Ask Chaviva Anything: A Life Illegal?

This is going to be a rather tense edition of Ask Chaviva Anything, simply because of the nature of several questions I have received in recent weeks. The first one is easy, and then come the tough, emotional, complicated ones.

How did you choose Neve Daniel? 

This is an easy question. In my past visits to Israel, I've been able to experience the Golan (northern Israel), Jerusalem, Ramat Bet Shemesh, Neve Daniel, Tel Aviv, and Caesaria. Since moving here, I've also experienced a few other small, beautiful towns and neighborhoods. When I first moved to Israel, I was utterly pleased to live in Jerusalem in the Nachlaot neighborhood, because of its proximity to the shuk, centrality in Jerusalem, and the vibe of the neighborhood.

Mr. T, too, lived in Nachlaot until the beginning of November. Yes, we've wondered whether in those few short weeks I was living in Nachlaot whether our paths ever happened to cross.

That being said, when you meet someone amazing and decide to get married, you want a place that can and will be all your own -- a place that is "yours" as a collective couple. My apartment in Nachlaot was a shoebox, and Mr. T's apartment was (unfortunately) falling apart and not a place that we felt like we could be a "we." Thus, moving.

Why Neve Daniel? The short answer has two components: It is absolutely freaking beautiful there, and the bulk of my closest friends in Israel live there. (They call it Har HaBloggerim -- mountain of bloggers -- for a reason.) Lucky for me, Mr. T is an absolute dream and wanted to be in a place that made me happy, where we could be happy together. Neve Daniel is most perfect for what we need and where we are right now. They're even building a Beit Knesset right across from where we live!

Now ... the following are actually two different questions from two different people at two different times, but I've combined them for ease of answering.

How do you justify moving to a settlement that is considered to be in violation of international law? || I agree with you that the west bank in general, and the gush in particular, as stunning, and have a very special feel to them, and some lovely people living there.  But does it bother you to live in a place where there are two sets of rules for two groups of people, with unequal access to roads, water, healthcare, and civil protections under the law?

I knew this question was coming, and to be completely honest I haven't spent much time thinking about it. I've found that a lot of people outside of Israel don't necessarily understand what a "settlement" is in Israel. Many people think of caravans or tents or people living in trailers -- not the community in which I'm now living where the homes are built, completely permanent, where there is infrastructure, and a complete sense of permanent living. That being said, I think some history is necessary here.

Neve Daniel was established in 1982 on the site of the Cohen Farm -- which itself was founded in 1935 on lands purchased by Jews from an Arab village. In 1943, the land was transferred to the Jewish National Fund, abandoned during the Arab riots, and remained under Jordanian control until 1967. By this account, the land is Jewish-owned, period.

The question about legality comes from Article 49 of the Fourth Geneva Convention relative to the protection of civilian persons in time of war, which says,

"The occupying power shall not deport or transfer parts of its own population into the territories it occupies."

So my first question here is whether we're currently in a "time of war." My second question arises from the fact that no "state" held exact control over Judea and Samaria/the West Bank prior to 1967 anyhow.  According to the 1935 purchase and 1943 transfer, the land which Neve Daniel occupies is Jewish-owned. If we're neither at war nor was the area controlled by one state from which Israel then "occupied," then this isn't problematic.

As for the question about the inequality of access and lifestyle, I have to say that I just don't see it. Almost daily I ride through the checkpoints, I shop at the grocery store with Arabs and Jews alike, I travel the same roads, I live the same life, except I cannot enter certain places because I am Jewish -- like Bet Lechem, for example. The giant warning signs are explicit: It's dangerous to enter these Arab towns for Jews. There is no sign at the entrance to Neve Daniel telling Arabs not to come in out of danger to their lives, and you won't find one at any entrance to any "Jewish" town in the Gush either. (Lots of Arabs come in to Neve Daniel every day for work, at that.)

At Tzomet HaGush (near Neve Daniel where the grocery store and several other shops are), I park side-by-side with Arabs. We wait in the same checkout lines. We buy the same groceries. We ask the same questions. We travel the same roads home. In Jerusalem, we wait in the same waiting rooms, drink coffee at the same cafes, get annoyed at the same bank tellers, and run to catch the same buses.

It isn't a life apart like you think. Take, for example, the fact that Beitar -- the Jerusalem soccer team -- has Muslim players on its team, but the team they're playing this evening is a Muslim-only team. It's like Bet Lechem, precisely.

