An Exploration of Being An American Jew Today  

"How Do We Hold the Pain of Violence to Our Human Family?"

Class Writings 2007

        Every day the news is filled with great violence. One coping strategy is to stop reading headlines, to disengage, to create a buffer between us and real events.  It’s a human survival tactic, but one which has the effect of deadening us to pain and dehumanizing us.  On the other hand, consistent pain of whatever kind can be crippling.  How do we as American Jews who have witnessed the debacle between Israel and Palestine throughout our lifetimes respond to this situation?

      In the early part of this year, I had the opportunity to explore that question.  As the former chair of Kehilla’s Middle East Peace Committee, I had felt the pain of the occupation in a way that I had never before experienced. But I wanted to continue that journey.

      The Spiritual Life Practices Committee entertained my proposal. I proposed a five-session writing class for Kehilla members and nonmembers who felt paralyzed by the occupation and who wanted to clarify their thoughts with the possibility of finding a pathway toward action.

     The class was divided into three general areas of exploration. We began to look at where we came from and our youthful connections (or not) to Judaism through our parents, grandparents and friends. We then opened up that door to the Holocaust and our connection to Israel. Finally, we explored our connection to the current day occupation and to envision a world of peace.

      The following pieces are excerpts from the class with the permission of their authors.  I felt privileged to work with each writer in the class.  Space does not allow for me to include all of the completed pieces; however I am hoping that you will sense their power.

     In  embarking on this journey, we deepened our connections with each other.  Thanks to members of the Spiritual Life Practices Committee and to the congregation for giving us the opportunity to embark on this journey.

-- Lenore Weiss, 2007

Reading, Between the Lines
from Norma Smith For Lenore

there is a family dinner going on    all my mother's family is
there a Jewish dinner such as I have rarely attended     my
Aunt Lillian sits at the head of the table     some of the family
is seated   some of the women are milling about   bringing food
to the table etc.   I am standing   my Aunt Lillian says "this
is the reason gentiles cannot understand what it is to be a
Jew   they never suffered the same persecution throughout
history"   I reply "in my studies this year I have learned
that the identity of the persecuted in history has been
passed from group to group   Jews being unique only in that
they are a constantly  and regularly recurring group   therefore
anyone can understand what it is to be a Jew and not on an
imaginary basis but because of a memory conscious or uncon-
scious    of when they were a member of this persecuted group"
my tone   is wholly rational   my aunts step back   I have won
the argument decisively   they make a place for me at the table
I am honored but at the same time am strongly aware that the
place they are making for me is that of a learned religious
man   I sit down at this place feeling stranded between these
feelings of honor and exile as a female

-by Barbara Einzig
from Indefiniteness is an Element of the True Music
 

I send you a poem, a sister’s prose poem, about
The sage: Cooking up a well-seasoned rebellion
in the kitchen, but exiled to a place at the table,
where we might be asked to read.

Reading

Between the lines. Reading the dream
That tells of community, of nourishment, and of starving isolation, withholding place,
finding place, a dream
That contradicts itself, speaking clear to us, of contradiction,
That speaks
In spite of the line drawn by clan
Patriarchs, served by women.

We recognize how much there is between the lines—
This line of thinking, line of argument, line of fire, a new line of
Clothing                           lines on a face, aging, smiling, weeping,
raging. Line at the super market, or the ration booth;

Lines approaching the camps. Separate lines.
Denying each other.
Men line up in my childhood
to kiss the Torah or to dance it around the bima; and return it
to the gold and satin-lined ark. After tabling it,

You say:
A great deal lies between the lines.

I say:
A bargain, if you can negotiate the tight wire.

Line in the sand.

Jerusalem Bus
by Judy Gussman
January 16. 2004

A Jerusalem bus which had been bombed was brought to Berkeley as part of a tour against “international’ terrorism, although the obvious focus was I-P. I made a sign that said “All Life is Valuable: All Violence is Vile” A group of Jews from Arab countries surrounded me and challenged my sign. After heckling me, all but one left.

 “Actually,” he said after the women were gone, “I admire you, for doing what you’re doing. It takes courage.”

“Thank you,” I said, surprised. “How kind of you to let me know that.”

