AIPAC is the closest the Jewish community comes to endorsing and participating in blood sports. The first one takes place in the Verizon Center, which turns into an enormous Roman Colosseum, complete with political gladiators. But, instead of fighting each other with swords or tridents, they battle for the love and adulation of the crowd with applause lines, tossing piece after bloody piece of red meat to the fawning masses. The politicians feed off the cheers while AIPAC participants gnaw on the steaks.

But the other blood sport that AIPAC inspires takes place in Mt. Vernon Square, right outside the convention center. Yearly, a protest contingent inevitably appears, fully equipped with signs calling for a Palestinian state from the river to the sea, accusing Israel of war crimes and genocide, and reminding everyone that Zionism=Racism. Traditionally made up of far-right Islamists and far-left activists, with a few members of Neturei Karta thrown in for good measure, they merge with people protesting the Occupation to form an angry mob, only held at bay by the police and the enormous glass windows of the convention center. AIPAC participants, looking through the panes that separate them from their antagonists, treat this spectacle with the special sense of bravado that comes from a noxious mixture of self-righteousness and sturdy walls.

It was into this combative and troubled climate that I made my way, a volunteer for one of the organizations presenting at AIPAC. Last year, my first chance to attend the AIPAC Policy Conference, I jumped at the chance to watch presidential candidates pander to me, even if I didn’t necessarily agree with their positions. (As a New York liberal, the only chance I get to see a presidential candidate locally would be at the $10,000-a-head dinners in NYC when the candidate needs money to go down to Iowa, Ohio, or Florida and genuflect to those more strategic voters.) And it was quite a year to attend, surrounded by Trumpian drama and completed by the thundering applause he received for his ability to complete full sentences, read off a teleprompter, and hit at every frustration that the audience had with the past eight Obama years. I had floor seats to the American-Jewish community’s mass dereliction of duty, as they provided a standing ovation to a xenophobic white nationalist, simply because he echoed their talking points at that particular moment. Needless to say, it was not the Jewish community’s finest hour.

This year, I declined to attend the general sessions. The meat being thrown to the crowds this year was going to be rancid and the rhetoric either inflammatory or stale. It was preordained by the results of the election, the state of the American and Israeli democracies, and the hyper-partisan environment that was already infecting U.S.-Israel relations. I couldn’t bear to be in the same stadium with members of the administration, let alone watch my fellow landsmen fawn over the emissaries of a fascist.

But my discomfort extended beyond the speeches at the Verizon Center, and into the oft-repeated critiques of AIPAC’s role in implicitly enabling the continuation of the Occupation through silence and legitimizing the activities of two race-baiting right-wing heads of state through an unstoppable commitment to bipartisanship and an immovable rejection of any criticism of Israeli government policies. This wasn’t an organization that could speak for me or represented my views on Israel, Palestine, and the U.S.-Israel relationship in the way I would want. While I believe firmly in their mission, a stronger U.S.-Israel relationship, I continue to remain concerned about the detritus left by the wayside as AIPAC pursues its goal.

In an attempt to cleanse my palate, and perhaps to seek a morsel of absolution for my sin of association, I traveled beyond the confines of the convention center to the demonstration developing outside, where I knew that a different type of protest was brewing. This year, Mt. Vernon Sq. was emptier than usual, and almost exclusively controlled by IfNotNow, the scrappy upstarts of the Jewish world, who chose that spot to plant their flags (specifically Palestinian flags, from what I could see), and once again do battle against the gigantic institutions of the Jewish world. Shouting for an end to the occupation, striving to link the Jews inside to the historically unpopular Trump Administration, and summoning up a facet of the values they were taught in youth groups and religious school, the IfNotNow protests of Sunday afternoon sought a greater recognition that AIPAC and its support for the Occupation doesn’t represent all American Jews. (As if any statement could be agreed upon by every Jew in America. There’s even an anti-chicken soup contingent out there.)

I waded into this crowd of happy warriors, who were singing traditional Jewish songs I knew (albeit with unfamiliar melodies,) but my level of anxiety didn’t recede. I had only found the opposite side of the spectrum, AIPAC’s rhetorical counterbalance. I was in the presence of iconoclastic idealists, people whose sense of Jewish morality was so great, and whose belief in their cause was so strong, that they would damage or destroy pillars of American Jewry and tear the community and Israel asunder in order to further their more perfect world.

AIPAC’s implicit support for the occupation is mirrored by IfNotNow’s rejection of an explicit position on the continued existence of Israel as a Jewish and democratic state. Both sides are equally unwilling to risk taking a stand that might compromise their greater mission, while continuing to shelter people and positions working to destroy the two-state consensus and the continued existence of Israel as a Jewish and democratic state. Rejecting the occupation and supporting Israel seems like it should be a feasible political platform, but it was all but invisible. I couldn’t attain absolution for my sins from equally guilty sinners.

