A Museum and the Clarity of Something Closer
Everything from a distance makes something closer clearer. Professionally distanced for several months from routine interactions with Palestinian colleagues in the West Bank, anger feels stronger than pain. I skim headlines about Jewish-perpetrated violence, unauthorized yet endorsed by factions of the government, overlooked by law enforcement authorities. I am saved daily confrontation with Palestinian colleagues sharing personal experiences and those of family, friends, and neighbors – loss of lives, arbitrarily ransacked homes, physical attacks – sometimes accompanied by video clips. Maybe I scan headlines more superficially, less likely to read media accounts, the compulsion to verify removed. Wishing the stories could be denied becomes more futile.
This year, 58 years since the Six Day War. On June 5, 1967, I recalled October 6, 2023, sitting on a stone in Cordoba facing our hotel, seeing the date, October 6, 1973, alone, in a Facebook post by an Israeli friend living in the US. I nudged Haim, saying, “50 years.” He looked back questioningly. I said, “October 6.” He understood.
This week, June 5, I pondered the date solemnly – the ecstasy of joy that the reunification of Jerusalem holds for the Jewish people, reduced to a mismanaged episode turned epic tragedy for us, for Israel, for the Palestinian people. Not from a Jewish settler perspective, clear from a response to my Facebook post that day.
Eid al-Adha began Thursday evening. I sent holiday wishes to Muslim friends and family. One personalized version of the greeting with the AI e-card produced in accordance with my prompt, included a wish that we should all enjoy days worthy of being called holidays.
Nearly every message sent was acknowledged, some resulting in ongoing exchanges. I share one example representing rare willingness to validate the emotional pain of an Israeli Jew from the heart of a Palestinian from Jenin. There are widely familiar voices in social media and on television which are remarkable, sometimes bringing me to tears with personal stories of loss, yet compassion for all human beings, recognizing the futility of revenge, seeking peace. But the voice that is personal for me, invariably touches most deeply.
This was the voice of a former colleague, a young father temporarily residing as a graduate student in the US, committed to promoting a solution to the conflict. Angry. Hurting. A victim. A witness. Conflicted by emotions fighting reason. My description of him.
While in DC, he follows news from home, from family, friends, neighbors sharing pictures of Jenin, of other sites in the West Bank, Gaza. As we continued our exchange, he wrote, “I’ve been in a museum here, 60,000 American soldiers killed in a Korean War.”
War troubles him. The future of the Palestinian people preoccupies his thoughts. His words are open to interpretation as texting is. Personally, demoralized by the government of Israel, I find nothing accusatory in his messages. Only reassurance.
His response to my holiday greetings wishing better times for all that most resonated from DC: “I hope it will end soon and you and your people go on. Because what happens now don’t [doesn’t] help the Israelis nor the Jews in general.”
War troubles him. From the distance, what is closer is clearer.