The notion of ‘kadosh,’ sacred separation, permeates every aspect of Jewish religion. The Jewish homeland reflects the theology of its inhabitants. Separation is the eternal constant of Israeli life. Separation between Jews and Palestinians, secular and religious, Ashkenazi and Sephardi, new immigrants and old.
Still, these boundaries are not imposed only by Israelis. Discourse about Israel has been neatly dichotomized in the Diaspora, as well. After returning from two trips to Israel and the West Bank, I have been inspired to search for a middle ground. I have a lot of questions. One in particular stands out: Number 37 on the birthright israel end-of-trip questionnaire reads, “Are you prepared to take part in debates about Israel?” I left this question blank last summer and have been trying to figure out which box to check ever since.
I had spent weeks preparing for the experience of the Kotel, the ancient Western Wall in Jerusalem, when I finally left on my trip with birthright israel. I looked at pictures and tried to imagine what it would be like to get close and feel the ancient stones. I practiced walking backwards so I would be able to navigate between the sea of chairs that I had been warned about. I even bought the Schottenstein Siddur and searched for something appropriate to whisper into the wise crevices.
When I finally arrived, the Kotel was lit up by the night lights, like some gold-tinted vision. I had to wait and push a little to get to a spot where I could touch the wall. As I pressed my fingers against the cool stone, I felt something incredible. I finally understood why gushing birthright narratives always end with the same sentence; “You’ll never really understand it until you’re there.” I relished the guttural sounds of the Hebrew, the soothing rhythms of the women’s davening, and the secure feeling of being surrounded by people like me. It was a climatic moment in my quest for self-definition, but, honestly, you won’t understand until you’re there.
Two weeks later, on Birthright Unplugged, a Jewish trip to the West Bank that is completely unaffiliated with birthright israel, I discovered that other walls speak, too.
When I first approached the Separation Wall, I felt my stomach turn. Branded with epithets (“Jew=Nazi”; “This is another ghetto”; “Go home Jews!”), it was a physical manifestation of all of the negative aspects of the doctrine of separation. I had never been so close to something that seemed so wrong. Still, I reasoned, the ancient wall at the center of David’s city was safer thanks to this wall–for now, at least.
Later, other Birthright Unplugged participants and I were sipping sweet mint tea at the Beit Jala home of Munira, a Palestinian. Munira’s property is enclosed on three sides by the Security Fence and on a fourth by 25-foot slabs of cement. Alone in a sea of red roofed homes of settlers, Munira’s humble house reflects the silent gray wall which looms large over her property and cuts it off from the neighboring Arab village. If I had been surprised by the novelty of Jewish athletes, beauty queens, and dancers working to create a perception “Jewish normalcy,” here was something else disturbingly normal about Jews: we could be oppressors. Munira’s gracious hospitality hardly appeared to be a threat to the settlers, but maybe they didn’t like the family pet: a donkey named “Bush.”
At the heart of the Jewish community is a place of love and comfort where Israel reigns as the triumphant culmination of a history of persecution. But in the outside world, Jews are fiercely defensive. “Pro-Israel” discourse and programs like birthright israel conspire to maintain the classic perception of Jews as victims and the goyim as oppressors. And yet, as I saw in the West Bank, this paradigm does not always hold true. Israel’s kedusha does not appear to be preserving Jewish integrity, as it has in past generations.
Instead of driving wedges between Jews who question Israel’s actions, accusing them of being “anti-Semites” and “self-haters,” let’s allow these voices to rise up as part of the chorus of Jewish voices. Not “pro-Israel.” Not “anti-Israel.” Just Israel. Maybe we are on the verge of a new era of Jewish history when we will be able to take another step towards national “normalcy” by critically evaluating our own history from a place of love and concern. I hope for our sake, for Israel’s sake, that we are strong enough to meet the challenge.