AIPAC ended without the hoopla that had plagued it a year ago, but the quiet conclusion should not fool anyone into believing that it signals concord. Uncertainty about Israel’s future, the growing rifts in the American Jewish community, and the potential collapse of American democracy leave all American Jews with a minefield of issues buried right below the surface. Public battles over agendas and associations have left nothing but scorched earth and bruised feelings, and everyone has retreated to their corners. As for myself, I continue to hope that the organizations with both a hope for and a stake in Israel’s future as a Jewish, democratic country will continue to grow, nudge the agenda, and reclaim their place as the true voices of America’s Jews, because we are in sore need of that rarest of qualities, a Jewish consensus.

Image of IfNotNow Protesters via Twitter.

The post IfNotAIPAC… What? appeared first on Jewcy.

Director Stephen Apkon’s first film, Disturbing the Peace, spotlights a group of Israelis and Palestinians formerly entrenched in violence that has come together to advocate and protest for peace. Jewcy got a chance to talk to Apkon about his eye-opening documentary.

Jewcy: What interested you in this topic? How did it come about?

I’ve always had a strong connection to the region and I’ve spent a lot of time there. Three or four years ago, I was in the process of creating a new nonprofit aimed at looking at the ways in which we’re creating the world we’re living in and the choices we make collectively and individually. I’m interested in how we get stuck in these national or personal narratives. That coincided with an invitation I had to make a film that would deal with the conflict in the region. Quite frankly, I felt that there was nothing new to say but agreed to go on a listening tour with my partner, Andy Young. We met with people all over the political spectrum.

At one point in the trip, I felt like indeed there was nothing new to say. Then we met these men and women from Combatants for Peace – that was a real awakening. I asked one of their members, Chen Alon, what is this organization really about? He replied, “We’re a community of people taking responsibility for our creation.” That was extraordinary. As far as I know, they are the only group of enemy combatants working together bi-nationally without arms during an ongoing armed conflict. It’s really incredible and transcendent.

Jewcy: This interview is taking place on American Election Day and we’re facing a country tomorrow where there will be people who disagree strongly and have to move forward. How does this film relate to that?

To me, this film speaks to all of us in an increasingly polarized world. It challenges us to ask the question, where are we willing to disturb our own peace? These narratives that we hold that dehumanize each other and prove our victimhood are held over other people. In this country, on Election Day, that same question comes up – how do we not see the other side as the other? As Lincoln once said: if you were born when they born, if you were taught what they were taught, you would believe what they would believe.

Jewcy: What surprised you about your interactions with the Combatants for Peace?

This project forced me to do my own work of looking at where my cultural narrative came from, my fears, and my identity and how they all play into my understanding of the conflict. It is challenging and painful work, but also extremely liberating. There were moments in which my own instinctual fears were triggered and I discovered the importance of working through that. I saw through the work of the Combatants for Peace a way of doing that – being willing to explore our perspectives through our own personal stories and experiences.

One thing that became very important to me in understanding all this felt very much like a very Jewish idea, the idea of integration as opposed to balance. The rabbis talk about Yetzer Hara and Yetzer Hatov, our inclinations to do evil or violence and our inclinations for kindness and compassion and love. It’s interesting the way that people often encounter the film, to look at it through their own lens and constantly be keeping score, to see whether it’s balanced. Have they portrayed our victimhood as much as the other so that we’re able to encounter the other story? What we think about as filmmakers is not whether it’s balanced but whether it’s integrated. When you think about balance, you think about a scale, as one side goes further out to the extreme, the other side does the same to compensate for it. As you get further and further out, it becomes more and more precarious, with potential for more and more chaos. The idea of integration is actually the understanding of the capacity for both of those extremes within ourselves.

Avner, a former elite Israeli soldier, said upon first meeting the Palestinians: “We had something in common, the willingness to kill people we don’t know.” What we share is a desire for peace. I understand those rabbinic teachings as the integration of both of those things, the recognition that we have the capacity for violence and we also have the capacity for compassion and love.

Jewcy: What resistance did you encounter in trying to make this movie?

It’s very interesting – the response to the film so far has been overwhelmingly positive, especially when people take the time to see it. Ultimately, it’s a very human story we can all connect with and experience the humanity of both peoples. That’s been very affirming, both within the region, in Israel and in Palestine, and in screenings in the United States and internationally. In addition to screening the film for mixed audiences, we have also shown it to only Jewish audiences and only Palestinian audiences. What’s fascinating about that is that the questions and fears that come up from each of those groups are essentially the same. Jews have an existential fear that they want to drive us into the sea, and it’s exactly the same fear that Palestinians express. Is there really someone on the other side who is a partner for peace, and is there anyone there who really cares about us?

Unfortunately, our leaders have perpetuated the sense, and the fear, that there isn’t a partner on the other side. I believe in many ways the international media has cooperated with that. When people see a different reality, it really connects to their longing, their desire, and their instinctual knowing that there is another way, both in this conflict and in so many other conflicts in our society.

