hebrew, but it will be nice to understand someone when they ask you a question.
- Good coffee - I never want to see Nescafe again!
- Customer service - whoever said "the customer is always right" has never been to Israel
- Less bureaucracy Ok, maybe the Social Security Administration gets close to the incompetence and unnecessary red tape as pretty much anywhere in Israel, but it's so prevalent here...what did one of my friend's say? Israel is a first-world country with a third-world government or something like that.
- A number of food items including good chocolate, bagels, hard cheese, luna bars
- Lines - yes, I love order (maybe it's the German in me)
- So sad to miss both the elections and the inauguration, but thank goodness I'm coming back to Obama as president
Yay Israel:
- Friends, of course
- Some really great davening (praying)
- Shabbat - they know how to do it right here
- Remember the third-world country stuff? Well, it has some advantages. Even though the bureaucracy is infuriating, if you yell and push enough, you probably get what you want
- Fresh, cheap produce...how I love you. Produce stands on every corner, outdoor markets with amazing fruits, veggies, and bread...mmm, I'm going through withdrawal just thinking about it
- Egged - Well, I don't love egged per se, but interstate public transportation is quite impressive
A quick example of the ridiculousness of how things are run in this country: we asked the person at the ticket counter when buses to Tzfat were, and he told us we would have to ask the employee at the customer service window (who was sitting directly behind him). If he's selling the tickets, why wouldn't he know when the buses leave?
- I've gotten really good at Jewish geography
- Despite all of the complaints about kibbutz food, I loved the fact that there was a full salad bar at every meal with at least tomatoes, cucumbers, carrots, peppers, and cabbage - salad with breakfast, who would've thought?
- Tahina - I can't believe I'm saying it. I used to hate tahina, but it's so good and it's a staple in this country.
- Easy access to relatively inexpensive and delicious dried fruit and nuts including exotic things such as dried pomello, dried kumquat, chinese pecans, various date varieties, etc.
There are so many more things that I will miss about each place...perhaps I'll update the list in the near future. In the meantime I'll cherish my last week here and look forward to finally drinking a decent latte...
Saturday, February 14, 2009
More Questions
I've been thinking a lot about my religious practice since coming to Israel, not surprisingly, but it has been more on the front of my mind now that I am returning to the States in about 2 weeks. After spending Shabbat in Ra'anana (a small city north of Tel Aviv) with a friend, I have realized how ambivalent I am about the question. I know that Judaism plays a central role in my life and that religious observance is important to me, I am just not quite sure how I see that playing out. I don't think I really identify as a Reform Jew anymore, but I also do not feel bound by halakhah. I do know that I love traditional kabbalat shabbat services, and I'm not sure where I will find that in Seattle. I also know that I will not be able to continue being shomer shabbat in the US. I'm not even sure I would want to, if I felt that I could.
In a previous post I wrote about some of the wonderful non-egalitarian services that I have attended here, but I am realizing that it is not so easy to find in Israel, either. I went to two different shuls in Ra'anana and I had problems with each. Again, it wasn't the mehitzah that I found troubling, it was the atmosphere and, I think, the role that women play in the Orthodox community. On Friday night, it was a side-by-side mehitzah, and on Saturday (at a South African synagogue) women sat in the balcony. I was really frustrated with the fact that the women hardly participated in either. I could only really hear myself and Deborah singing (aside from the men, of course). And I could not see, and could barely hear, the guest rabbi's dvar because he was speaking to the men's side of the room. I found the energy at the South African shul to be much better, but I had trouble getting past the fact that I was above watching the men, making me feel as though I was not really involved in the service, but a mere observer.
I think I was also turned off by the South African shul because of the shiur given by the rabbi after the service. The portion was Jethro, and he juxtaposed Jethro to the Amalek kingdom from the previous chapter. He basically said that these are the two ways in which gentiles can act towards the Jews, the former being those who look out for the best interests of "Am Yisrael" (the people of Israel) and the latter being those who try to destroy the Jewish people. He then compared the Nazis to Amaleks and talked about the disproportionate reaction by the international community to Israel's actions in Gaza. I got really frustrated with his comparison to the Holocaust, not because I think it is unfounded. I'm not entirely sure why it frustrated me so much, perhaps it has something to do with how the Holocaust is so much a part of the Israeli consciousness and it acts as such an emotional trigger for most all Ashkenazik Israelis. I felt as though the rabbi could have just as easily made his point without the reference.
I was also frustrated with his crticism of the international community. He seemed to imply that the criticism was based on anti-semitism and completely unfounded, that Israel was unfairly being portrayed as the "bad guy" but really had no choice in its actions. This position is common throughout Israel, so I'm not surprised that he said it, but I take issue with it. At the very least, I take issue with the fact that any criticism of Israel is automatically associated with anti semitism or a wish for the demise of the Jews. It leaves no room for discussion.
Going back to the question of religious practice, it seems clear that I know what I like (and don't like) in terms of praying, but I am still trying to figure out my level of observance in everyday life. I have been thinking about this a lot, but I think after this Shabbat I am able to articulate it much better. I love the idea (or the essence or the purpose) of Shabbat - a day of rest - but I tend to find it to be much more stressful when I am in a traditionally observant setting. Why? I thought it might be because I didn't know everything that I could or could not do. But I have been in the situation enough times now to be comfortable with what is kosher.
I have decided that what I find most problematic (and now that I say this, it sounds like a "well, duh" sort of statement) that the effort of separating Shabbat from the rest of the week has gone too far. If I am going to follow the letter of the law, it will be impossible for me to capture the spirit of it. If I have to make sure to have pre-ripped toilet paper or not to rip or cut my finger nails, it has gone too far. I slept in the living room over Shabbat and the lights were on an automatic timer, but they couldn't remember when the timer was set for. The lights went out just before midnight, but I basically had to wait and hope that they would actually go out. And then, what if I had wanted to keep reading? I guess I could have gone to the bathroom because that light stays on throughout the night.
I love that I make a conscious decision not to worry about my scholarship essays and that I go for a day without checking my email, but all of the small injunctions meant to sanctify the day often end up creating a level of tension that I find off putting. It is helpful that I've been able to define what I like more concretely and that I will have the flexibility to create a Shabbat space that I feel comfortable with in the States. With this approach I could easily be accused of just picking and choosing, that I am just doing what I like or what is convenient. I guess my argument would be that I am doing what is spiritually fulfilling, what deepens my connection to my faith. It is not necessarily what is easiest, it is what is most meaningful.
