The Country of Everest - Beit Jala

Last weekend, I had the opportunity to spend a weekend at the Everest Hotel, which had been given good publicity a couple of weeks ago in the Jerusalem Post. The conference was sponsored by the Center for Emerging Futures advertised as:

Building Grassroots Partnerships

Beyond opinions, beyond fears,
beyond simplistic solutions and beyond politics:

A meeting of Palestinians – Israelis – Internationals
A human gathering of listening and co-creation

Sounded just like what I needed. I remembered the tough time I experienced last time I was there two years ago and I hoped things would be a bit different this time.

I didn't feel like spending money on a cab to get to Beit Jala. I took the bus from Maaleh Adumim to Talpiot when I decided I would take the Arab 21 bus straight to Beit Jala. I saw an Arab woman standing by the stop and started a conversation with her in my very broken Arabic but enough that she understood that I wanted to get to the Everest Hotel. She was so pleased that I asked for her assistance, after all, it's not every day that an Israeli woman would come over to ask an Arab woman for directions. She quickly offered me some of the seeds she was eating and invited me for coffee at her house. I would have loved to go, but I was going to be an hour late already. I sat in the back of the bus, some people staring, probably wondering if I was Jewish, a journalist or just a plain ol' foreigner or all three. The bus pretty much emptied out at a stop where taxis were waiting to take people to Hebron. It took about 15 minutes to get to Beit Jala and the bus left me off quite close to the hotel.

The introduction circle had already begun. I was listening to people's share of why they came - some had never met the other before, some wanted an end to the occupation, some wanted this for their children and I said I needed this kind of gathering for my mental health, which elicited some laughter. Of course, I mentioned that I came from Maaleh Adumim, which caused some murmuring among the crowed, but I happily saw that there was another young man from my city too.

We sat in a listening circle with Raed from an area near Ariel. He was harsh. No settlements! he cried, No occupation!!! YOU move to Tel Aviv and I move to Maaleh Adumim. He glared at me.

I told him that's impossible. Although I love to visit Tel Aviv, I'm not moving from Maaleh Adumim and if he wants to move and live with me in my community, that would be fine with me. I'm obviously not thinking or caring what my other 37,000 neighbors think of my ideas. He quieted down because he actually liked the idea of "living with me" and kept on repeating "living with you?" about 20 times. But he still believed that the settlements were the only problem and if they were removed, peace would miraculously appear in the region. I said the conflict was much older and deeper than 1967. He walked away from our table only to return with some crackers shaped like fish and handed each one of us a cracker - like a peace offering of sorts. This we thought was a lovely gesture from a man so angry, and we spoke about it in the larger circle.

Other forms of "giving" were done that weekend. One young Palestinian from Hebron said he was touched when, on Friday night, he complained of a horrible stomach ache. A Jewish woman made him some mint tea.

Another said he had a terrible headache and a Jewish tai chi instructor gave him some treatment and within minutes his headache was gone.

Jewish Oud player Yair Dalal entertained us on Friday evening with young musicians from Beit Jala.

This weekend I connected more deeply with some people, especially some of the women that came with their husbands from Twane and Umm al-Kheir. My Arabic was slightly better than it was a couple of years ago and their husbands spoke good English. They were such sweet people. One came over to me after I had lit the Sabbath candles and wished me a warm "shabbat shalom". They feel tormented by the Jews who live in nearby Carmel and Maon farms. Although the settlements receive 100% water supply and electricity, they don't have electricity and running water more than 3 hours a day. I guess we can't exchange email addresses. By the end of the weekend, my partnership goal/promise was to assist the families as best as I can by them making goat cheese and milk and yogurt products, as well as olive oil products and assisting these families in selling their products to tour groups and individuals who visit the South Hebron area. They can't really produce organic or any veggies or fruits, for that matter, on a large scale basis because of the water/electrical shortages. They are just able to grow whatever they can for their own use. But I figure this might help them out just a bit.

At breakfast Saturday morning, I sat with two young women, one raven-haired Jewish beauty from Belgium, whom everyone mistook for an Arab woman, and one who recently moved from Seattle who was 23 years old, but had the compassion and maturity of a much older woman. I told her my kids, who were her age, just thought about parties, shopping, friends, etc. She told me she was born an old woman and I laughed. We then sat around and spoke about visiting one another in Tel Aviv and Ashdod and perhaps having brunch on the Tel Aviv Port one day and then the conversation abruptly stopped.

"You know 'they' can't do all these things we're just taking for granted" - we almost said in unison - looking at our Arab table mates. We were almost embarrassed by this.