Jewcy: For those inspired by the film, is there a way for them to get involved with the work of Combatants for Peace?

Absolutely. The response has been amazing with people who want to join in to this movement and are inspired to take action in their own lives. For the film to just be a feel-good film is not interesting. I’m gratified by the conversations that have been created and the actions being taken to work on this particular situation and to “disturb the peace,” in a sense, in regards to the other issues we care so deeply about to create a more just society. The title was very purposeful. Whose peace are they disturbing? It’s really the status quo. It’s the long legacy of Martin Luther King, Jr., Rosa Parks, and suffragettes getting arrested and making themselves uncomfortable to achieve real change.

Jewcy: What’s next? Will you make another film?

We are so immersed in this film that it’s like we’re drinking from a firehose. There’s so much interest, especially in creating a larger conversation about it, that this is really where we’re focused. What inspires me within Reconsider, our nonprofit, is to continue to explore the systems that we choose to create and to inspire a conversation around the ways we relate to the experience of life and to explore it as a more creative experience. The first step to do that is taking responsibility for our own creation, which circles back to exactly the words first spoken in our first meeting with Combatants for Peace.

Jewcy: Is there anything else you would like Jewcy readers to know?

For me, one of the fundamental ways in which I understand Judaism is its emphasis on curiosity, on questioning, and on struggle, ultimately focused on justice. I believe that at the core of this film and the work of Combatants for Peace are those ideals, so wherever people might come from, or whatever perspectives they hold, I believe that even with this issue, which is so emotional for so many people, that we’re capable of having a more open conversation, and that’s what I hope this film helps create.

“Disturbing the Peace” opens theatrically this Friday at Lincoln Plaza Cinemas and the Landmark Sunshine in New York City.

Images courtesy Stephen Apkon.

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There are so many intricacies to the existence and the politics of the small Middle Eastern country known as Israel that it’s nearly impossible to find someone who feels exactly the same way you do. There are those who condemn Israel’s military occupation of the West Bank and Gaza as apartheid and those who liken all Arabs and Palestinians to terrorists, and plenty of those at various points along the lengthy spectrum that divides the two extremes. In a stirring new documentary, based on a 90-minute one-man play, one actor and writer brings every opinion to one place, and it’s a formidable experience.

To truly capture every side and angle, Aaron Davidman portrays seventeen different characters, all with unique backgrounds and perspectives on what Israel means to them. Davidman changes his clothes occasionally, and sometimes his accent or inflection too, but this qualifies as a 90-minute lecture, rant, verbal exploration – however you want to define it. Davidman speaks quickly and with intention, jumping from one character to another with no warning and with furious intensity.

Davidman, an American Jew who doesn’t even speak with an Israeli accent, may not seem qualified on paper to analyze the situation. But it’s clear within the film’s opening minutes during an immensely powerful extended scene in which he covers the full spectrum of views that he absolutely knows what he’s talking about. He offers no judgment and presents all facts and opinions as such without putting special emphasis on any of them. He begins by trying to pinpoint the origin of this whole conflict, using the phrase “you might say” to suggest “The Catastrophe” of 1947 or “The War of Independence” in 1948 or further back when the British intervened during World War I. He intermixes tragedies and terrorist attacks which the Palestinians and the Israelis each claim without any warning, citing an irrefutably long list of potential causes for this permanent unrest.

Davidman has answers for every question and assertion – not a definitive breakdown of who is right or who is wrong, but rather the counterpoint that someone who does not agree would inevitably offer. One character he plays blames the Palestinians for inciting terror, and another shoots back that the settlements are the problem. About halfway through the film, Davidman encounters himself seated at the other side of the table and engages in a heated debate about the merits of Hamas and Fatah and who the true threat really is. One version of Davidman interrupts the other to note that he can read him like “a playbook for the American Jew,” to which his debate partner shoots back, “You’re an American Jew!”

This film drudges up a lot of problematic thoughts and elements that make the question of how to resolve this worsening conflict seem all but impossible. A reenactment of a pro-peace rally quickly turns to chants of “Death to the Jews!” as Davidman chimes in with the quiet objections of the peaceful protester who feels out of place and trapped when that becomes the prevailing sentiment, overtaking the true desire for harmony among peoples.

Just when it seems like there is some topic or argument that has not been mentioned, Davidman ensures that it comes bubbling up to the surface. The subject of the Holocaust becomes contentious when one Davidman character tries to anticipate his opponent’s next point and earns contempt for knocking down parallels between the Jews and the Nazis by reaching even further than his opponent had planned to, stopping short at the notion that the Palestinians have been oppressed and subjugated for fifty years. In rare moments like that, all of Davidman’s personalities take a moment to pause and acknowledge that not every argument can be addressed in a way instantly that feels truly complete or right.