In a previous post I wrote about some of the wonderful non-egalitarian services that I have attended here, but I am realizing that it is not so easy to find in Israel, either. I went to two different shuls in Ra'anana and I had problems with each. Again, it wasn't the mehitzah that I found troubling, it was the atmosphere and, I think, the role that women play in the Orthodox community. On Friday night, it was a side-by-side mehitzah, and on Saturday (at a South African synagogue) women sat in the balcony. I was really frustrated with the fact that the women hardly participated in either. I could only really hear myself and Deborah singing (aside from the men, of course). And I could not see, and could barely hear, the guest rabbi's dvar because he was speaking to the men's side of the room. I found the energy at the South African shul to be much better, but I had trouble getting past the fact that I was above watching the men, making me feel as though I was not really involved in the service, but a mere observer.
I think I was also turned off by the South African shul because of the shiur given by the rabbi after the service. The portion was Jethro, and he juxtaposed Jethro to the Amalek kingdom from the previous chapter. He basically said that these are the two ways in which gentiles can act towards the Jews, the former being those who look out for the best interests of "Am Yisrael" (the people of Israel) and the latter being those who try to destroy the Jewish people. He then compared the Nazis to Amaleks and talked about the disproportionate reaction by the international community to Israel's actions in Gaza. I got really frustrated with his comparison to the Holocaust, not because I think it is unfounded. I'm not entirely sure why it frustrated me so much, perhaps it has something to do with how the Holocaust is so much a part of the Israeli consciousness and it acts as such an emotional trigger for most all Ashkenazik Israelis. I felt as though the rabbi could have just as easily made his point without the reference.
I was also frustrated with his crticism of the international community. He seemed to imply that the criticism was based on anti-semitism and completely unfounded, that Israel was unfairly being portrayed as the "bad guy" but really had no choice in its actions. This position is common throughout Israel, so I'm not surprised that he said it, but I take issue with it. At the very least, I take issue with the fact that any criticism of Israel is automatically associated with anti semitism or a wish for the demise of the Jews. It leaves no room for discussion.
Going back to the question of religious practice, it seems clear that I know what I like (and don't like) in terms of praying, but I am still trying to figure out my level of observance in everyday life. I have been thinking about this a lot, but I think after this Shabbat I am able to articulate it much better. I love the idea (or the essence or the purpose) of Shabbat - a day of rest - but I tend to find it to be much more stressful when I am in a traditionally observant setting. Why? I thought it might be because I didn't know everything that I could or could not do. But I have been in the situation enough times now to be comfortable with what is kosher.
I have decided that what I find most problematic (and now that I say this, it sounds like a "well, duh" sort of statement) that the effort of separating Shabbat from the rest of the week has gone too far. If I am going to follow the letter of the law, it will be impossible for me to capture the spirit of it. If I have to make sure to have pre-ripped toilet paper or not to rip or cut my finger nails, it has gone too far. I slept in the living room over Shabbat and the lights were on an automatic timer, but they couldn't remember when the timer was set for. The lights went out just before midnight, but I basically had to wait and hope that they would actually go out. And then, what if I had wanted to keep reading? I guess I could have gone to the bathroom because that light stays on throughout the night.
I love that I make a conscious decision not to worry about my scholarship essays and that I go for a day without checking my email, but all of the small injunctions meant to sanctify the day often end up creating a level of tension that I find off putting. It is helpful that I've been able to define what I like more concretely and that I will have the flexibility to create a Shabbat space that I feel comfortable with in the States. With this approach I could easily be accused of just picking and choosing, that I am just doing what I like or what is convenient. I guess my argument would be that I am doing what is spiritually fulfilling, what deepens my connection to my faith. It is not necessarily what is easiest, it is what is most meaningful.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
What a Week
I just returned from a week long trip in Tel Aviv and Tzfat with Anna and Aaron. We had some crazy adventures, especially in Tzfat. I feel as though I should start from the beginning, but I think the more interesting - or at least memorable - parts of the trip happened in Tzfat. I'll give a few highlights of Tel Aviv, though.
We stayed near the beach, about a 5 minute walk from the shuk (outdoor market) and a 30 minute walk to Old Yaffo. We went to Yaffo and had the pleasure of bargaining. Well, Anna is really good at bargaining. I'm not the best and needed her coaching, but I did manage to get a really beautiful piece of hand-embroidered tapestry. We had a few very funny experiences. Anna was stopped by one of the shop owners in the market and was roped into buying a piece of costume jewellery. She said that he was first asking for 80 NIS, he said he would put a lighter to it to prove that it was real, and he eventually pulled her into his shop and said, "for you, 30 shekel, but don't tell anyone." She felt badly and ended up buying it. She even said at the end of the interaction he shook her hand as if saying he respected her bargaining abilities.
We decided that we would cook all of our meals in Tel Aviv to save money, but we splurged in Yaffo and had lunch at Dr. Shakshuka. It was amazing! The lunch included bread, hummus, different salads, couscous, soup, a bean dish, lamb (kabob, etc). We ate so much it felt as though we wouldn't have to eat again for a week.
Thursday night we wanted to go out dancing, and instead of staying out all night, we ended up coming back to the hostel and talking about choseness and Judaism until 5 am. We are so cool.
Then we went to Tzfat Friday morning. It was a trip. We stayed at a Chabad-run hostel over Shabbat and then moved elsewhere on Saturday night to maintain our sanity. We got into Tzfat less than an hour before Shabbat started, so it was kind of hectic. And we missed the class. The hostel puts on daily classes about kabbalism and Judaism, which technically aren't required, but just about every time I saw someone affiliated with the hostel, they asked if I was going a class. Enough already!
They set us up with home hospitality for Shabbat dinner. With a very frum, Lubavitcher family. The husband teaches at a seminary and four girls (just out of high school) also came to the dinner. It was so awkward! Not only did they make very little conversation, but us women-folk were not allowed to participate in making any blessings, singing any songs, or really being acknowledged as human beings. I mean, the two men at the table waited for Aaron to touch the challah before they said motzi, but didn't hand any of the women benchers (kiddush and song books) or wait for Anna to say the blessing after the meal. And when Aaron tried to help clear the table, he was informed that it wasn't his place to do so. But Anna, the seminary girls, and myself dutifully helped in the kitchen. As you can imagine with two feminists, this was not the most pleasant experience and caused a great deal of discussion afterwards. It also wasn't the last of such incidents. We tried to go to services in the morning at a famous Sephardic shul, but the women's section was so small and crowded that Anna and I couldn't get in. We ended up going for a walk to the old citadel, which gives an amazing view of the city and the hills surrounding it.
The class before lunch and lunch itself didn't fair much better. But we did learn from one of the Lubavitcher Rebbes that it is, in fact, ok and encouraged for women to sing just so long as he can hear his own voice first. The men all started dancing at one point while all the women sat and watched. I was so tempted to join in (hehe).
After Shabbat we went to a different hostel, which was much better, and had a really nice Tu Bishvat Seder. It reminded me of a combination of Avodah and the Machon. We sat on the floor and sang songs (including Adamah v'Shamayim and Od Yavoh Shalom Aleinu) and talked about the origin of the Tu Bishvat seder (which started in Tzfat). We then went through the seven fruits of Israel and talked about their significance. The people were interesting, the food was good, and the atmosphere was so relaxed.
