Tisha B’Av (9th of Av)

Throughout history, on the ninth day of the Jewish month of Av, many tragedies befell the Jewish people.  Both Temples were destroyed (655 years apart), the Bar Kokba revolt was crushed (322) and the Jews were expelled from Spain in 1492 (to name a few events).

Tisha B’Av begins at nightfall (like all Jewish holidays) and there is the custom of reading Eicha (the book of Lamentations) in synagogues while sitting on the floor.  Eicha is the beautiful and heart-wrenching verse composed by the prophet Jeremiah.

Here’s a sample:

1. How the Lord has covered the Daughter of Zion with the cloud of his anger

He has hurled down the splendor of Israel from heaven to earth; he has not remembered his footstool in the day of his anger.

2 Without pity the Lord has swallowed up all the dwellings of Jacob; in his wrath he has torn down the strongholds of the Daughter of Judah. He has brought her kingdom and its princes down to the ground in dishonor.

3 In fierce anger he has cut off every horn of Israel. He has withdrawn his right hand at the approach of the enemy. He has burned in Jacob like a flaming fire that consumes everything around it.

This year, Tisha B’av was actually held on the 10^th of Av due to the fact that the 9^th fell on Shabbat and we don’t fast on Shabbat. I began my fast about half an hour before Shabbat ended with a third meal with my roommates and friends. As soon as Shabbat ended, we headed off to hear Eicha being read.

Here’s where it gets interesting. I had heard about an “Eicha reading and walk around the Old City” that sounded interesting to me. I love historical tours I thought it would be really meaningful to go into the Old City on erev Tisha B’av. So I dragged some friends along to the Megillah reading (at Gan HaAtzmaut) to commence our evening. There were a lot of people out for the megillah reading and the atmosphere was really intense (in a good way). After Eicha was read (I followed along on my new Iphone), a few people started giving speeches and organizing the walk. A few Members of Knesset started talking about the tragedies of the Jewish people and how we no longer have the Temple which represents our weakness; a Rabbi from New York gave a speech about how the Jewish people will never be whole until we have the Temple again. People started getting riled up and the “walk” (which actually turned out to be a march) commenced.

The organizers started handing out Israeli flags and the riot police flanked out sides (some even rode on horses). A few of my friends picked up on the intensity of the situation and decided to bail, but a few of us wanted to stick it out and see what would happen.

The march headed up through Mamilla and up towards Jaffa gate. 

“It looks like the crazies are out” a friend of mine commented. We walked along, noting the insanity of it all while seeing ourselves as outsiders.

But then, as the crowd turned towards Damascus gate (in a mainly Arab area of East Jerusalem), we stopped joking around and recognized what was actually going on. What was this march doing? We were not going on a tour around the old city to the Kotel, why were we going in this direction? We started asking each other. I think we kind of knew from the start what we were getting ourselves into, but as my friend called it, it was a ‘boiling frog situation’.

This march had a very clear message which was: ‘you [the Arabs] destroyed our Temple and we are going to march through your neighborhood to show you who is boss.’ By marching, I was agreeing.

It was a bit sickening and we all decided to ditch as soon as possible. Even my self-proclaimed radically rightist friend was appalled.

The fast itself was not actually too bad. I pretty much slept the entire next day. Waking up here and there to read a depressing novel or the news (you’re supposed to be sad on Tisha B’av). The excitement of my day came towards the end of the fast when I went to go see Mit Romney speak. 

I’m not a Republican, nor do I plan on voting for Romney, but as an American, I jumped on the opportunity to see a presidential candidate speak in Israel.

I thought the speech was pretty standard. He said what I thought he would say with regards to his support for Israel. He mentioned the accomplishment of building a state after the Holocaust, discussed the common values between the US and Israel, mentioned the 11 Israeli athletes murdered at the Munich Olympic games 40 years ago and the terrorist attack that killed Israelis and Americans at Hebrew U ten years ago.

He also pledged his support for Israel in defending it against Iran.

"When Iran's leaders deny the Holocaust or speak of wiping this nation off the map, only the naive, or worse, will dismiss it as an excess of rhetoric," he said. "Make no mistake: The ayatollahs in Tehran are testing our moral defenses. They want to know who will object, and who will look the other way. My message to the people of Israel and the leaders of Iran is one and the same: I will not look away ... We have seen the horrors of history. We will not stand by. We will not watch them play out again."

Clearly, I like hearing my country being praised, but parts of Romney’s speech did not sit well with me (no, I’m not referring to the economic comment which I apparently zoned out during).