Of course, we could argue about it until we're blue in the face. This is simply my perspective, and this is my experience in nearly four months here and several years visiting the country. There are people who want all Arabs to die, to occupy every last inch of this small land, and who treat Arabs and Muslims like rats rather than people. Guess what? I'm not one of those people. I believe in an equal opportunity to succeed, to be happy, and to live life. But I also know my history, my politics, and I know that so much of what the world sees of Israel is either not based in fact or is based in fact and skewed. I know that Arab nations have rejected those who call themselves Palestinians and only acknowledge them when it serves a greater purpose for Arab and Muslim nations. They're a pawn, and it's disappointing and depressing. Israel does more for Palestinians than any of the nations of Arabs, period.

I'm debating whether to leave comments open on this post. I think, against my better judgment, I'm going to leave them open. Be kind, but be honest and realistic if you want to comment, please. I have no interest in fighting with anyone about this subject. I do, however, appreciate intelligent discussions that stick to productive dialogue.

Side note: The name "Neve Daniel" comes from the name of a bend in the road southwest of Bet Lechem where a convoy bringing supplies to Gush Etzion was ambushed in 1948. According to reports, 15 Jews were killed, 73 wounded, and tons of supplies and vehicles were destroyed when Arabs blocked the roads and swarmed the Jewish convoy.

The Bid for Palestinian Statehood

Look at all that Jewish land! Oh wait, 60 percent of that is desert. 

Today is quite the important day for Israel. It's Kaf-Tet B'November. Kaf-Tet is the date, with kaf (כ) being 20 and tet (ט) being nine, you can deduce that it means it's November 29.

The significance of this date is that on November 29, 1947, the United Nations voted on the Partition Plan for Palestine (also known as UN General Assembly Resolution 181). The plan was approved by a vote of 33 to 13, with 10 abstentions.

The plan would have partitioned the territory of British-Mandate Palestine into Jewish and Arab states, with the greater Jerusalem area (including Beth Lechem) coming under international control. The Jewish contingency was not pleased with the amount of land allotted, but agreed for the sake of moving forward. The Jewish state comprised 5,500 square miles (60 percent of which was desert), and the Arab state comprised 4,500 square miles (of lush land). In both states, Jews and Arabs would live side by side.

Unfortunately, instead of seeing a dual state as a boon, the Arab nations attacked in May 1948 in an effort to destroy the nation, they lost, and Israel began to expand back to its natural and historic borders, which continued through the late 1960s.

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Note: The historic/natural land of Israel was known as Judea until the 2nd century after the Bar Kochba revolt. After the revolt, Hadrian decided to punish the Israelites and named the land Philistia after the great enemies of the Israelites, the Philistines. The name evolved into Palestine with the British mandate, and suddenly an entire nation was born of people who called themselves Palestinians. The interesting question is this: If Hadrian hadn't punished the Israelites and the land's name remained Judea over these hundreds and hundreds of years, would those who identify as Palestinians today call themselves Jews as well? Would this be a battle fought of Jew vs. Jew?

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Today November 29 is important because today is the day, 65 years to the date later, the United Nations is voting again. Today in New York, Palestinians plan to ask the U.N. General Assembly to recognize a non-member state of Palestine in the Israeli-occupied West Bank and east Jerusalem, as well as the Hamas-ruled Gaza strip. The Palestinian collective is confident, and it they're playing this off as if a declaration of acknowledgement will make "peace talks" a more viable option. Any idiot knows this isn't true, of course, and recognition by the United Nations of a terrorist-controlled land -- in my opinion -- proves once and for all the complete and utter failure and insignificance of the United Nations.

Luckily, the vote won't mean that much. According to U.S. Secretary of State Hillary Clinton, the U.N. vote "will not fulfill the goal of independent Palestinian and Israeli states living side by side in peace, which the U.S. strongly supports because that requires direct negotiations."

To show just how against the vote the U.S. is, Republican Sen. Orrin Hatch filed an amendment to a defense bill Wednesday that would eliminate funding for the United Nations if the General Assembly changes Palestine's status. Hear hear, I say. 

After everything that has happened in recent weeks, I think this request is incredibly ballsy and a little bit out of bounds. The fact that Israel agreed to a ceasefire on the same day that Hamas terrorists blew up a bus in Tel Aviv says to me that Hamas and it's Palestinian puppets seem to think they have the world wrapped around their little finger. My hope, in the end, is that more countries abstain than vote, and that those who vote make a sensible choice. 