We explored the city a bit on Sunday, which mainly consisted of following the "Tzfat cheese" signs, or "Safed Cheese," "Tzfat Cheeze," "Saffed cheeze" or some other variation. It isn't a big city, but it took us a good amount of time to get through the maze and actually find this crazy shop. It was worth it, though. Their cheese and olives are amazing!
We finally managed to go on our hike on Monday. Tzfat is in an amazingly beautiful part of the country. I have really missed being among hills, trees, green. We hiked for a good 5 hours even though it took us about 2 hours to find the trail we were looking for. We hiked the Nahal Amud trail and along the way we found a number of rebbes' graves (which are painted a bright blue) and some ruins.
The final adventure occurred on our way home. A man who works at the hostel kindly offered us a ride to Jerusalem. As we were leaving it started to hail, which later turned into pouring-down rain. It's good in the sense that Israel is in desperate need of rain, but I do not trust Israeli drivers. And then he had car problems the whole way back, and he held his phone in one hand and his coffee mug in the other. And it took us about an hour from the time he said he was ready to leave to actually start driving out of Tzfat. But I'm finally getting used to Middle Eastern Standard Time, so I guess I would have been surprised by antything else.
Overall it was a great trip. A true bonding experience. We also came out of it with a lot of inside jokes. And you really can't beat that.
We stayed near the beach, about a 5 minute walk from the shuk (outdoor market) and a 30 minute walk to Old Yaffo. We went to Yaffo and had the pleasure of bargaining. Well, Anna is really good at bargaining. I'm not the best and needed her coaching, but I did manage to get a really beautiful piece of hand-embroidered tapestry. We had a few very funny experiences. Anna was stopped by one of the shop owners in the market and was roped into buying a piece of costume jewellery. She said that he was first asking for 80 NIS, he said he would put a lighter to it to prove that it was real, and he eventually pulled her into his shop and said, "for you, 30 shekel, but don't tell anyone." She felt badly and ended up buying it. She even said at the end of the interaction he shook her hand as if saying he respected her bargaining abilities.
We decided that we would cook all of our meals in Tel Aviv to save money, but we splurged in Yaffo and had lunch at Dr. Shakshuka. It was amazing! The lunch included bread, hummus, different salads, couscous, soup, a bean dish, lamb (kabob, etc). We ate so much it felt as though we wouldn't have to eat again for a week.
Thursday night we wanted to go out dancing, and instead of staying out all night, we ended up coming back to the hostel and talking about choseness and Judaism until 5 am. We are so cool.
Then we went to Tzfat Friday morning. It was a trip. We stayed at a Chabad-run hostel over Shabbat and then moved elsewhere on Saturday night to maintain our sanity. We got into Tzfat less than an hour before Shabbat started, so it was kind of hectic. And we missed the class. The hostel puts on daily classes about kabbalism and Judaism, which technically aren't required, but just about every time I saw someone affiliated with the hostel, they asked if I was going a class. Enough already!
They set us up with home hospitality for Shabbat dinner. With a very frum, Lubavitcher family. The husband teaches at a seminary and four girls (just out of high school) also came to the dinner. It was so awkward! Not only did they make very little conversation, but us women-folk were not allowed to participate in making any blessings, singing any songs, or really being acknowledged as human beings. I mean, the two men at the table waited for Aaron to touch the challah before they said motzi, but didn't hand any of the women benchers (kiddush and song books) or wait for Anna to say the blessing after the meal. And when Aaron tried to help clear the table, he was informed that it wasn't his place to do so. But Anna, the seminary girls, and myself dutifully helped in the kitchen. As you can imagine with two feminists, this was not the most pleasant experience and caused a great deal of discussion afterwards. It also wasn't the last of such incidents. We tried to go to services in the morning at a famous Sephardic shul, but the women's section was so small and crowded that Anna and I couldn't get in. We ended up going for a walk to the old citadel, which gives an amazing view of the city and the hills surrounding it.
The class before lunch and lunch itself didn't fair much better. But we did learn from one of the Lubavitcher Rebbes that it is, in fact, ok and encouraged for women to sing just so long as he can hear his own voice first. The men all started dancing at one point while all the women sat and watched. I was so tempted to join in (hehe).
After Shabbat we went to a different hostel, which was much better, and had a really nice Tu Bishvat Seder. It reminded me of a combination of Avodah and the Machon. We sat on the floor and sang songs (including Adamah v'Shamayim and Od Yavoh Shalom Aleinu) and talked about the origin of the Tu Bishvat seder (which started in Tzfat). We then went through the seven fruits of Israel and talked about their significance. The people were interesting, the food was good, and the atmosphere was so relaxed.
We explored the city a bit on Sunday, which mainly consisted of following the "Tzfat cheese" signs, or "Safed Cheese," "Tzfat Cheeze," "Saffed cheeze" or some other variation. It isn't a big city, but it took us a good amount of time to get through the maze and actually find this crazy shop. It was worth it, though. Their cheese and olives are amazing!
We finally managed to go on our hike on Monday. Tzfat is in an amazingly beautiful part of the country. I have really missed being among hills, trees, green. We hiked for a good 5 hours even though it took us about 2 hours to find the trail we were looking for. We hiked the Nahal Amud trail and along the way we found a number of rebbes' graves (which are painted a bright blue) and some ruins.
The final adventure occurred on our way home. A man who works at the hostel kindly offered us a ride to Jerusalem. As we were leaving it started to hail, which later turned into pouring-down rain. It's good in the sense that Israel is in desperate need of rain, but I do not trust Israeli drivers. And then he had car problems the whole way back, and he held his phone in one hand and his coffee mug in the other. And it took us about an hour from the time he said he was ready to leave to actually start driving out of Tzfat. But I'm finally getting used to Middle Eastern Standard Time, so I guess I would have been surprised by antything else.
Overall it was a great trip. A true bonding experience. We also came out of it with a lot of inside jokes. And you really can't beat that.
Monday, February 2, 2009
Shabbat in Jerusalem
I've been meaning to write for the past few days. I left the Kibbutz of Friday and have been in Jerusalem since. It hasn't fully sunk in that the program is actually over. We had a number of goodbye-like activities including a really fun final party. We also had to clean out our rooms, so it obviously felt as though we were leaving. And lots of people left early, so campus felt pretty empty. Even though it's been a few days, I haven't really even started to process my experiences at the Machon. Maybe once I return to the States it will start happening (which will be the beginning of March). In the meantime, I will be traveling throughout Israel and taking advantage of this last month here. I've decided that I will just enjoy February and worry about thinking and processing later.