Throughout the ninety minutes of director Dylan Kussman’s film, Davidman creates a number of characters with backstories that explain their views and the many events in their lives that brought them to their current place and perspective. Inhabiting and fleshing out those roles proves undeniably intriguing, and Davidman is particularly chilling when he begins passionately singing, chanting both Muslim and Jewish prayers with a convincing familiarity and spiritual commitment. Those moments, however, are not quite as strong as when Davidman simply spits out information and presents facts he has heard in his amassment of research for this film.

This film’s title has biblical origins related to wrestling with God, and the choice of Jerusalem as what is to be wrestled, since this film addresses all of Israel, is particularly poignant. A visit to the Wikipedia page for Israel, the most editable of all electronic sources, states numerous times that Jerusalem is the capital of Israel but that it is internationally unrecognized. Jerusalem is a hot topic that encompasses all of what Israel is, and for many is representative of the country as a whole.

There is no doubt that Davidman is still wrestling. By laying all of these clashing conceptions out and speaking them to an audience, Davidman underlines the importance of conversation. If just one person can come to at least hear what someone else says, perhaps there’s hope for peace. Even if that may not be possible or realistic, this is a fascinating character study of an immeasurably large population with a riveting central performance.

Wrestling Jerusalem will have its World Premiere at the San Francisco Jewish Film Festival on July 27.

Image source: Aaron Davidman in Wrestling Jerusalem

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The internet has gone bananas for a bunch of photos of Israel on Christmas morning—taken from space. The six photographs, which are jointly credited to astronaut Barry Wilmore and NASA, were uploaded to the International Space Station’s Facebook page on December 26—and they’re pretty stunning.

“Israel – completely clear – on Christmas morning from the International Space Station,” reads the accompanying caption. “Astronaut Barry Wilmore woke up early on Christmas to reflect upon the beauty of the Earth and snap some images to share with the world.”

So far the album has been liked 32,000 times, and shared over 6,000 times. It’s no Gangnam Style, sure, but compared to the ISS’s previous Facebook post (Christmas night in Nashville) and following post (a weekly video update), it’s a runaway success.

But did the beauty of the Holy Land, the Glory of Science, and the Birth of Christ quell the hot tempers of the internet commentariat? Alas, no. The comment thread quickly devolved into a vitriolic propaganda fest, because internet. On Facebook, as in space, no-one can hear you scream.

Anyway—enjoy the photos and happy holidays!

(Photos: NASA/Barry Wilmore)

The post Stunning Photos of Israel—From Space appeared first on Jewcy.

Editor’s note: Shani Paluch-Shimon is an Australian-Israeli oncologist working in Tel Aviv. During the Gaza war this past summer, she regularly emailed dispatches she called “war posts” to friends and family around the world. I was a recipient of some of these emails, as we’re acquainted through family friends. The following post was penned in late August, but only emailed last week. It is republished here with the author’s permission.

I wrote this piece towards the end of the war in August and placed it aside. After the tragic events of last week unfolded and the news here was filled with sensationalistic headlines of a new intifada possibly erupting, I remembered the piece. As with my “war-posts,” this piece of writing can be shared. My intention is by no means political—my intention is to share my experience of living in a complicated reality.

*

Spring 2004. I was a second year oncology resident. An impatient yet familiar knock sounded on my office door. My good friend and colleague burst in before I had time to even acknowledge the knock. She was nearly breathless, eyes gleaming with tears, excitement in her voice: “You won’t believe what just happened! A young beautiful Palestinian woman entered my office. She spoke perfect English. She has advanced breast cancer and is clearly in terrible pain. She entered my office alone and I asked her, ‘Who has come with you—are you here alone?’ And you won’t believe what she answered me! ‘I am not here alone, I am here with my God.'”

And so I was introduced to Fatma Bargouth—a 26-year-old Muslim Palestinian from Gaza, who touched the souls of all whom she met. When I first met Fatma her breast cancer was already incurable. She would travel as needed and whenever possible (and it was not always possible) from Gaza, through the Erez checkpoint, to our oncology department at Sheba Medical Centre. Oncology patients are often treated by several doctors, but in Fatma’s case it was different—each physician that encountered her was not willing to relinquish their role in her care and so it came to be that she was treated by a team.

During one particular hospitalization we sat and talked, sometimes for hours. I was 28, she was 26, and we spoke about the things that women in their late twenties talk about—life, love and our many dreams for the future. At different hours of the day Fatma would pray. She prayed through song—with a voice which stopped everyone in their tracks. When she prayed there was complete silence on the ward—everyone stopped to listen. One morning, an ultra-Orthodox patient in the neighboring room turned to me and said, “Her prayers are so very beautiful, so incredibly moving.” I looked at her, my mouth wide open—I knew that what she said was true and yet I had not realized how powerful Fatma’s ability to build bridges and touch the souls of people from all walks of life was. In our conversations about life and through listening to her prayers I learned more about belief, faith and spirituality than I had been taught by any rabbi in the religious seminary I had attended when I was 18.