The Palestinian people are not ready for statehood. They haven't been for a long time. Abandoned by Arab nations who don't care about them or their plight and operated in Stockholm Syndrome-style by Hamas, the Palestinian people have a lot of growing up to do. You cannot change adults, so you have to start with children, and this requires a lot of education. A lot. Unfortunately, this isn't happening, thanks to Hamas. Someone -- a lot of someones -- need to rise to the challenge, to push out Hamas once and for all, to reclaim the peoplehood, to stop living in fear and confusion and hatred. It takes responsibility and leadership -- two things that are simply missing. 

Only then will I support a two-state solution. Only when Hamas is driven into the sea and the people teach their children the value of words, promises, and human rights.

Shabbos + Flotilla + Sigh ...

The sun in the sky in Caesaria, November 2009

I don't have much to say ... as I'm still exhausted from the pre-wedding weekend, the wedding, and three "official" sheva brachot celebrations. What I do have to say, is that I'm thoroughly disgusted at how the Flotilla incident has been going down in the news. There's a viral video that's pretty amusing (a nice play on "we are the world," but that also has some of the horrifying video of IDF soldiers being beaten and stabbed), but other than that all I can offer is the following. Good Shabbos, and may the world figure out its messes before history repeats and we're writing more history books about our mistakes.

Pray for Injured IDF Navy Commando Soldiers this Sabbath

The names of the rest of those injured in the recent “flotilla” incident , June 2010, are listed below. It is customary, in Jewish practice, to pray for an individual using his given name and the name of his mother. IDF commandos are not identified by first and last names for security reasons.

Dean Ben Svetlana

Roee Ben Shulamit

Yotam Ben Dorit

Ido Ben Ilana

Boris Ben Eelaina

Below is the prayer for the welfare of IDF soldiers, as brought in translation by the Council of Young Israel who also publicized the list of wounded.

He Who blessed our forefathers Abraham, Isaac and Jacob – may He
bless the fighters of the Israel Defense Force, who stand guard over
our land and the cities of our G-d from the border of the Lebanon to
the desert of Egypt, and from the Great Sea unto the approach of the
Aravah, on the land, in the air, and on the sea.


May the Almight cause the enemies who rise up against us to be struck down
before them. May the Holy One, Blessed is He, preserve and rescue our
fighting men from every trouble and distress and from every plague
and illness, and may He send blessing and success in their every
endeavor.


May He lead our enemies under their sway and may He grant them
salvation and crown them with victory. And may there be fulfilled for
them the verse: For it is the Lord, your G-d, Who goes with you to
battle your enemies for you in order to save you.


Now let us respond: Amen.

I went Waltzing with Bashir.

I'm writing this post on Saturday, August 9, 2009. It's 12:30 in the evening, or morning rather, and I find it difficult to go to bed without writing this. Of course, the language pledge still has about four or five days to go, and this is technically outside the bounds of what I should (read: should) be doing, but I don't think that I can really give it my all in Hebrew. I've discovered that speaking in Hebrew and even writing in Hebrew is like poetry with every word. Of course, my poetry isn't graceful or punctuated properly, but the sound of Hebrew is like honey on the tongue. It's the language of my neshama, the language of my family.

Tonight we watched, as a group, as part of the Middlebury Film Festival, "Waltz With Bashir." The showing was open to the public and a lot of people from the other Language Schools came. There were English subtitles (as I write this I'm thinking in Hebrew, it's bizarre), which made the movie breathable. I don't know how many of you have seen the movie, but it's been acclaimed since it's release last year (I think, and am too tired to look it up on the internet right now), even being nominated for an Oscar. For the longest time I didn't know what the movie was about, and I didn't take the time to look it up. I assumed it was about one of the many battles Israel has waged in the fight for life. By life, I mean the right to exist, the right to live in a land where, so far, we've paid a heavy price to live. I didn't know, precisely, that the movie was about a conflict with Lebanon, a conflict that left a generation of Israelis locked inside the cage of their own bodies, minds, and hearts.

It's interesting, because my roommate here is from Lebanon. I'm a convert to Judaism with a deep and unshakable connection to Israel because I know, in my heart of hearts, that I stood at Sinai all those years ago for the b'rit. There have been many conversations here, some peppered with English because the Hebrew was too hard to muster in a flurry about Gaza, the West Bank, Palestinians, the right for everyone to live, in one way or another, somewhere. It's been hard, and it's been complicated, and I think tonight made things all the more complicated and frustrated. M'tuskelet.