It seems to be working so far. I had an amazing Shabbat in Jerusalem. I'm staying in Anna's apartment on and off until I leave. We went to Yakar for Kabbalat Shabbat services, and it was one of the most moving spiritual/religious experiences that I have ever had. It is an Orthodox shul with a non-egal service, but I still found it to be really incredible. I find at a lot of Conservative and Orthodox shuls that people are in a rush to get through the prayers as quickly as possible, something that takes away from the service for me. But at Yakar they seem to savor each prayer, and they sing a lot. Not only do they sing all of the psalms, etc, but they have really beautiful niggunim that they intersperse in the service. There was also so much energy around me. I was so caught up in the music and the prayers that I felt transported to a different place. I don't really know how to describe it, but it was a very powerful experience. And afterwards, I had dinner with Anna and a few friends. It was an intimate and beautiful Friday night.
Before coming to Israel I had serious issues with non-egal services. Every time I went in the States, I had trouble getting past the fact that men and women couldn't sit next to each other and became resentful, which just ruined the whole experience. But since coming to Israel, I have realized that praying just with women can be really beautiful. Don't get me wrong, there are some really bad non-egal services, but it isn't because men and women can't sit together, it is the service in general - the atmosphere, the way the mechitza is setup, the participation of women in the community, etc. I have also been exposed to the orthodox world much more and my perception of it has changed significantly. I have a much greater appreciation for traditional practice, following halakha, etc. than I used to. I'm not planning on becoming orthodox (don't worry mom) but I can see why some choose to do so.
I am living with people who are shomer Shabbat and who keep a kosher home. There is definitely a level of intention and awareness that I feel when I am here. I don't know if it is because I did not grow up with such rules, so I have to actively think about it, or if it is something one always thinks about more. I mean, I have to think about which plate I am going to use for a meal - meat, dairy, or parve - which sponge to use when I wash it, and where to put the dishes once I'm done with them. On Shabbat, don't turn on or off lights. Wasn't I yelled at for leaving lights on as a kid? It's a very different lifestyle in many ways, but I am very grateful that I have the opportunity to experience for a while.
I'm leaving for Tel Aviv tomorrow for a few days...
It seems to be working so far. I had an amazing Shabbat in Jerusalem. I'm staying in Anna's apartment on and off until I leave. We went to Yakar for Kabbalat Shabbat services, and it was one of the most moving spiritual/religious experiences that I have ever had. It is an Orthodox shul with a non-egal service, but I still found it to be really incredible. I find at a lot of Conservative and Orthodox shuls that people are in a rush to get through the prayers as quickly as possible, something that takes away from the service for me. But at Yakar they seem to savor each prayer, and they sing a lot. Not only do they sing all of the psalms, etc, but they have really beautiful niggunim that they intersperse in the service. There was also so much energy around me. I was so caught up in the music and the prayers that I felt transported to a different place. I don't really know how to describe it, but it was a very powerful experience. And afterwards, I had dinner with Anna and a few friends. It was an intimate and beautiful Friday night.
Before coming to Israel I had serious issues with non-egal services. Every time I went in the States, I had trouble getting past the fact that men and women couldn't sit next to each other and became resentful, which just ruined the whole experience. But since coming to Israel, I have realized that praying just with women can be really beautiful. Don't get me wrong, there are some really bad non-egal services, but it isn't because men and women can't sit together, it is the service in general - the atmosphere, the way the mechitza is setup, the participation of women in the community, etc. I have also been exposed to the orthodox world much more and my perception of it has changed significantly. I have a much greater appreciation for traditional practice, following halakha, etc. than I used to. I'm not planning on becoming orthodox (don't worry mom) but I can see why some choose to do so.
I am living with people who are shomer Shabbat and who keep a kosher home. There is definitely a level of intention and awareness that I feel when I am here. I don't know if it is because I did not grow up with such rules, so I have to actively think about it, or if it is something one always thinks about more. I mean, I have to think about which plate I am going to use for a meal - meat, dairy, or parve - which sponge to use when I wash it, and where to put the dishes once I'm done with them. On Shabbat, don't turn on or off lights. Wasn't I yelled at for leaving lights on as a kid? It's a very different lifestyle in many ways, but I am very grateful that I have the opportunity to experience for a while.
I'm leaving for Tel Aviv tomorrow for a few days...
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
The End is in Sight
The end of the semester is quickly approaching with only three days left. The last final was today, we have our faculty v. student soccer game and final party tomorrow, and we pack up on Thursday. Not surprisingly, I'm feeling a little bit anxious and "pre-nostalgic" (as Elinor so eloquently put it). I am more than ready to leave in some ways, but in others, I am really sad to be going. The people are the best part of this program. I've made some really great relationships and had the privilege of getting to know some very special and interesting people. We've also had some really good times here despite the frustrations and difficulties.
I am responsible for putting together the yearbook. Don't ask me why I agreed to do it. Let's just say it was in a moment of mental lapse that I decided it would be fun. Not that I'm not enjoying it, but as with everything else here, it's hectic and last minute. Getting others to work on portions of the yearbook was like pulling teeth. In fairness, though, some have been really great about contributing. Anyway, the point is that I have been looking through hundreds of pictures and thinking about what should be documented. It has helped me remember how much fun I actually have had here. With finals, a war, and figuring out what comes next (a saga in itself), it has become easy to focus on the frustrating, dysfunctional parts of the program.
But what about our impromtu parties? Hikes in the mountains? Nargila and araq? The tiul? We did a lot at the beginning of the year that seemed to trail off as winter (if you can call it that) set in and as academics began to control our lives. I haven't done nearly as much hiking recently, but I have been baking a lot with Elana, which has been amazing. We've also been doing Saturday morning breakfast club, mmm french toast.
Looking back has also made me think about how my relationships with people have developed. I came here with certain expectations and goals about gaining new perspective and understanding about the conflict and how it affects the lives of Israelis and Palestinians. There is definitely a component of that at the Machon, but in some ways it isn't the focus, and I've realized that it shouldn't be. One of the Israelis articulated it well for me when she said that it's really nice for her just to be friends with Palestinians, to not have to talk about the conflict all the time. We're all people, we can connect in other ways. She's right, and it made me relax a bit about the fact that it isn't always the focus here. But I also realized during the war that talking about it is also important. Build the foundation - the friendship and trust - and then you can talk about the hard stuff with more empathy and without demonizing the other. Because how can you demonize your friends?
This wasn't supposed to turn into a philsophical post, I've just been thinking a lot about the fact that I have had some amazing experiences these past few months, and they are definitely something I will cherish. I'll even cherish the very frustrating and infuriating moments - also memorialized in Yalla - that have turned into some great inside jokes. Too bad I won't be with the people who will understand them soon...