First, I kept wondering why Romney was so supportive of Israel. I love it and understand the necessity of a Jewish state to exist, but I’m Jewish, what’s his excuse? Is it really all about the Jewish voters in the United States? Is it possible, that Mitt Romney actually understands and sympathizes with the need and desire to have a Jewish democratic state? I honestly don’t think so.

Second, I had a difficult time believe Romney when he spoke of similarities between the US and Israel. He mentioned that one democratic value we both hold highly is respecting minority rights. This got me thinking about what a future state would look like. If we do come to a one-state solution, can minority rights really be protected? Isn’t that the crux of Liberalism—right are protected for all people and not just the majority? To what extent am I willing to sacrifice Liberalism for a Jewish state?

After the speech, I got a call from a friend who invited me to a “Ramadan/Tisha B’Av Break-fast” event. This dinner was made up of Jewish and Muslim Israelis all whom (or some whom) had fasted during the day (it is also Ramadan). The meal was delicious (as most meals are when you’ve fasted all day) but the interesting conversation that ensued was even better.

After dinner and over a nargillah, we started discussing our visions for the future. Ibraham, brought up a solution.

“In the end” he started, “all we really want is one government, one land, and many people living here all being taught the same things in school.”

“What will that be” someone asked.

“The same history about the land, so we don’t have any confusion how it came about”

“Like?”

“For example, what, we learn in school is that there are Zionists, and Jews. The Jews are just people who practice a certain religion. Not all Zionists are Jews and not all Jews are Zionists. The Zionists are the evil people who want to conquer the land and kick everyone else out. Clearly Jews and Muslims can get along we just have to get rid of the Zionists.”

“What about me?” I interjected. “I’m a Jew and a Zionist. Your definition of Zionist is not what I learned in school.”

“Do you believe that Israel should be a Jewish State?” He asked me. Before I had a chance to answer, someone changed the subject.

But what would have I said? I do believe in the necessity of Israel being a Jewish state. But what does that mean for the other people living here? If a one-state solution were to ensue, how can we be a Jewish state? There might be a Jewish majority, but again, we would still have to respect the rights of the minority ergo losing some ‘Jewishness.’

The rest of the evening was enjoyable. We talked about the origins of our names and talked about our favorite word in the other language (mine is ‘Yalla’).

On a lighter note, everything was ok the next day because some friends and I went to Tel Aviv and rebuilt the Temple in the sand. 

Hebron and a Two-State Solution

Last week Tuesday my Midrasha went on a field trip to the West Bank/territories/Judea-Samaria (however you would like to name the territory of which I am speaking).  We focused our trip on Susya, and Hebron. In Susya, we visited a historical Jewish town that existed and thrived after the destruction of the Second Temple and lasted until almost 200 years after Bar Kochba’s rebellion (335 CE).

                                    The arches from the Beit Knesset (Synagogue) of Susya

Inscription at the entrance of the Beit Knesset

In Hebron, we visited a site that shows evidence of a Jewish community that existing there over 3,000 year ago and the Maarat HaMachpaleot. If you see my entry from two years ago on Hebron, it still looks the same; this is the building that Herod built to house the cave where our matriarchs and patriarchs were buried. (http://darafrank.blogspot.co.il/search?updated-min=2010-01-01T00:00:00%2B02:00&updated-max=2011-01-01T00:00:00%2B02:00&max-results=13)

Two years ago, when I went to Hebron, I told myself I would never go back again. It was the most depressing place I’ve ever been.  I have always been opposed to the settlement movement—I have always seen it as a large barrier to peace with a two state solution and this trip was no different. I hid my face in Hebron least anyone I know sees me with this particular group of religious Zionists. Nothing I witnesses or experienced during this trip made me change my mind and I saw the situation as I’ve always seen it—a hundred Jewish families living in a city with a million Arabs and having the protection of the entire IDF.

I asked the rabbi leading the trip what I thought would be a provocative question:  

Me: “when we have this land for Israel, what do we do with the population living here?” 

R.A: “What do you mean, what do we do with the population? They’re living here      right?”

Me: “So we let them stay here?”

R.A: “Yes”

Me: “And they get all of the same rights as us?”

R.A: “Yes, except the right to vote”

Me: ?

R.A: “They’d be a Ger Toshav, a non-Jew living in the land, agreeing to abide by the laws of the land, with all rights except the right to vote”

I’ve heard that opinion before but I still got very upset. How could I, the good American Liberal who believes that every individual is endowed with certain unalienable rights, believe that Israel as one state for two peoples will actually be an apartheid state?

I was out of my league here and decided that the next day, I’d do something more up my ideological alley and attend a meeting at the Knesset about a two-state solution. 