In mid-2004, Fatma was scheduled to receive further treatment in our department. We eagerly awaited her return from Gaza. It was a time of unrest, of horrific terrorist attacks on checkpoints and within Israel, on civilian targets. Reports started arriving of a young woman, a cancer patient, stuck at the Erez checkpoint—unable to enter Israel because of an across-board tightening of the checkpoints, because of the volatile security situation. She was refusing to return to Gaza because her pain medications were running out and she desperately needed to reach us—in keeping with the medical philosophy across many Middle-Eastern countries, the local Gazan medical teams gave oncology patients limited access to opioid pain medication. Many individuals and organizations were involved in trying to ensure her safe passage, but to no avail.

One morning, two of our doctors decided to drive out to the Erez checkpoint to help. One doctor—a stereotypical single, left-wing, “Tel-Avivit.” The other—a religious woman, married with children, often referred to by the patients as “the settler doctor” (though in fact she was not a settler, only appearing so in her head-covering and dress code). Two women, who neither inside nor outside the walls of the hospital would have ever sat together for a coffee. Yet here they were on a united mission. So was Fatma’s magic—she built bridges between people, between cultures, between religions.

Fatma died from advanced breast cancer late in 2004.

Upon marking my first decade in Israel, I shared the story of my move to Israel and the impact that it had on me with my colleagues. I retold the story of Fatma Bargouth—for me, she represented everything that was both beautiful and ugly about my country. All those in the room who had been involved in her care cried. One colleague turned and asked me “It has been so many years—how did you remember her?” to which I responded, “How could anyone forget her?”

Fatma—it is ten years since we met, ten years since we parted. Did you know that I would still think of you? Did you realize that you taught me one of my most significant lessons on spirituality and humanity? Did you dare to dream that you would leave such a long-lasting imprint on people’s souls?

In these difficult days, as I lie at night anxious and worried, between sleep and wake-fullness, I wonder and hope if maybe you could visit us in a dream. I invite you, I beg of you, to visit in a dream—to whisper your secret to us. Maybe if we knew your secret, your craft of building bridges, we could overcome the seemingly unbridgeable abyss between our people and better days would come.

Shani Paluch-Shimon is an oncologist working in Tel Aviv.

(Image: Shutterstock)

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Earlier this month, Google banned three violent anti-Hamas games from its Play Store. The games—which could be played on any Android smartphone—were uploaded in the last week of July, when Israel’s Operation Protective Edge was at its peak.

Though the games weren’t quite as successful as Flappy Bird, they took off like wildfire. One was a spoof of Whac-A-Mole called ‘Whack the Hamas.’ A description of the game ‘Gaza Assault: Code Red’ challenged potential users: “Terrorist cells are launching rockets into your country, do you have what it takes to protect your citizens?” The rules of the app were simple: the player would take control of an IDF drone equipped with powerful weapons, and aim to hit targets in Gaza. It was loosely based on real IDF tactics. ‘Bomb Gaza,’ which was posted on July 29, simply required the player to “drop bombs and avoid killing civilians.” Before Google removed the app on August 4 it was downloaded over 1,000 times.

Many Google users expressed outrage in the feedback section of the ‘Bomb Gaza’ page, reports The Telegraph. “To think that you can turn genocide, murder and ethnic cleansing into a game is absolutely disgusting,” said one. “My beloved brothers and sisters are dying in Gaza and some stupid ignoramus decides to make a game like this,” said another.

Speaking to The Telegraph, Chris Doyle, the director of The Council for Arab-British Understanding, said these games normalize violence. “We’ve seen huge amounts of hate language and bigotry over the past few weeks. It’s the last sort of things that’s needed… These games glorify the horror and violence of the bombing of Gaza.”

“You can have video games that deal with war, but when you base it in a reality of a conflict that’s going on right now it’s extremely problematic,” he said.

Google removed the games from the Play store in the first week of August. A company spokesperson said “we remove apps from Google Play that violate our policies,” but would not comment on the Gaza games.

The Israeli developers of these apps have a different perspective altogether. One of the developers of ‘Bomb Gaza,’ Roman Shapiro, told The Daily Beast that “the game was a joke made in 2 hours.”

“It is based on avoiding killing civilians,” he said. “As usual, Jews are demonized by everyone. Not surprised. Fuck them all.”

The developer of ‘Whack the Hamas,’ Avishay Segal, told The Times of Israel that he saw the removal of his game as “unfair.”

“Our app doesn’t advocate for any type of violence against groups of people based on anything, be it on their race or ethnic origin, religion, disability, gender, age, veteran status, or sexual orientation/gender identity,” he explained. “We developed the app only for fun and relaxation, for the people who are being killed every day by a terrorist group.”

(Image: Screenshot by author)

Related: An Open Letter to Selena Gomez, From Two 12-Year-Old Fans in Southern Israel

The post Anti-Hamas Game Apps Spark Controversy in Google Play Store appeared first on Jewcy.