I am responsible for putting together the yearbook. Don't ask me why I agreed to do it. Let's just say it was in a moment of mental lapse that I decided it would be fun. Not that I'm not enjoying it, but as with everything else here, it's hectic and last minute. Getting others to work on portions of the yearbook was like pulling teeth. In fairness, though, some have been really great about contributing. Anyway, the point is that I have been looking through hundreds of pictures and thinking about what should be documented. It has helped me remember how much fun I actually have had here. With finals, a war, and figuring out what comes next (a saga in itself), it has become easy to focus on the frustrating, dysfunctional parts of the program.
But what about our impromtu parties? Hikes in the mountains? Nargila and araq? The tiul? We did a lot at the beginning of the year that seemed to trail off as winter (if you can call it that) set in and as academics began to control our lives. I haven't done nearly as much hiking recently, but I have been baking a lot with Elana, which has been amazing. We've also been doing Saturday morning breakfast club, mmm french toast.
Looking back has also made me think about how my relationships with people have developed. I came here with certain expectations and goals about gaining new perspective and understanding about the conflict and how it affects the lives of Israelis and Palestinians. There is definitely a component of that at the Machon, but in some ways it isn't the focus, and I've realized that it shouldn't be. One of the Israelis articulated it well for me when she said that it's really nice for her just to be friends with Palestinians, to not have to talk about the conflict all the time. We're all people, we can connect in other ways. She's right, and it made me relax a bit about the fact that it isn't always the focus here. But I also realized during the war that talking about it is also important. Build the foundation - the friendship and trust - and then you can talk about the hard stuff with more empathy and without demonizing the other. Because how can you demonize your friends?
This wasn't supposed to turn into a philsophical post, I've just been thinking a lot about the fact that I have had some amazing experiences these past few months, and they are definitely something I will cherish. I'll even cherish the very frustrating and infuriating moments - also memorialized in Yalla - that have turned into some great inside jokes. Too bad I won't be with the people who will understand them soon...
Friday, January 23, 2009
Mmm, Granola
My very own granola! Well, Anna and I made it together, and we adapted it from some other recipes, but for all intents and purposes, I have my own recipe! The Machon put on a party for the kibbutz children today and I agreed to make some of the food. I made tahina cookies (sooo good...I can't take the credit for this recipe, though). They are basically shortbread cookies with Tahina, and they don't use any eggs. Anyway, I also decided to make granola. It seemed fitting given that we are a bunch of crunchy environmentalists.
We also made pita. The dough is so easy - basically flour, water, salt. We made the dough in advance and then gave little balls each of the kids so that they could bake it themselves. I don't know what the contraption is called that we use to bake it, but it looks like an upside down wok that is placed over an open fire. We brought chocolate spread, date spread, honey, zaatar, and labneh as toppings. And Lior made some delicious herbal tea.
Homemade Pita!
And the fixings
The rest of the party also turned out to be a great success...there was mud building (which just turned into the kids taking mud baths), arts and crafts, face painting, and some musical instruments. I was really surprised at how everything came together so easily. I guess it's fairly easy to entertain children when getting dirty and food is involved.
Mud building got a little out of hand
It was a nice change from the normal tense relationship that we have with the kibbutz. Although, we may have made things worse for ourselves when they find out how hard it is to get all of that mud out of their kids' hair and clothing.
Anyway, here is the granola recipe:
3 cups rolled oats
3/4 - 1 c. almonds (chopped - or crushed with an empty wine bottle because we couldn't find a decent knife)
3/4 - 1 c. pecans (chopped)
cinnamon (unfortunately I don't know how much of the spices I put in, I was eyeballing it)
nutmeg
3-4 T. vegetable oil
6 T. maple syrup
2 T. honey
1 t. vanilla extract
1.5 c. dried fruit (I used cranberries and chopped apricots)
Preheat oven to 350. Mix oats, nuts, spices. In separate bowl mix wet ingredients then pour into dry mixture. If it looks dry add a bit more oil. Spread into baking dish. Stir it every 10 minutes or so - Anna explained that you have to move all of the granola away from the edges and then stir it and spread it out again to stop the outside from burning. It should take about 30 minutes until it is ready. Once it has cooled some add the dried fruit.
Mmmm...I hope there is some left from the party!
We also made pita. The dough is so easy - basically flour, water, salt. We made the dough in advance and then gave little balls each of the kids so that they could bake it themselves. I don't know what the contraption is called that we use to bake it, but it looks like an upside down wok that is placed over an open fire. We brought chocolate spread, date spread, honey, zaatar, and labneh as toppings. And Lior made some delicious herbal tea.
Homemade Pita!
And the fixings
The rest of the party also turned out to be a great success...there was mud building (which just turned into the kids taking mud baths), arts and crafts, face painting, and some musical instruments. I was really surprised at how everything came together so easily. I guess it's fairly easy to entertain children when getting dirty and food is involved.
Mud building got a little out of hand
It was a nice change from the normal tense relationship that we have with the kibbutz. Although, we may have made things worse for ourselves when they find out how hard it is to get all of that mud out of their kids' hair and clothing.
Anyway, here is the granola recipe:
3 cups rolled oats
3/4 - 1 c. almonds (chopped - or crushed with an empty wine bottle because we couldn't find a decent knife)
3/4 - 1 c. pecans (chopped)
cinnamon (unfortunately I don't know how much of the spices I put in, I was eyeballing it)
nutmeg
3-4 T. vegetable oil
6 T. maple syrup
2 T. honey
1 t. vanilla extract
1.5 c. dried fruit (I used cranberries and chopped apricots)
Preheat oven to 350. Mix oats, nuts, spices. In separate bowl mix wet ingredients then pour into dry mixture. If it looks dry add a bit more oil. Spread into baking dish. Stir it every 10 minutes or so - Anna explained that you have to move all of the granola away from the edges and then stir it and spread it out again to stop the outside from burning. It should take about 30 minutes until it is ready. Once it has cooled some add the dried fruit.
Mmmm...I hope there is some left from the party!
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Tensions Rising
We've had our share of heated discussions throughout the year, but people are finally letting their guard down. I honestly expected it to happen much earlier in the semester, but I guess between having a relatively large group, people leaving on the weekends, and staying occupied with classes, we haven't had the chance to get on each other's nerves so much. That has finally started to change, though. I mean, among a few individuals it has already happened, but that can't be avoided. I'm talking about more widespread frustration and tension that has been building up and is starting to boil over within the group as a whole.
Gershon Baskin, founder and co-director of the Israel Palestine Center for Research and Information (IPCRI), came to speak to us about "the day after" or what possible scenorios will be when a ceasefire takes effect in Gaza. He came before the ceasefire was declared this week. He has done some really interesting work including working directly with Hamas in an effort to free Gilad Shalit, the soldier who was captured shortly before the beginning of the Israeli-Lebanese war in 2006. He ended up talking a fair amount about his role in the situation and his opinions on why Israel decided to invade Gaza, why the Israeli public is so supportive, etc.
