TO BREAK THE FREEZE
By Amia Lieblich
Beit Ha-Shittah, a veteran secular kibbutz, which houses the Archive of the Holidays, the splendid project of Aryeh Ben Gurion, marks Tisha B'Av through a meeting of its members, where they read the Book of Lamentations, and afterwards it is their custom to hold a lecture or participatory discussion on a topic related somehow to the theme of the day. Kibbutz Beit Ha-Shittah, which was the basis of my book Kibbutz Makom, is one of the places dearest to my heart in the Land of Israel. Once in 2005 I was visiting the kibbutz on Tisha B'Av. We were then discussing the upcoming evacuation from the Gaza Strip, and the prevalent anxiety that this might precipitate a civil war in our midst. This year I was invited to lead a discussion on my book In Spite of It All: The Story of a Binational Village.
The book presents the story of the residents, comprising Jewish and Palestinian Israeli citizens, who live together in the community Neve Shalom / Wahat Al-Salam (http://nswas.org/). As with many of my books, this is a description of a particular community from the diverse viewpoints of its members—who am I, how did I come to be precisely in this community, how does my life unfold in this place, and what do I envision for the future—these were the focuses of the narrative. The Jews told primarily of the ideological motivations that brought them, as proponents of peace, to try to implement feasible harmonious relations between Jews and Arabs in everyday life, and to educate their children in a bi-national and bi-linguistic environment. The Arabs told primarily stories of uprooting and refugee status that led them to seek a plot of land and a home in which they would feel secure and would be able to offer non-racist and non-oppressive surroundings to their children. Indeed, the lives of all these people have been conducted in this cooperative community for nearly the past 40 years. They all spoke of the hope and disappointment that accompany their lives, when they attempt to realize values of equality and mutual acceptance amidst a climate that is generally apathetic and sometimes hostile, through periods of quiescence and fighting in our region. They spoke also of Bruno Hussar (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bruno_Hussar), the founder of the community, a priest who was a converted Jew, by virtue of whose stubbornness the community came into existence against the odds.
When I reflect on the fate of my book Against the Odds and Tisha B'Av 2013, some thoughts occur to me. I think of the freeze into which the peace process in our area has been immersed since Rabin's assassination, and I immediately recall the baseless hatred which as is well known was considered one of the causes of the destruction of the Second Temple. This freeze has been especially profound, in my view, in recent years, the period of Netanyahu's administration. Every discussion of contact between us and our Arab neighbors is nipped in the bud, as the ball is passed immediately to the other's court, who is then blamed for not making it possible. I am not a political expert, and I cannot enter into an analysis of the complex political situation in our region. We are blessed with the prosperity that has fallen to our lot—especially for the inhabitants of the large cities—in the interval between one rocket fire and the next, or between one revenge foray and the next. If social justice is a higher aspiration than business as usual, it nevertheless fails to generate any urgency. It is hard for us to stand in the breach in the face of frightening manifestations of racism, and we try to change the channel to business as usual. From time to time there arise prophets of doom who warn us what lies in store for us in this land if we do not change our course. Sometimes we hear of individuals who have left Israel, including our own children, the salt of the earth, because they do not want to take part in an occupying, unjust society. But the prevailing mood is that in both the political and social spheres, "the dogs bark but the caravan moves on."
Given this reality, I think on this Tisha B'Av about my book In Spite of It All, a book whose appearance was hushed up almost entirely by the media, who are tired of discussion about "the situation." More than this, I am thinking about this small, lovely community, Neve Shalom / Wahat Al-Salam, in which only 50 families reside, who are crazy for peace. They do not talk peace, they do not demonstrate for peace, but they live peace. In my view they bring us the news that can avert the destruction, if we only listen to it. They are a beacon of hope for us all. They do not say that it is easy, they speak openly about crises and anger, even occasional despair. The journalists descend on them when they have their troubles, but ignore their flourishing existence all the rest of the year. But in spite of it all, this is a flourishing place, living, kicking and enduring.
I will conclude with two excerpts from my book In Spite of It All. First, from the words of Maram, a Palestinian woman member of the community, who has a doctorate and does research on bereavement in the Palestinian community. She describes a trip to arrange an interview on Yom Ha-Zikkaron (Israeli Memorial Day), when she is listening on the way to the sad songs on the radio, and says, "Ya, Allah! What is happening on both sides! It is the same thing. At the end of the day I found myself hugging Palestinian mothers. It is the same pain. Bereavement is bereavement is bereavement." Afterwards she spoke of her grandfather, who was a landowner in the village Sidni Alli that was conquered in 1948 and is now part of Hertzliya. He was not bitter about being rendered a refugee in his homeland. He said to her: "Hatred eats you up from within. Hatred is an enemy that you turn against yourself, not against someone else. I do not hate. Terrible things were done by the Jews but we also have responsibility for what happened in 1948." As a counterpart to this, Dafna, a Jewish therapist, says: "Here we have a true attempt to live a common life, to build bridges with each other in our midst. But we are coming from such different places, with different languages—not just Hebrew versus Arabic, but different internal and external dialogues. Perhaps we have planted a seed, or Bruno Hussar has planted seeds, and I adopt his compassionate view and say—we must take the time to wonder, to err, to fall, and to get up."
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