Dear Selena,

I’m writing to you on behalf of two 12-year-old girls living in Southern Israel who were upset by something you posted to Instagram a few weeks ago—a post which expressed sympathy for the people of Gaza, but also provided a space for your followers to condemn and delegitimize the State of Israel in the comments.

I met Noa and Yarden* in Southern Israel while I was doing some reporting for a few stories about religion and conflict in that region. This may be a bold statement, but they’re your biggest fans—seriously, your biggest fans. “Selena Gomez,” cried Yarden. “I love her! I love her music!”

And then you let them down. You hurt them. You prayed for Gaza, but not Israel, taking sides in a conflict that is not your own. By doing that, you isolated some fans.

Selena, Noa and Yarden have something to say. They love you. They idolize you. That’s why they want to say this—because they’re worried that their idol hates them simply because they’re Israeli. I wanted to relay their message to you. The remainder of this letter is based on my conversation with them.

“Everything you say about the Arab-Israeli conflict is wrong. It’s so much more complicated than anyone not living here can imagine,” Yarden said. “Even the people in central and northern Israel don’t understand it they way we do. So, Selena, why did you say what you did?”

“To you, Rihanna, and anyone else who has anything ill to say about us and our people,” Noa added, “come visit us, spend a day in our life and see what it’s like.”

Israelis, like all Middle Easterners, are known for their generosity and hospitality. “We’d be more than happy to host you for however long,” Yarden said. “You can even stay with me or Noa—we have safe rooms, bomb shelters, in our houses. We have to, given the number of rockets that are fired at us daily.”

Noa and Yarden live in Israel on Kibbutz Yad Mordechai, a small village of 500 people two kilometers from the Gaza border. They’re the last Israeli residents before the border crossing between Israel and Gaza. On any given day, they are pummeled with rockets. On a good day they have two warning sirens—in Hebrew they’re called tzeva adom. On a bad day they can have as many as fifteen.

“From the time the sirens signaling the rockets sound, we have 15 seconds—just 15 seconds—to run for safety,” Noa explained, with a twinge of lingering fear in her voice. “Usually, the Iron Dome intercepts the rockets before they can harm us. When that happens, everything shakes from the booms—my house shakes, our whole neighborhood shakes. And in turn, we all shake. It’s terrifying. There is nowhere to hide.”

“We live in our shelters now,” she continued. “They still shake, a lot, but when shrapnel falls from the intercepted rockets, at least it can’t hit us. We hardly ever leave our shelters.”

At that moment, I must interject, the girls and I heard a bone-rattling boom—a boom that you feel in your core. I jumped, but the two girls just looked at me and said, “don’t be afraid. That is us bombing Gaza—it’s not here. Nothing will hurt us from that boom.” A few moments later, a plume of light grey smoke appeared through the trees in the distance. “Gaza is close to here,” Noa said. “Very close,” Yarden added.

“We”—meaning the Israeli Defense Force—”don’t bomb to hurt,” they felt the need to tell me. “We bomb to defend. In Gaza the terrorists bomb because they want to terrorize us—and they do!”

“I remember on the first day of the war, oh, what a trauma we experienced,” Yarden recalled. “Noa and I were on the beach very close to here. We were enjoying ourselves, swimming, you know, because it was hot. And then, all of a sudden, we hear a siren. As daughters of the south, we knew what that meant. We had 15 seconds to find shelter. But we were in an open space with nowhere to go. We saw the rockets approaching overhead. It was terrifying! With nowhere to hide, we did the next best thing: we dropped on our stomachs and covered our heads, lest shrapnel from an intercepted rocket fall on us.”

8 seconds.

7 seconds.

6 seconds.

5 seconds.

“And then two loud booms. Everything shook. The Iron Dome had saved us. We were safe. But with rockets being targeted at our homes, could we ever be truly safe?”

“Between me and my classmates who live in villages like Zikim, Carmia, and Sderot, all over Southern Israel,” Noa said, “rockets are aimed at us all the time. Without end.”

“But we live in the South of Israel,” Yarden added. “We’re used to this way of life already. We were born into this. It’s our life.”

Noa’s family has lived in Yad Mordechai since the kibbutz was founded in 1936. They came here to escape anti-Semitism in Europe. They built the kibbutz up with their own hands. They defended it from Egyptian invaders in 1948—there were only fifty kibbutzniks with twenty outdated guns between them, facing hundreds of trained Egyptian soldiers. But the kibbutzniks, Noa’s family, persevered. They then lived in peace with their Arab neighbors in Gaza. Sure, there were tensions and flare-ups, but for the most part they lived in peace. And then just after Noa and Yarden were born, the rockets started.

“At this point, I’m not scared of the sirens anymore,” Noa stated plainly.”I’m scared of the booms, but not even so much. I’m really more scared of the terrorists who are shooting them.”

“Why can’t we just live in peace?” asked Yarden. “We hope the kids in Gaza are good and safe,” she said. “We don’t wish this kind of trauma on anyone. I’m sad that everyone dies. We can’t live like this. Let’s just be neighbors in peace.”