The talk quickly deteriorated into a heated discussion between a number of students, mostly Arab and Israeli. There were a lot of triggers throughout the talk, and people reacted emotionally and directly at one another. Despite the fact that the academic director and executive director were sitting in on the discussion, very little facilitation occurred. Mr. Baskin literally had to yell above us to quiet everyone down on multiple occassions. It was intense.
The most controversial parts of the conversation were about Gilad Shalit and Palestinian prisoners. Why do Israelis care so much about one soldier? What message is it sending that the option of a prisoner exchange would be one soldier for hundreds of Palestinians? There was a lot of frustration over talking about the treatment of prisoners, how Hamas and the Israeli government are handling (or not) the situation, and how the Gaza invasion was affecting everything.
It was interesting to see the back-and-forth that occurred. We have had similarly difficult conversations, but they tend not to devolve into a shouting match. I think that people are finally able to start saying what they think without worrying about someone else not liking them. Between the increased comfort with each other and the incredibly high tension from both within and outside the Machon, it makes perfect sense to me that this would be happening now. What doesn't make sense to me is why the Machon hasn't done anything to address it. Maybe Avodah is too engrained in me, but there are ways of dealing with these issues in a constructive way. And since the Machon has been around for 10 years and has been dealing with these very issues, it seems that they would have some tools for us to use.
In the meantime, everyone is hibernating in their rooms studying for exams. But the end is in sight. It'll all be over next week...
Gershon Baskin, founder and co-director of the Israel Palestine Center for Research and Information (IPCRI), came to speak to us about "the day after" or what possible scenorios will be when a ceasefire takes effect in Gaza. He came before the ceasefire was declared this week. He has done some really interesting work including working directly with Hamas in an effort to free Gilad Shalit, the soldier who was captured shortly before the beginning of the Israeli-Lebanese war in 2006. He ended up talking a fair amount about his role in the situation and his opinions on why Israel decided to invade Gaza, why the Israeli public is so supportive, etc.
The talk quickly deteriorated into a heated discussion between a number of students, mostly Arab and Israeli. There were a lot of triggers throughout the talk, and people reacted emotionally and directly at one another. Despite the fact that the academic director and executive director were sitting in on the discussion, very little facilitation occurred. Mr. Baskin literally had to yell above us to quiet everyone down on multiple occassions. It was intense.
The most controversial parts of the conversation were about Gilad Shalit and Palestinian prisoners. Why do Israelis care so much about one soldier? What message is it sending that the option of a prisoner exchange would be one soldier for hundreds of Palestinians? There was a lot of frustration over talking about the treatment of prisoners, how Hamas and the Israeli government are handling (or not) the situation, and how the Gaza invasion was affecting everything.
It was interesting to see the back-and-forth that occurred. We have had similarly difficult conversations, but they tend not to devolve into a shouting match. I think that people are finally able to start saying what they think without worrying about someone else not liking them. Between the increased comfort with each other and the incredibly high tension from both within and outside the Machon, it makes perfect sense to me that this would be happening now. What doesn't make sense to me is why the Machon hasn't done anything to address it. Maybe Avodah is too engrained in me, but there are ways of dealing with these issues in a constructive way. And since the Machon has been around for 10 years and has been dealing with these very issues, it seems that they would have some tools for us to use.
In the meantime, everyone is hibernating in their rooms studying for exams. But the end is in sight. It'll all be over next week...
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
AIES Night
Despite the conflict raging 200km north of here, life has to go on. And our instructors haven't let us forget that. We're coming to the end of the semester, so final projects, papers, and exams are happening. We have plenty around here to keep us distracted from what is going on around us. Probably one of the best, though, was AIES night.
The students who did independent research projects and those pursuing a master's degree had the opportunity to present their findings to faculty, staff, and kibbutz members. It was really great to see the variety of projects and how creative people can be in their presentations. It was also really nice just to be able to watch and not have the pressure of showing my work as well.
You never know what to expect with Joel, and he didn't let us down this time. He started off the night as a coral. He has been diving all semester in the Gulf of Aqaba and trying to figure out how to best transplant soft corals so that a new reef can be built. He was so entertaining to watch, though, wearing a bright orange curtain and a red, pointy hat. As usual, he got lots of laughs from the crowd.
Sarit worked with compost. She tried to use a method that theoretically speeds up the time it takes for waste to breakdown into usable compost. It wasn't successful, but she has another semester to try. She passed around some good compost and a sample from her compost pile. Who would've thought that so much goes into have a good compost pile?
People talked about biogas, embodied energy, growing plants with hypersaline water, and how the desert ecosystem is affected by the date orchards. Two graduate students are doing their research on the Red Sea-Dead Sea Conduit, a proposal to take water from the Red Sea and pump it to the Dead Sea. The idea is that the water can be desalinated and used primarily by Jordan (which has very little drinkable water), that the leftover water can replenish the shrinking Dead Sea, and that it can act as a peace-building measure between the two countries to make the treat signed in 1994 more than a piece of paper. There are numerous concerns over the ecological and environmental impact of such a project, but it's an interesting idea.
We were also treated to organic snacks during the coffee break including some delicious feta cheese, homemade date bread and seed and nut bread, olives, halva, carrot cake, and cookies. I was so not hungry for dinner afterwards.
The entire evening was really fun and inspiring; a good pick-me-up after a few depressing weeks. Hopefully this is a sign that we're ending on a high note.
The students who did independent research projects and those pursuing a master's degree had the opportunity to present their findings to faculty, staff, and kibbutz members. It was really great to see the variety of projects and how creative people can be in their presentations. It was also really nice just to be able to watch and not have the pressure of showing my work as well.
You never know what to expect with Joel, and he didn't let us down this time. He started off the night as a coral. He has been diving all semester in the Gulf of Aqaba and trying to figure out how to best transplant soft corals so that a new reef can be built. He was so entertaining to watch, though, wearing a bright orange curtain and a red, pointy hat. As usual, he got lots of laughs from the crowd.
Sarit worked with compost. She tried to use a method that theoretically speeds up the time it takes for waste to breakdown into usable compost. It wasn't successful, but she has another semester to try. She passed around some good compost and a sample from her compost pile. Who would've thought that so much goes into have a good compost pile?
People talked about biogas, embodied energy, growing plants with hypersaline water, and how the desert ecosystem is affected by the date orchards. Two graduate students are doing their research on the Red Sea-Dead Sea Conduit, a proposal to take water from the Red Sea and pump it to the Dead Sea. The idea is that the water can be desalinated and used primarily by Jordan (which has very little drinkable water), that the leftover water can replenish the shrinking Dead Sea, and that it can act as a peace-building measure between the two countries to make the treat signed in 1994 more than a piece of paper. There are numerous concerns over the ecological and environmental impact of such a project, but it's an interesting idea.
