On October 17th, Jewcy will present a special Q&A with “Budrus” writer and director, Julia Bacha, after the 6:25 screening at Quad City Cinema.  Please join us if you are in New York.

It is one thing to know that peace-loving Palestinians exist, but quite another to join several hundreds [700, I have since learned] of Palestinians giving a standing ovation five minutes long to a film about non-violence. Last Wednesday night, I sat in an IMAX-sized theater in the West Bank Palestinian city of Ramallah for the grand opening of Budrus, a documentary about a village that successful relocated the security barrier off their lands through peaceful protest. I was overwhelmed, galvanized.

Budrus is a film that challenges everyone’s preconceptions — Jew, Arab, other — and aims to pry open space in reluctant hearts. Five years ago, the village of Budrus successfully averted the construction of the security barrier from cutting off a majority of their farming livelihood and through their cemetery. The film follows Ayed Morrar, Fatah activist turned community organizer, as he unites with local Hamas leadership, the town’s women led by his daughter, alongside Israeli activists. It heals doubts across multiple themes: the divide between Israelis and Palestinians, the rivalry between Fatah and Hamas, the place of women in Palestinian society, and the use of violence. A more inspiring combination couldn’t possibly be more remarkable to see, nor to witness its raccous support by the people of Ramallah.

Watching the film with hundreds of Palestinians made me anxious — did they even know what they were about to see? Did I? There is notable skepticism against non-violent means in Palestinian society, certainly well-justified. Indeed, my discomfort peaked anytime a Palestinian on screen was cudgeled by Israeli border police — the crowd would applaud his (or her) resilience.

But when teenage protesters briefly turn to rock-throwing on screen and scattered applause began percolating, it halted when Ayad and village elders denounced the use of violence. Violence, they said, only gives pretext for more brutal actions by the military and for branding them all as terrorists. After lights came up, I saw the loudest approval came from a gaggle of Arab teenagers. How important it was for them to see the success of non-violence after all other violent means failed. And how important it was for them to see the list of a dozen non-violent “popular resistance committees” growing since Budrus’ success five years ago, such as Bil’in, Nil’in and Sheikh Jarrah.

Also notable was the crowd’s eruption of applause to Ayad’s critical comment following Prime Minister Salam Fayyad’s brief visit to their protests. Obviously a politician being a politician, Fayyad left early. Ayad tells the camera, paraphrased, “Politicians should be with their people on the ground, not hiding in an office.” The eruption of wild, enthusiastic applause then made me wonder about the obvious political elites in the room. A stinging public rebuke.

I watched the film still with my Jewish communal filter activated, measuring how well Jewish and Israeli crowds would receive this film. (The Jerusalem screening of it was today, which I missed due to Shabbes. It was wildly received in New York.) Undoubtedly, it will push them outside their comfort zone. But I expect them to find a Palestinians utterly unlike their common understandings. They would meet Ayad, his daughter Iltezam, the Hamas representative, and the villagers in a light that strains contemporary stereotypes.

But most of all, I joined the overwhelming standing ovation because I remembered why I do what I do. Budrus captures on film many moments where a Jew or an Arab admits newfound love of the other side. The central clip is when sixteen-year-old Iltezam discovers that all Israelis aren’t alike, that there are many Israelis who are good people. My heart soared hearing her and her father’s total surprise that their Israeli invitees — strangers to the territories and unproven friends — jumped to the front lines to protect them. The villagers in turn protect the Israelis from being targeted. Mutual inspiration is found in each other.

Those moments were so much more than passing plot notes. For me, they were high notes climaxing every subplot of hopelessness, doubt, weakness, lack of faith, and budding hope I ever felt about our work here. We peace activists are often accused of being the rosy-eyed dreamers, but in reality we are just the best at burying the doubt, swallowing the fear, and doggedly plowing ahead despite all reason to give up. To taste hope again, I was overwhelmed. I spent a good deal of the film sheepishly wiping tears from my eyes and controlling my composure.

That night in Ramallah, the standing ovation wasn’t just for a film. It was for us as Jewish and Palestinian peaceworkers together. When Ronit Avni and Irene Nasser of Just Vision took to the stage along side Ayed and Iltezam, the applause even swelled durther. I wondered what the Jewish community would think if they could attend. What would change by them just being in this room, seeing this?

