Last week, I joined Andy and his JTS and Zeigler classmates on a trip to Gush Etziyon, a collection of Jewish settlements in the West Bank. I expected to see trailers and poverty, and to be afraid of what might happen, but instead I saw a sprawling suburb with beautiful houses and modern accessories, like supermarkets and BurgersBar. I’d like to reflect on some of my experiences about the day, but just talking about the area can become political, as the language you use to describe it can betray your political leanings. Is the area in question called the West Bank? The occupied territories? Or, like our tour guide, do you prefer to use the Biblical names of Judea and Samara? Are the neighborhoods there settlements or gated communities? It is my hope to share a few thoughts about my day, without getting into politics.
The first stop on our tiyul was to Herodyon, a mountain stronghold that King Herod himself made out of the surrounding earth. One of the things I love most about living in Israel is that, with every step you take, you are walking on history. I appreciate that our tour guide took the time to point out the paths that our ancestors walked, and where cities we read about in the Tanach would be located today. (And yes, I know that she did that in order to make a political point, but I just took it at face value and enjoyed the history lesson). As we explored, a flock of goats began to graze at the base of the mountain. The herders were two young teenage boys—they could not have been older than most of us standing there. And while they were herding goats, they would momentarily take out their cell phones to check their messages, or play games, or they would light up a cigarette. Of course, they wore modern day clothes like sweatshirts and sweatpants. It is the juxtaposition of the ancient with the modern that is another reason why I love Israel.
Our next stop was to a youth village, called S’de Bar. It does many things, including acting as a home for youth who have been involved with the criminal justice system. For many of the boys living there, this is their last chance before going off to jail. Here, the boys can achieve success in their studies and graduate to join the IDF. They also help develop one of the village’s many products, logs made out of what is known as gefet—the leftover olive skins and pits after olive oil is made. Simply throwing out or burying the gefet can be toxic to the water supply, so this youth village has developed logs which can be used for fire, instead of wood. The gefet logs are more ecologically safe than simply using wood, and it takes no extra energy to create them. They are helping the world reduce its carbon footprint and creating a Trash-to-Treasure project at the same time! No wonder why I thought it was really cool.
As we drove from stop to stop along a main road, we frequently passed large red signs announcing the beginning of “Territory A” villages—villages completely under Palestinian control, where there is no Israeli presence. It is illegal for Israeli citizens to drive on those roads or enter those territories. Our tour guide explained that the signs are meant to protect the individual as well as the country from a possibly violent or hostage situation. I thought that seeing the signs and learning what they are would scare me, but throughout the trip I sort of just accepted them for what they were and felt comfortable knowing that we would not be going into those locations. At the risk of getting too political, I wondered what the people living behind those signs felt about the existence of them—are they happy to have their space, or does it warn of a danger that is not really existent and instead isolates a part of society? I’m not sure I, or anyone else, will ever really know, since, like most things, every person probably feels differently about them.
Our last stop was a two-parter. We first stopped at a bakery where were we encouraged to buy cookies or cakes to give to IDF soldiers during our last stop. We were told that the bakery closes its registers every Friday afternoon, and afterwards needy families are welcome to come and take what they need free of charge. Furthermore, every couple days, the bakeries leave anonymous deliveries for families who ask for them. The bakery is not only about making a profit, but is also about doing good for the community. I can really appreciate this motivation. After we purchased our cookies and cakes, we visited the pina chama (literally: the hot corner), a small café-type area set up in honor of two members of the Gush who were killed a number of years ago. The café provides IDF soldiers with a place to chill out and rest, and is staffed by mother-figures called “the aunts.” Soldiers can come to grab coffee, cake, or other goodies, to hang out with friends or be taken care of by “the aunts.” Again, a grassroots agency giving back to its community truly speaks to me, no matter where the community is located.
I will admit that our tour guide was outspoken and one-sided, but I do appreciate her honesty about her biases, instead of trying to cover them with a thin veil of objectivity. In addition, I’m sure our tour was chosen carefully, with a special eye to certain examples of “good things” coming from the West Bank in order to sway us towards one side politically. Sometimes it is difficult to recognize when there are good things coming from situations we don’t agree with. Many of the places we visited on Thursday are doing amazing things for their community, the Jewish people, and the world—but are these places only to be considered “good” if we agree with their right to be in their location in the first place (ie: the West Bank)? I don’t think so. For me, sometimes it is important to take a step back and say “wow, that’s really special”, leaving the politics out of it.
Even more difficult than recognizing “good” and leaving out politics, I think, is to approach a situation with an open-mind and a willingness to accept and incorporate new information into our way of thinking. It can be scary to change our minds—it’s a lot easier to cling to what we’ve always believed than to think for ourselves and be willing to consider thoroughly the many “truths” presented before us. I believe that it is possible to lay down the political colors for a day in order to accept universal good and experience another’s truth, and to consider it in regards to our own way of thinking.
It is difficult to cast off our armor and allow something new and uncomfortable into ourselves, but I believe, if we can successfully disarm ourselves, we will be richer, stronger, and wiser for having done it. I know I am.
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