We were also treated to organic snacks during the coffee break including some delicious feta cheese, homemade date bread and seed and nut bread, olives, halva, carrot cake, and cookies. I was so not hungry for dinner afterwards.
The entire evening was really fun and inspiring; a good pick-me-up after a few depressing weeks. Hopefully this is a sign that we're ending on a high note.
Friday, January 9, 2009
Marc Gropin
Marc Gopin, a professor a rabbi and an ambassador of sorts, came to speak to us earlier this week. He is the director of the Center for Religions, Diplomacy, and Conflict Resolution at George Mason University. I have to admit that when I heard he was going to talk about spirituality and conflict (or something like that) I was not expecting much more than some hippie dippy, peace and love sort of pow wow. But I was pleasantly surprised. Professor Gopin is a realist and has done some very impressive things to act on his beliefs, to use his skills and understanding of human nature to make tangible changes.
He talked about the shortfalls of current international relations theory and how it fails to adequately take into account that humans are involved in the process, that decisions made are often not rational or logical according to economic models, and that individuals really do have an incredible amount of power. When we think of individuals having power in the context of conflict, we often think of non-state actors, i.e. terrorists, and states emphasize this threat. Professor Gopin contends that the power of creative thinking and action is actually scarier and more dangerous for the state - they know how to deal with terrorists and what an "appropriate" response is to them, whereas someone looking to create positive change may mobilize people and weaken the regime. That being said, Gopin is suggesting that peace activists can be influential, both on the grassroots level and at the higher levels.
I say that he is an ambassador of sorts, because he has worked with some very influential government officials, and has been able to change how people perceive the conflict on his own and not through any official channels. Despite his independent status, he is seen by others as representing more. He has been working with the Syrians for the last several years and he told us of his first visit to the country. After a fairly adventurous trip up to the Syrian border (by way of Jordan) he was questioned by some of Assad's men. The first thing they said to him was something to the affect of "We've contacted your government (meaning the Israeli government) many times and haven't received a response. What do they have to say?" He was speechless. I never did have the opportunity to ask him how he answered them.
This association with another entity also worked to his advantage at times. When he did something powerful and meaningful, it reflected well on the Jewish people as a whole.
It sounds as though he worked closely with Yassir Arafat for a time. Gropin spoke highly of him in some ways. He said they learned together once. I think it was during the second intifada, but it wasn't entirely clear. Gropin visited Arafat in his compound in the West Bank, and at one point Gropin said to Arafat "without justice there can be no peace," taking a line from the Talmud (Sanhedrin, I think, but my knowledge of Jewish sources is quite limited). Arafat understood that Gropin was saying that without a just solution to the Palestinians' needs, there can be no peace. But Gropin finished the idea, "but without peace, there can be no justice" essentially rebuking Arafat for the violence that was occurring. It sounded like a very powerful moment.
I really liked a couple of other things that Gropin said about peace. First, he talked about the importance of complexity. It is much harder to hurt people, to kill them, to wish them ill when they are not all evil monsters. When complexity enters the picture, as it has here at the Institute, it becomes much more difficult to perpetuate violence. When relationships are formed, when internal dissonance and conflict arise and the world is no longer black and white, whether or not to shoot also becomes less black and white.
Gropin also said that we invest billions of dollars in war and only $100,000s in peace. No wonder peace isn't working. Imagine what could happen if we invested the same amount in peace building activities as we did in war. What would the world look like? Hey, I had to get the hippie dippie in somewhere :)
I feel as though I didn't do justice to the lecture Gropin gave, because he was so articulate. He has had some amazing experiences that I did not adequately capture here, but he was inspirational and really made me think about the nature of conflict and the potential for change.
He talked about the shortfalls of current international relations theory and how it fails to adequately take into account that humans are involved in the process, that decisions made are often not rational or logical according to economic models, and that individuals really do have an incredible amount of power. When we think of individuals having power in the context of conflict, we often think of non-state actors, i.e. terrorists, and states emphasize this threat. Professor Gopin contends that the power of creative thinking and action is actually scarier and more dangerous for the state - they know how to deal with terrorists and what an "appropriate" response is to them, whereas someone looking to create positive change may mobilize people and weaken the regime. That being said, Gopin is suggesting that peace activists can be influential, both on the grassroots level and at the higher levels.
I say that he is an ambassador of sorts, because he has worked with some very influential government officials, and has been able to change how people perceive the conflict on his own and not through any official channels. Despite his independent status, he is seen by others as representing more. He has been working with the Syrians for the last several years and he told us of his first visit to the country. After a fairly adventurous trip up to the Syrian border (by way of Jordan) he was questioned by some of Assad's men. The first thing they said to him was something to the affect of "We've contacted your government (meaning the Israeli government) many times and haven't received a response. What do they have to say?" He was speechless. I never did have the opportunity to ask him how he answered them.
This association with another entity also worked to his advantage at times. When he did something powerful and meaningful, it reflected well on the Jewish people as a whole.
It sounds as though he worked closely with Yassir Arafat for a time. Gropin spoke highly of him in some ways. He said they learned together once. I think it was during the second intifada, but it wasn't entirely clear. Gropin visited Arafat in his compound in the West Bank, and at one point Gropin said to Arafat "without justice there can be no peace," taking a line from the Talmud (Sanhedrin, I think, but my knowledge of Jewish sources is quite limited). Arafat understood that Gropin was saying that without a just solution to the Palestinians' needs, there can be no peace. But Gropin finished the idea, "but without peace, there can be no justice" essentially rebuking Arafat for the violence that was occurring. It sounded like a very powerful moment.
I really liked a couple of other things that Gropin said about peace. First, he talked about the importance of complexity. It is much harder to hurt people, to kill them, to wish them ill when they are not all evil monsters. When complexity enters the picture, as it has here at the Institute, it becomes much more difficult to perpetuate violence. When relationships are formed, when internal dissonance and conflict arise and the world is no longer black and white, whether or not to shoot also becomes less black and white.
Gropin also said that we invest billions of dollars in war and only $100,000s in peace. No wonder peace isn't working. Imagine what could happen if we invested the same amount in peace building activities as we did in war. What would the world look like? Hey, I had to get the hippie dippie in somewhere :)
I feel as though I didn't do justice to the lecture Gropin gave, because he was so articulate. He has had some amazing experiences that I did not adequately capture here, but he was inspirational and really made me think about the nature of conflict and the potential for change.
Saturday, January 3, 2009
Life during Gaza
I'm not sure that I have anything new to say right now even though it's been a really intense week here. I think I am still processing what has and is happening, so maybe this post will help me do that. The atmosphere has definitely changed over the last week, and I know that a lot of it has to do with the bombings in Gaza, but it is also close to the end of the semester and papers are due and exams are coming up, so the stress level would be noticeably higher anyway. That being said, people are trying to figure out how to continue living in this environment when they are being told by their families to come home, when they feel as though the attacks on Gaza are direct attacks against themselves and their families, and when they realize that they could very well be called up for reserve duty.