The film (true) told about the soldiers of the IDF during the 1982 Lebanon war. It told of the soldiers who, 20 years after the fact, had mostly crawled inside themselves, memories being something locked in the chambers of the mind. Some experienced this more than others, and the story's main character had all but repressed every memory of the conflict except one. By the end of the film, he's pieced together everything and the images that come pouring out are earth-shattering, horrid, traumatizing. And the film ends with not the caricatures and animation of the rest of the film, but with real moving pictures post-massacre in Sabra and Shatila. The gist of the situation was that Israeli soldiers sat idly by as Christian Philangists massacred anywhere between 300 and 3,500 Palestinian and Lebanese people ... including women and children and the elderly. Some men had crosses hatched into their bodies by the Lebanese Forces Christian group. The IDF sat on the outskirts as a stronghold, thinking that the LFC was inside clearing out civilians before they took down terrorists or something of that sort. The soldiers saw what was really happening, informed someone who informed someone else and after two days of this, the IDF sent off the Christians.

The film, important in that it depicts an event that is horrifying to consider even today, is also important in another, different way, because it depicts what so many people are unwilling to talk about after incidents of severe trauma: memory. I think about Poland after World War II and the absolute neglect to reflect on the war and its casualties at the hands of peasants. I think about how even today some countries are unwilling to have a conversation about the Shoah. The church itself took some time to consider the events of the Shoah. I think about the soldiers that return from war in Afghanistan and Iraq and how shell-shocked they are, how they crawl inside themselves like soldiers did in post-Vietnam America. Are we servicing them correctly? Repression is the way out after traumatic events, but where does it get us? If we can't learn from our mistakes immediately, then we are bound to repeat them immediately. If we take 20 or 30 years to reflect on our misdeeds, missteps and the horrors that we've experienced, that's 20 or 30 years in which we can repeat or allow events to be repeated. The cycle is one that will inevitably repeat itself time and time again without question. It's an unhealthy and dangerous cycle. If we refuse to discuss, we refuse to resolve, we refuse to promise "never again" about all things heinous and wrong.

On the other hand (from perhaps a completely incomparable side), I think about my father. His parents died separately when he was just a kid. His mom when he was 8 and his dad when he was 10 or so. To this day my father claims to have no memories of them. Small things, like a scent or something. But no concrete memories. I'll admit that I don't remember a lot from when I was 8 or 10, but I remember enough to know that my father could remember more than he does. But the trauma of losing your parents (his mom to cancer and his father to a sudden heart attack) at such a young age is shell-shocking. The body and the brain don't know what to do with the memories and the emotions, so they get shoved into the corners and forgotten about. How can I help him remember? Should he remember? I think it's important. I think it's necessary. An entire life he's lived with those memories somewhere, affecting everything he's done and said and felt. I just think that he doesn't know it or accept it.

But I'm no psychologist.

My feelings about the movie are so mixed. On the one hand I'm devastated that Israel stood idly by and let the Christian Philangists commit such horrible acts of slaughtery. On the other hand I'm just confused. I can't blame the soldiers because in Israel they are merely soldiers -- men and women off the street. It's not voluntary and they're not all heros and body builders. The movie proved one thing: The Isreali soldier is weak, afraid, and imperfect. In essence, they're human.

And as history has proved, humans do some pretty flippin' stupid things sometimes. All the time. If we're not at war with ourselves we're at war with each other. Wars of words that turn into wars with bombs and guns.

The dynamic here is interesting. There are four students here with strong ties to the Palestinians. There are a lot of Jews. And there are a handful of Christians. What a film to show such a group, eh?

I've run out of words for this post, though. I'm not sure what the point was or if there was one, or if I just needed to write something to someone in the ether. My jaw aches from being clinched all night, and I don't know if I'll be able to sleep. The amount of work that needs to be done in the next four or five days is infinitesimal and I need to be focused. Right now my brain is a mess of thoughts and images. Mostly the images. There were a lot of comparisons made between what the people did in South Lebanon to what the Nazis did to the Jews in the film. I don't think that the IDF was comparable to the Nazis, but I also don't think we can pit numbers of dead against numbers of dead. The actions are what need to be weighed. I'm disappointed in Israel, so soon after the Shoah and with the generations in Lebanon then being the children of survivors. I can't say I always understand what Israel does in the fight to live, especially in this instance. And those images. So vivid for me 27 years after the fact. I can't imagine what those images must be like for the IDF soldiers who entered the area after the massacre. The smells. The sounds of wailing women. The death.

