As I was taking the trash out yesterday evening, I met our next door neighbors who were heading to synagogue. We exchanged hellos, then Steven said," Tell America that the whole of Israel is not a war zone!"
The sound of a teenager two doors down shooting hoops was proof of the fact.
" The media is a bit of a problem isn't it?" I said.
"It sure is!" he huffed.
So, Steven, I'm following your wishes.
Consider yourselves informed, America.
Monday, November 19, 2012
Thursday, November 15, 2012
Because the young men and women of the Israeli Defense Force are at their positions in the south, we can continue traveling around, showing Tim's mother the places in this country that excite and intrigue us. Not far away, there's an armed conflict concentrated in a small area of land, and we are safe in Jerusalem and able to get in our rental car this morning and take a drive up to the Galilee. Gert and I will be at the airport the day after tomorrow, boarding passes in hand, and fly our way out of this beautiful land that has such a long and complex history. We'll fly our way out of this terrible conflict back to watching from halfway around the world. It is not lost on me that I have a country to go to, a big one, and a passport that says it's my country and that I have a place there. I want everyone here to have that - the Jewish people and the Palestinian people, both of whom have long histories in this place.
I won't be so presumptuous as to pretend I have the answer. I try to listen. I listened to the Arab taxi driver who drove us to pick up Tim's mom from the airport. I followed the direction of his hand as he pointed out the new apartments that had been constructed and listened to him tell of the phone call he received two years ago from his brother telling him to hurry home. There was heavy equipment arriving to take down their apartment building.
I listened to the young Israeli server today at the cafe where I am sipping tea. With head bent low to hide his emotion he told of his friends who are in the Israeli Defense Force near Gaza. It's mandatory for all young men and women to serve in the military so everyone knows someone who is at risk. A friend, a brother, a daughter - defense in Israel is an extremely personal issue for everyone. We see them at checkpoints when we travel or at more sensitive sites such as the Temple Mount. They always strike me as being young. So vibrant with their lives ahead of them. May they have long lives.
I listen to the Jewish people I've struck up conversations with who inevitably have a connection to the Holocaust that wiped out 6 million Jews during World War II. They or their family members escaped the horror and came here with the hope that in coming back to the homeland of their ancestors and making a go of it, their children would not face what their parents or grandparents faced in gas chambers or firing squads. They need this land. Some proudly tell of being born in this land as countless generations of their family have been.
The conflict is complicated and it's more than headlines. It's people. It hurts.
I listen, hope, and pray.
I won't be so presumptuous as to pretend I have the answer. I try to listen. I listened to the Arab taxi driver who drove us to pick up Tim's mom from the airport. I followed the direction of his hand as he pointed out the new apartments that had been constructed and listened to him tell of the phone call he received two years ago from his brother telling him to hurry home. There was heavy equipment arriving to take down their apartment building.
I listened to the young Israeli server today at the cafe where I am sipping tea. With head bent low to hide his emotion he told of his friends who are in the Israeli Defense Force near Gaza. It's mandatory for all young men and women to serve in the military so everyone knows someone who is at risk. A friend, a brother, a daughter - defense in Israel is an extremely personal issue for everyone. We see them at checkpoints when we travel or at more sensitive sites such as the Temple Mount. They always strike me as being young. So vibrant with their lives ahead of them. May they have long lives.
I listen to the Jewish people I've struck up conversations with who inevitably have a connection to the Holocaust that wiped out 6 million Jews during World War II. They or their family members escaped the horror and came here with the hope that in coming back to the homeland of their ancestors and making a go of it, their children would not face what their parents or grandparents faced in gas chambers or firing squads. They need this land. Some proudly tell of being born in this land as countless generations of their family have been.
The conflict is complicated and it's more than headlines. It's people. It hurts.
I listen, hope, and pray.
Hi.
I was in a shop today looking at local Israeli artists' handcrafted jewelry and couldn't help but notice that the radio was tuned to the news and that from amid the jumble (to my untrained ears) of Hebrew the word "Hamas" kept surfacing, clear and sharp. I could have continued casually browsing through the glass cases asking about this necklace and that pair of earrings and ignored the broadcast. But it was a tiny shop and the saleswoman and I were the only ones in it. We were in our own little glass case of a world, with the traffic shop-window-distant, muffled, and I couldn't pretend I wasn't aware of the state of things in Israel. The pain, the angst, the weariness, the stiff upper lip and the going about as if nothing was the matter.