It is odd to be here with people who are so directly and personally affected by the events from both sides of the conflict. On the one hand, I see the Palestinians who really feel as though this is an attack against them, who see those being killed as part of them, even though their immediate families are not in immediate danger. I have seen a couple of them sitting in front of the computer watching the news all day long, literally. I completely understand that compulsion - I did that very thing during the invasion of Iraq in 2003. Michael was there, but we had no idea what he was doing, where he was, or when we would hear from him. The uncertainty and helplessness can make you feel as though you are going crazy. And what can you do? Watching the news will perhaps provide a sense of empowerment because you know what's going on, but what do you do with that information. It highlights what you don't know and just becomes torturous. I remember coming home from school, sitting in front of the TV, and not really being able to do anything else. It's a horrible feeling. And it is hard for me to watch other people do that to themselves. There is a point at which it has to stop and reinstituting a sense of normalcy into life must occur.
There are some very liberal Israelis here, to the point that they left their army service early or have refused to do reserve duty ever again (Israelis typically do reserve duty once a year for a month for 30 years - I think - after their army service). And then there are some Israelis who disagree with the occupation, but say they do not regret their time in the army and that they would do it again if they had to do it over. One of the more "right" Israelis who has always defended his military service and the importance of the IDF, may be called up to go to the Gazan border. For the first couple of days, he was very concerned about what he would do should he actually be asked to go. He told us that he has decided that he would refuse to go, because it wouldn't feel right. It isn't a question of loyalty or patriotism, it is a question of current circumstances. He couldn't go fight and potentially kill Arabs when he is living with them and has created friendships and connections.
As one of the other Israelis said to me, how can we look the Arab students in the face? Everyone here condemns the violence on both sides, but it is hard not to think that others perceive you as representing your government as somehow responsible for what is happening. How much of that is self-imposed and how much is actual, I dont' know. I suspect there is a little bit of each mixed in.
Something that has been done here consistently is to try to show that both sides are facing unacceptable situations. Clearly, the bombings in Gaza are horrendous and it is terrible and deplorable that so many people have been killed, but the Institute is always quick to say that the people in Sderot and Netivot, etc are also facing an unacceptable situation. The Arab students have said on more than one occassion that they are frustrated with always trying to strike that balance. The situations aren't equal. There have not been many casualties on the Israeli side, they can go elsewhere in the country to escape the bombings, they can go to bomb shelters. I think that everyone here recongnizes that there is significant asymmetry, but it doesn't minimize the fact that the Israeli public is suffering in this conflict as well. It does not invalidate or lessen the pain and injustice of the Palestinians that Israelis are also suffering. It is something that I have found frustrating in general here. There seems to be an underlying (and unspoken) contest over who has suffered more. As if that somehow gives someone more legitimacy and validation.
On a related note, I find it interesting that a lot has been said here about Sderot and the area surrounding Gaza, but very little has been said about the army. Not only is there concern that some people here might be called up, but what about friends and family? And this may sound heartless, but frankly, if someone's family member has to go to the Gazan border, they are probably in more immediate danger than anyone else's family in the Machon. Why have we not recognized this at all? It is so taboo to talk about the army because Palestinians have such bad associations with it. They see it as an occupying force, an oppressive force.
I don't really know what else to say right now, so I'll leave it at that.
It is odd to be here with people who are so directly and personally affected by the events from both sides of the conflict. On the one hand, I see the Palestinians who really feel as though this is an attack against them, who see those being killed as part of them, even though their immediate families are not in immediate danger. I have seen a couple of them sitting in front of the computer watching the news all day long, literally. I completely understand that compulsion - I did that very thing during the invasion of Iraq in 2003. Michael was there, but we had no idea what he was doing, where he was, or when we would hear from him. The uncertainty and helplessness can make you feel as though you are going crazy. And what can you do? Watching the news will perhaps provide a sense of empowerment because you know what's going on, but what do you do with that information. It highlights what you don't know and just becomes torturous. I remember coming home from school, sitting in front of the TV, and not really being able to do anything else. It's a horrible feeling. And it is hard for me to watch other people do that to themselves. There is a point at which it has to stop and reinstituting a sense of normalcy into life must occur.
There are some very liberal Israelis here, to the point that they left their army service early or have refused to do reserve duty ever again (Israelis typically do reserve duty once a year for a month for 30 years - I think - after their army service). And then there are some Israelis who disagree with the occupation, but say they do not regret their time in the army and that they would do it again if they had to do it over. One of the more "right" Israelis who has always defended his military service and the importance of the IDF, may be called up to go to the Gazan border. For the first couple of days, he was very concerned about what he would do should he actually be asked to go. He told us that he has decided that he would refuse to go, because it wouldn't feel right. It isn't a question of loyalty or patriotism, it is a question of current circumstances. He couldn't go fight and potentially kill Arabs when he is living with them and has created friendships and connections.
As one of the other Israelis said to me, how can we look the Arab students in the face? Everyone here condemns the violence on both sides, but it is hard not to think that others perceive you as representing your government as somehow responsible for what is happening. How much of that is self-imposed and how much is actual, I dont' know. I suspect there is a little bit of each mixed in.
Something that has been done here consistently is to try to show that both sides are facing unacceptable situations. Clearly, the bombings in Gaza are horrendous and it is terrible and deplorable that so many people have been killed, but the Institute is always quick to say that the people in Sderot and Netivot, etc are also facing an unacceptable situation. The Arab students have said on more than one occassion that they are frustrated with always trying to strike that balance. The situations aren't equal. There have not been many casualties on the Israeli side, they can go elsewhere in the country to escape the bombings, they can go to bomb shelters. I think that everyone here recongnizes that there is significant asymmetry, but it doesn't minimize the fact that the Israeli public is suffering in this conflict as well. It does not invalidate or lessen the pain and injustice of the Palestinians that Israelis are also suffering. It is something that I have found frustrating in general here. There seems to be an underlying (and unspoken) contest over who has suffered more. As if that somehow gives someone more legitimacy and validation.
On a related note, I find it interesting that a lot has been said here about Sderot and the area surrounding Gaza, but very little has been said about the army. Not only is there concern that some people here might be called up, but what about friends and family? And this may sound heartless, but frankly, if someone's family member has to go to the Gazan border, they are probably in more immediate danger than anyone else's family in the Machon. Why have we not recognized this at all? It is so taboo to talk about the army because Palestinians have such bad associations with it. They see it as an occupying force, an oppressive force.
I don't really know what else to say right now, so I'll leave it at that.
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