“That’s all we want here,” Noa said. “Peace.”

I’m paraphrasing now, but the girls wanted you to know that you’re still one of their heroes. Look at everything you’ve overcome in your life! But you hurt them. They just want you to understand before you isolate them, before you dismiss them and their families as bad people.

So, will you take them up on their offer and visit? Will you see their life and cheer them up?

On behalf of your fans in Israel,

Rachel

*The girls’ names have been changed.

Related: In Lieu of Tel Aviv Concert, Neil Young Donates to Budding Israeli & Palestinian Musicians

(Image: Randy Miramontez / Shutterstock.com)

The post An Open Letter to Selena Gomez, From Two 12-Year-Old Fans in Southern Israel appeared first on Jewcy.

On July 24 in New York City, adults, teenagers, and children participated in an “art vigil” organized by the not-for-profit Israel advocacy organization, Artists 4 Israel.

Just north of Washington Square Park, one group of participants created drawings with oil crayons and reflected on a vigil, consisting of art and electric candles, set up to honor those suffering on both sides of the conflict. Across the street, beneath the Washington Square arch, dozens of men and women—many with Israeli flags draped across their shoulders—held hands and danced as they sang “Am Yisrael Chai.” Interspersed were participants holding signs that read “Free Palestine is Code for Kill the Jews,” and “Hamas Ruins the Lives of Innocent Children.”

These juxtaposing responses to the Gaza conflict—one group focusing on solidarity and politics, the other more meditative—reflect the range in attitudes of American Jews towards the current conflagration. (In fact, The Times of Israel reports that the art vigil combined with a “concurrent” but seemingly unrelated pro-Israel demonstration.) But between these factions was there was a common thread of feeling: support for Israel, and a desire to see Hamas’s terror capabilities extinguished.

Participants at the event expressed concern at the rising fatalities—now at 1,650 Palestinian civilian deaths, 63 Israeli military deaths, and three Israeli civilian deaths—and appreciated the ability to have a place to create, pray, and express support for Israel.

Artists 4 Israel was formed in 2009 during Operation Cast Lead, in response to the growing number of international artists boycotting Israel and refusing to perform in the country. Its aim is to refute “misconceptions that the arts community does not support Israel” as well as “beautify the landscape and strengthen the spirit of the people of Israel and the Middle East.”

“This is a first of a kind art vigil and the idea is paint and prayer—whichever people connect with and it’s in support of Israel,” said Lance Laytner, public relations officer for Artists 4 Israel. “The hope of the art exhibit is it does something that only art can do.”

Ariel Maron, who is raising funds through an Indiegogo campaign to purchase equipment for soldiers in the IDF, said he had come to “cheer on Israel, show support for all the Jews in Israel, and promote other countries to do the same.”

“It’s unfortunate what’s happening in Europe, in Turkey, and Paris with the burning of the synagogues and hopefully we’ll have more non-violent rallies,” he continued. “We love Muslims, we love Arabs; we don’t like terror.”

Several vigil participants expressed concern about the fact that Hamas is using children as human shields.

“I think people need to understand and know that there is terrorism going on right now in the Middle East. What I’m the most upset about—as is my organization—is that children are being used as human shields by Hamas,” said Hillary Markowitz of Mothers Against Terrorism. “Hamas is telling people, ‘put your children here’.”

The exhibit also featured a Bomb Shelter Museum, a structure constructed with the same dimensions and thickness as the shelters used in Sderot, Israel. Inside the shelter, a screen played footage of families running from rockets fired by Hamas.

On July 22, Artists 4 Israel set up the Bomb Shelter Museum in the Upper Senate Park, near the capital building in Washington, D.C., inviting President Obama, Vice President Biden, Secretary of State John Kerry, and all congress members. But achieving the turnout they desired was described as “a challenge” in their press release.

“There has been a lot of advice from U.S. officials and even some unexpectedly snide comments—from Secretary Kerry in particular—about how Israel should handle the current crisis,” said Artists 4 Israel Executive Director Craig Dershowitz in a statement about the Washington exhibit. “But those same officials have never had to experience grabbing their children and running for their lives. They say you cannot understand a person’s decisions until you have walked a mile in their shoes. We’re not asking a mile, just as many steps as you can take in 15 seconds.”

Pastors, rabbis, and an imam from the NYU Islamic Center, Khalid Latiff, were invited to participate in the Washington Square Park vigil. Imam Latiff lent his support, but was unable to attend because it was the last night of Ramadan. Pastor Dan Quagliata of The Bridge Church and Rabbi Scott Matous of the New Synagogue both attended, and jointly led a prayer session at the end of the event. “We’re for peace in Israel. We’re for peace in the Middle East. We’re for peace in all the communities—and to try to show from a faith-based perspective that everybody’s welcome,” said Rabbi Matous.