So, I said, "It's troubling news today, isn't it? With Hamas." I glanced up and she nodded looking relieved to have it in the open. We talked, and though her manner was casual and easy, when our eyes met they held and I could see she earnestly wanted me to know and to understand. She said, "I'm glad you're living here so that you can see. Because when you are over there (the U.S.) it sounds like Israel is always the bad guy, that Israel is doing terrible things to the Palestinians. But the news doesn't report the rockets that are launched from the Gaza Strip into Israel again and again. The people there run into the bomb shelters again and again. But the news doesn't report that."
My former college roommate who immigrated here 25 years ago said similar things when she called me to tell me she was not coming to see me tonight after all. A rocket had hit just outside of Tel Aviv and she was afraid to make the hour drive from there to Jerusalem. Instead she was going to clean the bomb shelter in their apartment complex. Her daughter is in the military and had called earlier to say she wouldn't make it home for the weekend. The military is on alert.
The friendly Palestinian cab driver we got to know today just shook his head and looked sad and frustrated about the situation. When Tim asked him what he thought the answer was, he pointed to heaven and said, "God. He knows." He and his wife adopted a baby girl recently, after twelve years of being childless. He and Tim talked about children and customs of engagement and marriage. They warmly shook hands at the end of the ride, the driver calling Tim a good man.
And tonight a weary professor at the university spoke of his wife's family who have spent most of the month in a bomb shelter in one of the Israeli towns north of Gaza. The organization he directs will be sending volunteers to help the refugees of the military engagement. His organization helps persons of all nationalities and religions, so it's very possible they will be helping refugees of both sides.
There are a lot of good men and women, a lot of babies arriving to joyful parents, a lot of people weary of the destruction on both sides. Surely somewhere in the long history of hurt there is a chance for peace. The people we talk to agree with us when we say we will pray.
I was in a shop today looking at local Israeli artists' handcrafted jewelry and couldn't help but notice that the radio was tuned to the news and that from amid the jumble (to my untrained ears) of Hebrew the word "Hamas" kept surfacing, clear and sharp. I could have continued casually browsing through the glass cases asking about this necklace and that pair of earrings and ignored the broadcast. But it was a tiny shop and the saleswoman and I were the only ones in it. We were in our own little glass case of a world, with the traffic shop-window-distant, muffled, and I couldn't pretend I wasn't aware of the state of things in Israel. The pain, the angst, the weariness, the stiff upper lip and the going about as if nothing was the matter.
So, I said, "It's troubling news today, isn't it? With Hamas." I glanced up and she nodded looking relieved to have it in the open. We talked, and though her manner was casual and easy, when our eyes met they held and I could see she earnestly wanted me to know and to understand. She said, "I'm glad you're living here so that you can see. Because when you are over there (the U.S.) it sounds like Israel is always the bad guy, that Israel is doing terrible things to the Palestinians. But the news doesn't report the rockets that are launched from the Gaza Strip into Israel again and again. The people there run into the bomb shelters again and again. But the news doesn't report that."
My former college roommate who immigrated here 25 years ago said similar things when she called me to tell me she was not coming to see me tonight after all. A rocket had hit just outside of Tel Aviv and she was afraid to make the hour drive from there to Jerusalem. Instead she was going to clean the bomb shelter in their apartment complex. Her daughter is in the military and had called earlier to say she wouldn't make it home for the weekend. The military is on alert.
The friendly Palestinian cab driver we got to know today just shook his head and looked sad and frustrated about the situation. When Tim asked him what he thought the answer was, he pointed to heaven and said, "God. He knows." He and his wife adopted a baby girl recently, after twelve years of being childless. He and Tim talked about children and customs of engagement and marriage. They warmly shook hands at the end of the ride, the driver calling Tim a good man.
And tonight a weary professor at the university spoke of his wife's family who have spent most of the month in a bomb shelter in one of the Israeli towns north of Gaza. The organization he directs will be sending volunteers to help the refugees of the military engagement. His organization helps persons of all nationalities and religions, so it's very possible they will be helping refugees of both sides.
There are a lot of good men and women, a lot of babies arriving to joyful parents, a lot of people weary of the destruction on both sides. Surely somewhere in the long history of hurt there is a chance for peace. The people we talk to agree with us when we say we will pray.
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