Constructing Kasun, Educator

I came here for so many reasons.  I wanted to understand the Middle East in a post 9/11 world.  I wanted to learn about religion, identity, history.  My cup is full.  I’ve had some amazing moments, maybe even some of the best in a lifetime.  I’ve also been challenged in ways I hadn’t anticipated.  It’s a lot to come here and try to understand a young country, struggling to form its national identity while facing the constant existential crisis of a world where many in it argue against its very existence.

I’m overwhelmed.  I’m saying goodbye to a group of people I’ve started to refer to as “the tribe.”  They’re fifteen individuals with such vast backgrounds, and I regret not having described them more here.  The conversations I’ve had have been rich and fruitful.  After talking with these people, learning their stories, sharing the struggle of trying to make sense of this experience, I’m ready to start a kibbutz where all our families join up with these people.

Sorry for all the generalities.  You might like some particulars.  We went to the Dead Sea just three days ago.  It’s surreal to get inside the clear turquoise water that has the consistency of baby oil and see the mountains and desert all around you.  It reminded me of a science fiction novel that C.S. Lewis wrote.  We were advised to stay in for only about 15 minutes, as the water isn’t good for your skin.  It was so hot–hot as bathwater– that, despite my love of water, I had to pull myself out.  The next morning I went in to see the sunrise and was relieved to find the temperature of the water had fallen through the night.  We also visited Massada, a UN World Heritage sight where Jews made their last stand shortly after the destruction of the Second Temple.  The views are spectacular… white and brown jagged desert mountains.  We later hiked through some of those mountains. 

I’m wondering what the personal implications of the trip are for me.  I was blindsided by the personal work I had to do to make sense of Israel—just hadn’t expected not having the framework to understand it.  The debate we hear in the US is so limited.  I’ve learned that somehow we have to build means of recognition of the dignity in each person, in each group of people.  I return to that Koranic idea of wanting for one’s neighbor what one wants for oneself.  I listen to the stories here and the way people don’t often dialog and admire those who have the courage to talk with people who represent groups who are often considered a real threat.  We must talk; we must share our stories. 

Yesterday during our morning lecture, a policy analyst and professor described some of the recent history of anti-Semitism in Europe and the Middle East.  We could argue about who in the world is more discriminated against and how and why, but for now I’ll stick to anti-Semitism.  I have little doubt that it’s very real and a barrier to the recognition of the dignity of Jewish people and robs away the dignity of those who perpetuate its lies.  I asked our speaker about whether or not he could find a causality for anti-Semitism, and he explained that he gave that up about fifteen years ago after seeing dramatic and disgusting depictions of Jews, including a recent political cartoon published in a respected British newspaper perpetuating the sick notion that Jews would drink the blood of Palestinian children.  There were other examples of strange manifestations he cited as well, and I am inclined to agree that there isn’t a way to find a causality.  Again, I have my American eyes, so historically young and open, and I was sickened to listen to the accounts of anti-Semitism.  On the other hand, I remember the bizarre conversations I had when I lived in Mexico where I was trying to disabuse people of some ridiculous notions they had about Jews, and I wondered why I was surprised.  Like so many others, I only see as far as I’m willing and able to see.  I have tried as much as I can to leave my eyes wide open.

I expect to add one or two more reflections about the experience, perhaps while traveling through Jordan for the next nine days.  I’m about to have my last dinner with “the tribe,” and I try to make peace with leaving them, leaving this land, leaving part of me here. 

This entry was posted on Friday, August 10th, 2007 at 9:44 am and is filed under Israel, education. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.