Elisa, a 19-year-old woman whose brother is a lone soldier in the Israeli Defense Force and who is getting ready to make Aliyah herself, drew the emblem of the IDF inside the star of David. Her mother drew two small caricatures to represent an Israeli soldier helping a Palestinian child. “A lot of people find peace, find love with connecting with other human beings, and art is a form to do that in,” said Elisa.

As part of the outreach aims of the organization, the drawings made at the event will be distributed to bomb shelters located in schools and daycare centers throughout Israel.

Yvonne Marie Juris is a second year student in the Graduate School of Journalism at Columbia University. She writes about religion and the arts. Follow her on Twitter at @fancifemini.

(Image: Seth Wolfson, Artists 4 Israel)

The post Israel Supporters Gather to Draw, Pray, Demonstrate at “Art Vigil” in NYC appeared first on Jewcy.

RollingStone.com reports that Neil Young has cancelled his Tel Aviv concert, scheduled for July 17, due to the escalating conflict in Gaza and Israel. With rockets being intercepted daily above Tel Aviv, and 30,00 fans expected to show up to Hayarkon Park for the gig, the security risk was simply too great.

“It is with heavy hearts and deep sadness that we must cancel our one and only Israeli concert due to tensions which have rendered the event unsafe at this time,” said a representative for Young. “We’ll miss the opportunity to play for our fans and look forward to playing in Israel and Palestine in peace.”

But, happily, there’s a small silver lining to the disappointing news: Young has pledged to donate money to two organizations that foster musical collaboration between Israeli and Palestinian youth—the Louise & Tillie Alpert Youth Music Center of Israel (AKA Beit Alpert), and Heartbeat.

According to The Times of Israel, Beit Alpert “serves as the home to music ensembles of children from all over Jerusalem, including the Arab Youth Band and the Ensemble for Jewish & Arab Youth.” Hearbeat, which was founded in 2007 with funding from Fulbright and MTV, runs programs supporting about 100 youth musicians from across Israel and the West Bank. Their programs are scholarship-based, “ensuring equal access to all.”

Neil Young, you’ve got a Heart of Gold.

(Image: DFree / Shutterstock.com)

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Four Palestinian boys between the ages of 9 and 11, all cousins, were killed in an Israeli airstrike on a Gaza beach on Wednesday morning. The Washington Post‘s Israel correspondent William Booth is stationed in a hotel close to the location of the strike, and wrote a graphic eyewitness account of the event:

We saw a small fisherman’s shack on the quay, churning with gray smoke.

Then we saw a gang of kids running from the shack, down the breakwater and onto the sand, hurtling toward al-Deira. A couple of waiters, the cook and a few journalists started waving at them. Run here! Then a second strike landed right behind them.

The staff were yelling, “They’re hurt!”

A half-dozen kids made it to the hotel. A young man also reached safety and fainted. He was bleeding from the abdomen…. Two young terrified kids were bleeding and injured, and they were quickly bandaged on the floor of the terrace, where guests usually eat skewers of grilled chicken, suck on water pipes and watch the sun go down.

Meanwhile, the first Israeli victim of the conflict, Dror Khenin, was buried in the city of Yahud today. Sophia Jones, The Huffington Post‘s Middle East correspondent, posted a picture of the funeral on Instagram with the caption: “Sobbing relatives. Many ppl here to mourn. Meanwhile in Gaza, over 200 people have been killed, mostly civilians. Anger on both sides.”

Amidst this bleak news, it’s worth reading Etgar Keret’s July 14 op-ed in the Los Angeles Times, in which he suggests redefining the way we talk about the resolution of the conflict. Instead of calling for peace—a romanticized, “debilitating word”—Keret suggests that Israelis and Palestinians use the term “compromise” instead:

Peace, by definition, is compromise between sides, and in that kind of compromise, each side has to pay a genuine, heavy price, not just in territories or money but also in a true change of worldview.

That’s why the first step might be to stop using the debilitating word “peace,” which has long since taken on transcendental and messianic meanings in both the political left and right wings, and replace it immediately with the word “compromise.” It might be a less rousing word, but at least it reminds us that the solution we are so eager for can’t be found in our prayers to God but in our insistence on a grueling, not always perfect dialogue with the other side.

True, it’s more difficult to write songs about compromise, especially the kind my son and other kids can sing in their angelic voices. And it doesn’t have the same cool look on T-shirts. But in contrast to the lovely word that demands nothing of the person saying it, the word “compromise” insists on the same preconditions from all those who use it: They must first agree to concessions, maybe even more — they must be willing to accept the assumption that beyond the just and absolute truth they believe in, another truth may exist. And in the racist and violent part of the world I live in, that’s nothing to scoff at.

Perhaps that’s the best we can hope for now.

(Image: Smoke rises after an Israeli air strike in Rafah, in the southern Gaza Strip July 16, 2014. Credit: SAID KHATIB/AFP/Getty Images.)

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