Leaving my nirvana on Saturday afternoon was difficult this time. We really connected and just this week I had a call from Twane asking when I plan to come down to visit. I told them for sure later on this month. Promises made have to be kept.

Were Palestinians once Jewish?

Someone sent me this video. I think it's kind of wild, especially since there were times when I've met certain Arabs I thought - "Oh my God, he looks so Jewish holding that prayer book" or "She looks just like my aunt" - and even at times felt as if we were closer than sisters or brothers. There was no explanation for this.

And then this video (mostly in Hebrew but with some English subtitles).



So at a retreat last week at the Austrian Hospice, I ask one of my Palestinian friends who lives in the Hebron area if he believes this theory that they come from Jewish stock. He tells me 'Oh yes, my grandfather told me we are descended from Bar Kochba .'

People were like - ok, now they have Right of Return, since they're all Jewish, together with, it's harder getting along with your own, never mind getting along with the Arab world. Maybe it's better that they stay where they are?

Then I think one could understand more - with this theory in mind - why their explusion/fleeing from their villages in 1948 was so painful that they commemorate it each year, as we have done for 2,000 years our exile. If they were originally Jews, then they've been exiled for the third time, and don't like it much one bit.

Crossing Over

Our interfaith group had been meeting for over a year already and had only met at my home in Maaleh Adumim. It has been a royal hassle for the Moslems to get over to our side with getting permits and some times not being able to get them on time. Last month we felt secure enough to make the next meeting at our Moslem coordinator's home in Abu Dis. Many local hecklers had teased me with emails like "why don't you meet at their home in Abu Dis?" - and at the beginning it seemed impossible. After all, aren't Jews too frightened to venture into Arab neighborhoods? Well, last month we made that decision to finally have our next meeting there.

Four Jews set out from the entrance to Maaleh Adumim on Thursday night. Our Moslem coordinator picked us up outside the checkpoint in his car. He immediately apologized for the state of his car.

"This is my father's car. It's a very old car, but because he works for the Palestinian government, this is what they gave him."

Huh? I told him too bad his dad doesn't work for the Israeli government because he'd be driving a shiny new Volvo right now. And we drove through the dusty bumpy roads of Azariah through the valley of Abu Dis dotted by ancient terraces.

"I like driving this car better than a Mercedes?" he told us.

I looked at him in disbelief. What kind of Arab was he anyway? Didn't they all love luxury cars - BMWs, Audis, Mercedes?

"I feel like I'm really driving when I drive this car!!" he told us, as he struggled with his stick shift.

"Yeah, when you go in a Mercedes - it drives YOU, doesn't it!" I said sympathetically.

He must be the black sheep of the family, I thought.

As we drove into Abu Dis, everyone seemed to know him. They waved and smiled, probably not having any idea he's driving a bunch of Jews into his home.

He gave us a tour of his place; out in the garden there was an ancient fig tree, its roots against what looked like a centuries-old wall. There was a row of old domed homes owned by his family in another part of the family compound.

"This is where I met my wife, when she was a student at the university and rented an apartment there. I would see her from this terrace."

"Oh like David spying on Bathsheba, huh?" I asked - while everyone laughed at the thought of him checking her out in her apartment, unknowing to her.

The house was immaculate, and I could use that word freely since the Pope was still in town on Thursday. Abed poured us coffee from a lovely copper urn he picked up in Jordan.

We talked about mosques and synagogues at this meeting and the Moslems seemed surprised to find out that one of the oldest synagogues in the Holy Land was deep in Jericho. I had taken photos of it when I was there like 10 years ago. And the Jews learned that the three holist mosques are in Mecca, Medina and Jerusalem. There were 7 parts to a mosque; one of which is called a Minbar. So when I looked at a photo in his home of the Minbar inside Al Aksa, at first I thought it read "minibar at Al Aksa" and everyone laughed at the thought of a secret minibar inside the holy mosque.

The discussion expanded somewhat as some of us secular Jews talked about feeling closer to God even though they were secular than when they were religious. Because sometimes formal prayer doesn't always get you there. I tell the group that I also feel close to God during interfaith meetings and prayer groups because I feel like this is what God wants. He enjoys seeing the Children of Abraham getting on in His land and not bickering over every fucking thing.

The meeting lasted for three hours instead of the usual 1 1/2 hours. The Jews didn't have expiry dates on our permits - heck we didn't even need permits to get there, although one person noticed a sign going into the Arab neighborhood forbidding Israelis to enter this neighborhood, even though it's Area B and legally allowed.

As we were let out at the entrance back to Maaleh Adumim, the guards asked us if everything is ok, as we walked through the checkpoint.