Kol hakavod to the producers of the film, colleagues I deeply admire, for bring us this film. And for this hope.

This article originally appeared at Jewschool.

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Beinart says the openness to moral inquiry regarding Israel is shut down by American Jewish leaders. For example, 23-year AIPAC veteran Steven Rosen said to Beinart on NPR on Sunday that any criticism of Israel in public makes one anti-Israel. Rosen said, "You’re either going to try to help protect it or you’re going to jump on the bandwagon of those who are trying to harm it. There’s only two camps here."

Attitudes like this make us unable to have some very necessary conversations. In the minds of us in our 20s and 30s, the State of Israel is painfully contradictory. It’s the only place where the public culture is Jewish – buses don’t run on Shabbat, the flag has a Star of David, and Jewish existance is purportedly secured. It’s also the place where Jewish preference discriminates against non-Jews, where security is continuity, and where universalism takes a backseat.

As a social justice activist, I care about the big questions of Israel’s identity, behavior, and social fabric. What kind of "Jewish" is the Jewish state? How does that impact her social fabric with non-Jews and other countries? Will all people treated fairly? I cannot determine whether or how much to engage with Israel if I’m not certain which values we share. My loyalty is not a given.

But I also care about the flourishing of Jewish culture, religion and life. Will Jews have safe haven in the world (that is, beyond New York, of course)? How best can Jews flourish and enjoy the benefits of other nations in the world?

These contradictions are driving many of us away without Israel in our lives.  What are our social justice values and what are our Jewish values — or are they the same?  

If the recent news and debates have driven you to consider these questions, or better yet – driven you to want to ignore Israel altogether – we at Jewcy invite you to join us as we explore Love, Hate and the Jewish State.

In full disclosure, Jewcy is the official media sponsor of this important event as we hope to attract people who aren’t normally part of these conversations.  In fact, the first 2 people who comment below will get free admission, but some quick "official rules".  You are ineligible if you a) know Ben or b) have attended other NIF events.  As Radiohead says, "We want the young blood."  Helen Thomas need not apply.

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If only that were true. Israel is quite the unfinished project. Beyond prevalent poverty, there are serious structural problems with minority rights, religious freedom, environmental protection, and the rights of migrant workers, gays, and women, for example. Not to mention the human rights issues of the territories. Sadly, progressive causes are in no short supply in the modern State of Israel.

It’s a blind spot in the Jewish psyche, one which the New Israel Fund has made its mission. Who else will support the young, new social justice organizations and grassroots activists of the Jewish state? Israel’s equivalents of the ACLU or the League of Conservation Voters need funding and training to make Israel a state worth living in.

Last year, 40 participants joined a Birthright Israel trip sponsored in part by the New Israel Fund. In addition to the normal Birthright stops, they met a dozen of Israel’s most inspirational activists and organizers.

On day one, a staff member of the Regional Council of Unrecognized Villages led a tour of a Bedouin village near Beer-Sheva, a ramshackle hovel of corrugated aluminum siding and cracked concrete without electricity or water. Several participants had recently visited New Orleans for Hillel service trips and the similarity of state disenfranchisement wasn’t lost on them. This was no touristy "ride the camel" Bedouin camp.

By day three, participants debated a panel of five young Jewish activists: an environmentalist, a Mizrahi empowerment organizer, an Ethiopian immigrant organizer, and an orthodox advocate of religious pluralism. (See here for short videos of these issues.)

And on day five, just after visiting the national Holocaust museum, the Migrant Workers Hotline took them on a haunting and unforgettable visit to a shelter for Sudanese refugees in the slums of south Tel Aviv. After escaping from Darfur, these refugees were sometimes arrested at the border, sometimes sent back to Egypt, sometimes brought to social workers, and sometimes ignored by authorities. The Hotline works to secure them permanent asylum, permissions to earn a living, and support to become members of society.

These grantees of the New Israel Fund are reshaping the fabric of Israeli society – over 800 organizations and $200 million over 30 years. To date, NIF is the only organization benefiting all members of Israeli society.

But who says social justice has to be a drag? If you’re in New York City on September 9, 2009, then please join the 14th Annual New Generations Benefit produced with JDub Records [disclosure: JDub is an advertiser on Jewcy], featuring hip hop DJ masters SOULICO with special guests  AXUM. Tickets are $36 and on sale through next Wednesday.

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