Apart from the fact that my Hebrew was not quite good enough to understand all the nuances of what was said, I basically understood what was going on. I stopped struggling to understand because even though I did not know a lot of words, I knew what was being said. I had heard it all before: two-states for two people, land swaps, legitimacy, justice, fairness, etc.

Everyone was tired and the turnout was pretty small. There was little energy in the room. Members of Knesset came and said their part and left. Speakers blamed Bibi, the settlements (all to the applause of people in the audience) and they offered up nothing new or insightful.

A person from the audience raised the concern about our partners on the other side. Are they having meeting like this? Are they blaming their people and government for the stall in negotiations? What are they doing to push forward the two-state solution? The answers that were given were uninspiring. No, it did not appear that we have partners working on the other side.

Gershon Baskin provided the concluding remarks by showing us statistics taken from polls in the West Bank that indicate opinions with regards to different subjects within the topic of a two-state solution. It appeared as if more and more people are losing hope that it will ever come to fruition. The numbers show that fewer and fewer people would actively vote for a two state solution or vote for a politician who would favor one. It also turns out that the most charismatic leader  for the Palestinians is a member of Fatah who has been jailed for killing Israelis. If he was out of jail, apparently, he would win the election in a second. 

The following day, I went back to my Midrasha for a class on the Parsha HaShavua. Before we began class, a teacher asked us what we thought about the trip.

Usually unwilling to air my political grievances, I spoke up. I said that I was upset by the whole thing. I was upset at how people lived, I was upset about how the Palestinians were treated and I was angry about the presumptuousness that I perceived from the settlers.

Just a quick side-note; I was a political science student at Kenyon College. I learned early on that I in fact don’t know anything. However, I am always surprised when I re-learn this lesson with a topic I am so sure I do know. I was very surprised by the way my teacher responded. I was expecting Torah verses to support certain actions but instead, he spoke very logically and genuinely. He told me that as a visitor to Hebron, I don’t really have the right to judge what I see—I agree, I don’t. I don’t know how people’s lives are there, all I do know is what I see on tv and read in the news and what I saw for the hour I was there.

He went on to explain that in fact, if there were to be a one state solution, there is also a Hallacic president to allow the population living here to vote in free and fair democratic elections.

In the course of two days, I learned (again) that in fact, what I thought I knew, I do not nor do I know of anything just. Maybe there are other options on the table that I had not yet considered and if I can get rid of assumptions I may have about what is good, I can see these options more clearly. 

No more “peace” Talk

“Peace in the Middle East” is as hot as ever.  President Barak Obama is constantly emphasizing his support of Israel and his desire for a peaceful negotiation between Israel and the Palestinians. Prime Minister Netanyahu and Mahmoud Abbas are constantly talking about (unfortunately, independently) how they want to re-open peace talks.  

As a resident of Jerusalem, on a daily basis, I hear religious Jews praying for peace (I myself do so a few times a day as well). And travelling in Ramallah and Jericho, I’ve stricken up conversations with individuals who say that all they really want is peace. It seems so simple; everyone wants it, why can’t we just have it? However, this question assumes the fact that we have the same idea of what “peace” is and how it is manifested. Unfortunately, this is not the case.

The reason that negotiations are perpetually stalled is not because of boarders, refugees or Jerusalem. When it comes down to it, these details are just that, details. Rather, negotiations are stalled because everyone involved has a different idea of what peace looks like. You can’t have a discussion, let alone come to a solution when the basic premise of the conversation is not understood by both sides.

What is “peace” for the Palestinians? From discussions I’ve had, interviews I’ve read and conferences I’ve attended, “peace” means the end of a Jewish state. While very few people I’ve met have actively advocated for the destruction of the Jewish state and the expulsion of the Jews by force, this view does exist and is somewhat prevalent (but it makes sense that these are not the individuals that I am friendly with). However, a greater number of individuals do advocate the “soft” destruction of the Jewish State. Getting rid of Jewish sovereignty is not their expressed goal but it is an inevitable side effect of one sovereign state, where everyone has equal rights; while Jews will not be expelled, by default (due to population size and growth) the Jews will lose their majority and the state will cease to be Jewish by nature.

What is “peace” for Israel? The general understanding that I have come to is that when Israelis say peace, they mean no more violence, no more fear of uncontrolled violence and the ability to maintain sovereignty as a nation without endless international condemnation of this basic right. How this is to be manifested is the big question. Having the barrier wall is not peace in itself, but it leads to a more peaceful existence for Israelis. The other day, a friend told me, “you were not here ten years ago, of course you’re not scared to go food shopping, but ten years ago, there was no nightlife here, people were scared to walk to work.”