"Yes, everything is ok." we answered and smiled. If they only knew where we just were...

Walking to where people parked their cars, we wondered why donors weren't pouring money into interfaith groups/non-political dialogue groups. I think everyone felt so high from this meeting.

And that feeling unfortunately soon ended as I entered my home and faced the grumpy, eternally-complaining members of my family....

a wonderful word from Gershon Baskin

It was like he took the words right out of my mouth... I'm reprinting the whole article here:

Gaza needs a peace stimulus

History shows the power of people-to-people contact.

By Daniel Noah Moses and Aaron Shneyer
from the January 14, 2009 edition (Christian Science Monitor - www.csmonitor.com/2009/0114/p09s02-coop.html )

Jerusalem - "We have failed, haven't we?" our colleague from Gaza said over the phone, amid the sound of explosions.

For those of us engaged in "people to people" peace building, the latest violent chapter in the Israeli-Palestinian conflict is both tragic and surreal. All around us, people remain convinced that the solution to the conflict depends on military fatigues, armored tanks, Qassam rockets, suicide bombers, stones, and F-16s. But violence will only prolong the conflict and inflict deeper wounds.

Israelis and Palestinians have a choice. They can continue business as usual: violence, separation, hatred, and fear. Or they can recognize that they must look for mutually beneficial ways to share their small corner of the world.

People-to-people diplomacy works on the assumption that if Israelis and Palestinians connect at a human level, they will build compassion and trust. They will change public opinion. Painfully, slowly, they will create cross-border movements to transform the cultural and political reality on the ground.

Many question the impact of people-to-people diplomacy. But it has hardly been tried. Researchers estimate that perhaps 5 percent of the Palestinian and Israeli populations have engaged in an organized "dialogue" or "encounter" program of any kind. Since the beginning of the second intifada in 2000, an estimated 1 percent or less of Palestinian and Israeli youth have had such an opportunity. It's unreasonable to dismiss people-to-people programs based on such a meager attempt.

When the conflict between Israel and Hamas took its latest ugly turn, Israeli and Palestinian graduates of the Seeds of Peace summer camp in Maine were at a citywide interfaith celebration in Haifa. While Hamas and the Israeli government communicated through violence, the "Seeds" communicated with words and affirmed their commitment to finding nonviolent ways to build a better future.

Participants of all ages in reconciliation programs such as Seeds of Peace go through profound personal transformations. They do not melt into soft consensus and sing "Kumbaya." They struggle – intensely. They disagree radically about fundamental issues.

At the same time, they come to terms with the existence and the perspectives of the "other side." They form deep, life-long relationships. They build trust.
But it is difficult for seeds to flourish when the ground is toxic. To cultivate a culture of peace, we need a critical mass. Leading up to the Good Friday agreements in Northern Ireland in 1998, at least $650 million in mostly government funds was spent over five years to bring Catholics and Protestants together. This people-to-people diplomacy touched at least one-sixth of the population (250,000 people).

There are nearly 12 million people within the borders of Israel and the Palestinian territories. To reach roughly the same proportion of people there as in Northern Ireland, let's assume we need to spend at least the same amount per capita. This would be about $5 billion over the course of five years – $1 billion a year.

This is pocket change. The war in Iraq has cost the American government almost $600 billion so far. The United States gives more than $2 billion annually to Israel for military aid. Why not invest close to that amount in peace – $2 billion a year over the course of five years, just $10 billion for the first phase of a peace-building initiative worth its salt.

For such a "peace stimulus" to succeed:

1. The United States must lead an international campaign to bring together millions of Israelis and Palestinians for sustained people-to-people diplomacy.

2. The Israeli and Palestinian governments must make people-to-people diplomacy a public and vocal priority.

3. Programs need to be flexible. They must provide space for local initiative and local needs.

4. Resources must be devoted to programs that focus on community building, on dialogue within communities – on getting one's own house in order.

5. Programs must be coordinated and sustained: Follow-up is essential. Individual organizations need to work together, to share resources, to have maximum impact. The Alliance For Middle East Peace is taking critical steps in this direction.

First, we have to navigate the geography of conflict: the enforced separation, through military and legal means; the emotional and psychological barriers, just as strong. We urge the international community to construct a chain of secure centers, safe havens, at the separation barriers, where Israelis, Palestinians and internationals can meet safely and interact as equals.

With war raging, with people dying, with pain, anger, and hatred intensifying, world citizens of conscience must take responsibility and realize our power to help transform this conflict. A well-coordinated people-to-people initiative would do more than perhaps anything to ease the tensions in the greater Middle East and on the world scene.