Every night when I go to sleep, I ask G-d to help me understand. Understand what? Just to understand. Specifics are unnecessary. I once had a vision that I would do amazing and earth-moving things. I felt that there was something important and blessed that I was to do. I didn't know what, and I still don't know what. So every night, still, I pray, and I ask to understand.  That's all. And every night, there's something new on my mind. Something I don't understand. I don't expect the answer, I suppose I don't even need the answer. After all, who am I?

Ani rotzah l'hevin, b'vakashah.

So you want to boycott Israel?

This video, brought to my attention by the lovely Aliza , is pretty hilarious. I know it looks long, but just watch it. Seriously.

My Big Fat Jewish Day, Part II

So I wrote yesterday about my Big Fat Jewish Morning on my way to work. Well, today was ... quite the same. What's the deal? Am I just more conscious or what? I feel like there's something I'm supposed to get from all of this. I can't figure it out. ARGH! The universe is so WEIRD!

+ I injured my leg over the past two days, with it coming fully to a head last night where I overextended it and basically jacked up my knee. I woke up this morning, unable to walk. Thus, I got on the horn and called the orthopedic clinic and they set me up to come down in the early afternoon. I got there, and my doctor, was Dr. Cohen. Now, aside from this being a coincidence (there are a million doctors named Cohen), the guy was sort of nuts. He started talking about chances are a cyst behind my knee popped, causing pain in my leg, and could result in a blood clot which could cause me to DIE. I was freaked out. Thinking, "I just wanted to get my leg checked out, come on." So he sent me away to this other place where they do ultrasounds and things, to get my leg on the ultrasound to make sure I had no clots.

+ I stop at Subway to grab some lunch (it was that or McDonald's) in the half-hour I have to burn between appointments. I grab my food and sit down, look at the table across from me to find an African-American gal with a magen David necklace. She looks, I look, we smile, both on our phones. Then, this guy who was at the Young Adult function three weeks ago walks by, looks in as if recognizing me, and then keeps on walking. I can't remember his name.

+ I head to the building for the ultrasound, where I sit in another waiting room. A man and his wife come in and he is wearing cowboy boots and a nice rural getup. He picks up a copy of the New York Times. His wife asks him what he's reading about. He then says the following:

I'm reading about Germany. (pause, then he says louder) They're building another memorial, you know? Because of the Nazis. (pause) Do you see any other countries doing that? No. (pause, he looks at the cover of the paper and then looks at his wife, laughs) New York Times. (pause) Not going to agree with much in here.

I couldn't help it. I felt like he was talking to me.

+ I leave the appointment, get on the bus, and head north to the Walgreens where I get my prescriptions filled. I get off at Belmont to the sound of chanting, flags waving, people in traditional Palestinian scarves. Israel flags, a few, are waving in the blustery, cold wind. A little man approaches me with a flier and I look up at the crowd and back at him and say "Fuck that." I walk away a bit and turn around to watch as the cops pile on the crowd in front of the theater. The little man waddles up. "I'm with YOU!" he says and points at the Jewish star around my neck, glistening like some badge of honor or something. He hands me a flier, goes back to his little group and brings another and says "Join us on Saturdays!" He explains to me that they're protesting the Israeli film festival -- a one-night event. I slowly gather that there are three groups of people here: 1) Palestinians and their supporters, calling for a free Palestinian state and the destruction of Israel and its power in the world; 2) Jews from "Not in My Name," a group of Jews who sympathize with the Palestinians and call for an end to the atrocities; 3) Jews who believe the "Not in My Name" folks are a hindrance to the Jewish cause and are sporting the Israel flag with pride -- they are the smallest group there.

Had it not been for the fact that my knee and leg were killing me, that I needed to get my prescription, and that I was lacking a scarf, gloves and a hat, I would have stuck around. The cops were really coming in and the chants were getting more heated. "Zionism is Racism" and "Zionism = World War 3" and "Down with Israel." Now, I've posted plenty about the issues of Palestinian/Israelis, but I looked at this particular protest as moronic. It's a freaking film festival. Yes, freedom of speech, amen and all that. But come on. Protest something else, like call for political action. Don't protest a freaking film festival. Sigh.

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But that was the big Jewish day. It was all in a period of about 5 or 6 hours. I mean, it was strange. Or maybe it wasn't. Either way, peculiar and makes me wonder about myself. I feel like I'm in a really weird place emotionally, physically, professionally, religiously, and in general. So here we are. I had a lot I wanted to talk about Jewishly, but we'll leave this at this right now.

Shalom, friends.