“I’m originally from Morocco, but grew up in Israel.” His voice was calm, quiet enough that I heard hear a bird chirping overhead in defiance of the frosty air. I wrapped my jacket tighter around me and I felt my knees, so arthritic, ache with the cold. 
 
“You have a good heart, but you are naïve like my father was.” There was a slight tremor in his voice. The bird warbled. “He started three soup kitchens in Israel, open for anyone. Muslim, Christian, Jew. And when he saw that the Palestinian children in the territories were going without enough food, he opened a clothing factory, just to make work for their parents.” The bird flew away.

As the man spoke, both his voice and his body shook. “One of his workers … one of the people he gave a job to so his family could eat … “ The man paused, his shoulders slumped, and his chest collapsed inward. “One of his Palestinian workers killed my father and my nephew.”

I put my hand on his arm, caressed it. “I’m so sorry. What a terrible thing to happen” There was nothing else to say. I felt amazed and honored that he was telling me this so quickly after meeting me. But he looked exhausted; the telling had rubbed old wounds raw.

Just then, a friend of his came over, and I left them to talk with each other. It seemed the right thing to do. As I walked across the park green to the west sidewalk, a young Jewish guy, college age, glared at a Palestinian.

“You look like a camel,” the Jewish kid shouted.

 “Go back to your stinky ghettoes of Europe,” the Palestinian shot back.

I wanted to cry. The pain was like an onion, layers and layers of it. And each time you peeled a layer away, there were more tears.

Eryn Kalish
 “For our last assignment, please write about your vision of what you would like to see happen in the mid-east. If that question speaks to you, of course.” 

Speaks to me? It screams at me from every corner protest, as friends from both sides assault each other body and soul on the streets of Berkeley.

Speaks to me? It floods my dreams and my days, whimpers at me as yet another perfectly lovely social situation turns into an anguished conversation about Jews, Judaism, Israel and the Israeli-Palestinian conflict.

Speaks to me? I have never felt more pain and more challenge, even with those colleagues and friends I so cherish. Reminds me of the old quote: “those I pray with I cannot talk to and those I talk to I cannot pray with.” I would amend it to say that too many of those I love I  cannot talk with about Jews, Judaism and Israel without triggering defensiveness between us and those precious few I can talk with remind me of how lonely and small a group we are.

So what would I like to see happen? Well, ultimately I would like to see a mid-east confederation where Israel and Palestine lived alongside the rest of a peaceful mid-east in healthy, joyful and productive ways. Bringing the best of the western world’s healing technology to bear on creating a green mid-east with the warmth of Arab hospitality, Jewish, Christian, Muslim religious and political soul infusing citizen exchanges, shared joy in sports, dance, music, food and culture. 

I feel pain at just stating this. Remembering that vision strikes despair in my heart. How long as it been since this seemed even in the realm of possibility? With the bloody Iraq war in it’s 4th year, Iran threatening to wipe Israel off the map, Gaza a nightmare for all concerned, incompetent leaders of both the Palestinians and the Israelis, even resurrecting this vision sounds naïve and absurd and so far beyond the destruction that seems to be what we are heading for.

But just suppose those of us who live outside the war zone could agree on and articulate a new meta-narrative that stopped the blame game? One that acknowledged that all four key players who co-created the mid-east conflict (the Israelis and the Palestinians, the Western and the Arab powers) made hideous mistakes and agreed that to quibble over whose mistakes were worse was getting us nowhere faster.

And then suppose that we actually started to describe the conflict in those broader terms. To each other, in the press, on the streets.

And just suppose that when Jews and Arabs, Israelis and Palestinians started hearing each other described with more understanding and compassion and less demonizing, they felt less defensive. And started to really talk to each other.  About what could be done to support real peace. Not the version of peace that has Israel taking all of the blame and keeps the Palestinians locked in victim mode for eternity.  Not the version of peace either, which begrudges every mention of Palestinian suffering by denying any culpability on Israel’s part, and makes insane demands on the Palestinians at this stage of their process.

Real peace, the kind that acknowledges the pain and powerless both Jews and Arabs have experienced across time.

Real peace, the kind that also acknowledges that from inside that suffering both peoples have truly terrified the other. 

Real peace. Like supporting what One Voice is doing:  hosting huge joint gatherings and publishing statistics that share the common bonds of Israelis and Palestinians to push their leaders to finally negotiate a deep and lasting agreement.