Another misunderstanding regarding peace is how it is achieved. For Israel, peace is obtained through negotiations and concessions (through the same internationally accepted procedure of discussion). This can be demonstrated by the fact that in the past, Israel has given up land and evacuated settlements for a promise of peace (think Gaza). This concession was met by Hamas' rockets.

For the Palestinians, peace can only be achieved though Israeli concessions to fulfill what the Palestinians want for themselves. Peace means getting what you want, and if not, negotiations are cut off. You can see through the history of failed negotiations when the Palestinians have refused to accept a portion of land for their state. In 1947, the land mass was greater than the land mass afforded to the Jews, in 1956, it was twice the size it is today. However, what is being given keeps being rejected.

While the situation may appear hopeless, there are some actions that I honestly believe can be taken to ensure that our idea of peace can be fulfilled. Continuing the building of settlements is harming the ability for the Palestinians to have eventual sovereignty (which we want). You can’t control a police force or run a state when it takes you five hours to drive to the town next door (due to circumventing settlements and check points).

The sad truth of it is, that at the end of the day, we have something infinitely more fundamental and difficult to deal with than borders, refugees or Jerusalem. But that does not mean that the situation is hopeless. The first step towards negotiation is understanding each others "language of peace." Through specific programs and activities (on which I have written about previously and will write about later) I believe we can understand each other. 

Travelling without political baggage

Originally published: http://chronikler.com/travel/tiyul-rihla/

Photo: ©Dara Frank

“Why are you even going on this trip?” a friend of mine asked as I was heading out to meet the group Tiyul-Rihla (“trip” in Hebrew and Arabic) to begin our two-day tour through the West Bank. “Do you think this will solve the conflict?” I honestly don’t know what I thought. I half-expected the trip to be another one of “those” tours that takes you into the West Bank and just burdens you with the conflict, hatred and politics.

The group assembled outside our hotel in Beit Jalah was an even mix of Israelis and Palestinians. At first we awkwardly mulled around, waiting for instructions, making small talk. Then some members of the group who attended Tiyul-RihlaPart I – when the group travelled to Jerusalem and Tel Aviv – started arriving and greeting their friends from the first trip with huge hugs and shining smiles (that kind you only see on a person who has not seen a close friend in a long time). I think it was the first time I’d seen Israelis and Palestinians actively embracing one another.

The agenda of the trip was non-political in nature, with the idea that we would travel to places that have historical and cultural significance to the members of the group. That way, we could teach and learn from one another about our about our respective religions, histories and cultures. At the Shalom Al Yisrael synagogue in Jericho, we were able to focus on the significance of the menorah mosaic on the floor and not the recent political struggle involving the building. At Hisham’s Palace, our Palestinian group members were able to proudly tour us around the remains of this magnificent structure that was erected hundreds of years ago.

For security reasons, we had to be very careful not to identify ourselves as Israelis. However, one of the guides at the Sycamore Tree site saw right through our cover. After he told us the history of the place, he concluded by saying, “Now go home and tell your friends, tell your country, that we want peace.” This comment made the whole group smile – after all, that’s why we were there in the first place. I was particularly excited by this encounter because, as simple as it sounds, it is not obvious that everyone wants peace; hearing our guide say this gave me hope.

As the day continued, I started to think about the implications of what this man had said. I thought: good, we’re at a good starting point, we both want peace. This means that we’re not engaged in a fight between one side who wants peace and one side who does not want peace and we both recognise that. But what does his peace look like? Does it look like my peace?

The remainder of the evening involved dancing in a park in Jericho, drinking coffee at a café in the center of town, walking through the streets with my new friends, lighting Chanukah candles and singing songs with the group.

It was reflecting on these moments that I was able to see what peace would have to entail. In the end, if I truly want peace, my definition has to overlap with my Palestinian friends’ definition of peace, and theirs with mine. It is trips likeTiyul-Rihla that help achieve the first step towards this recognition because we, as participants, can all now match a face to an idea. When “the Palestinians” are no longer just this group of people that exist in the abstract but a nationality that my friends define themselves as, it is easier to look at the question of a Palestinian state existing alongside Israel. And when my new friends see Israel not as the enemy but as a nation where I live, hopefully they can also see that I have the right to live here too, as a Jew, in my own sovereign nation-state.

We can’t solve the conflict or bring peace, but we can help pave the way for people to respect the other’s rights – on both sides of the divide. On the most basic level, encounters like this allow us to realise and understand the right for the other to exist. In turn, on a slightly more nuanced level, it allows each side to respect the sovereignty and legitimacy of the other. Without this seemingly simple recognition, it does not matter how much each side wants peace because our “peaces” won’t be the same.

To answer my friend’s question, no, I don’t think it will solve the conflict. But I do think it is paramount to the success of any resolution.