Jewish, Palestinian families share hopes for the future

I am an American in Israel. What a privilege.

As with my previous times in this marvelous country, I am welcomed. Each time I visit, it is as if I have returned home – home to friends, familiar surroundings, wonderful food and many differing thoughts.

Think of Thanksgiving with your family and friends. There’s always (at least) one family member you want to avoid. The one who speaks the loudest, seems to know everything about everything, and the one who rarely listens to anyone else.

Yet, Thanksgiving allows us to embrace those we love even when the chaos seems never-ending.

That is what I have experienced this week.

And what a week it has been.

We visited a monastery on the side of a mountain overlooking Jericho, the oldest city on the planet, looked at Masada, the great fortress, and walked the steps where more than 900 Jews chose to die at their own hands versus those of the Romans, floating in the Dead Sea, (which is very much alive).

We touched what is believed to be the site on the birth of Jesus and so many other adventures. All is wrapped in the debates of the day.

After four days of intense conversations with and between Palestinians and Israelis, hundreds of miles of travel in a van and walking until my legs cramped, I decided to take the day off, sleep in (8:15 a.m.) and enjoy the beginning of a day that will become Shabbat or the Sabbath. At 7:40 this evening the sun will set over Jerusalem and the seventh day of the week begins.

A day of rest.

The passion found in the complexities of the political and religious divides in this great land will not subside, but the voices will be quieter. In the stillness those complexities we have the chance to marinate differently.

“One state, two state, who knows?” lamented Asaf earlier this week. “No one wants to take responsibility on either side. They just want to bark their thoughts. How could my children ever pay for such decisions? As a Jew this is really frustrating.”

Asaf, his wife and two children live in Jerusalem and do not travel to Bethlehem in the West Bank.

Kamal, his wife and four children live in Bethlehem and cannot travel to Jerusalem. He says, “We live in occupied territory. Even though I (am) successful, I am limited.”

Kamal owns a small factory making elastic bands, coaches semi-pro basketball, teaches Bible at a local university and works as a tour guide. As a Greek Orthodox Palestinian Christian, he views the chaos as unfair due to a stalemate on both sides.

“When peace process stalls, there’s little violence and little progress. It’s like both sides want to show how strong they are but never give an inch.”

He added, “The worst part, how will I ever find the words to explain to my children (that) we are occupied, not free?”

Something that does give an inch, or much more, is a smile.

This afternoon the unexpected expected happened.

The temperature was close to 100 degrees within the walls of the Old City and we stop and order a Coke Zero over ice. A cluster of tables with shade appeared like an oasis in the desert. We sat. Exhaled. Chatted. Just then a group of nine gathered nearby. We had an extra chair and offered it to the one person standing.

“For me?”

“Yes, of course.”

“No, thank you. I prefer to stand.”

Before I could say anything else he asked, “Where are you from?”

“North Carolina.”

“I have visited South Carolina, Raleigh!”

I laughed and, with a gentle but solid correction, “That’s North Carolina, our home.”

Gabriel Wenrovski smiled from ear to ear and told me of his journey.

“I’m from Argentina, Buenos Aires. I worked with hotels. Good life. Corona comes and next day I have no job. No money. All is gone.”

This Argentine Jew knew he would be welcomed in Israel. He packed up his physician wife and 5-year-old twins and moved to a kibbutz. That was two years ago.

“Has the transition been tough?”

“Very. But I had to start over. From nothing.”

Starting over from nothing.

The lessons are there.

As we amble toward an election season of division, terrible political advertising on television and our emotions in a knot, might we learn from Gabriel and so many others like him.

We must start over.

In the chaos and complexities, we can realize we all want a better future for our families. A better society.

Freedom.

Just because we have different ideas of how to get there, may we never forget we are all traveling with the same destination in mind.

Starting over is never easy. Like listening, it is hard work.

Work, I believe, is worth it.

Shalom.