Arab-Israeli conflict

Happy 74th birthday, Israel!

Like many Jewish kids who go to religious school twice a week, my understanding of Israel and its history was, well, simplistic. That changed when I was 16.

I went to live, on my own, on Kibbutz Beit HaShita for a year as part of their “American school” program. It was transformative for me in many ways. Among other things, I learned that Hebrew was a living, dynamic language, Jews were a diverse and complex people and that the land’s history was complicated. Also, I found out that, even far away from home, if, heaven forbid, something went wrong, there were, as Mr. Rogers described, helpers all around me. It was like all these strangers were distant relatives, a feeling I’d never experienced before.

I was a teenager, speaking in my third language, at a bus stop late one night in Jerusalem. I was scared I would miss the bus and not make it back to my class or back to the kibbutz. The motherly woman at the bus stop engaged me in small talk. “Oh,” she said, “You sound like you come from Beit HaShita. My cousin lives there. Don’t worry. If you miss the right bus, you can spend the night on my living room couch.” I felt alarmed at the time, but the bus arrived and I got home safely. I still remember that kind person’s offer – and it’s been more than 30 years.

For several reasons, I’ve never been back to Israel. I’ve wanted to go but life got in the way. Also, I did a lot more learning, in undergraduate and graduate school, and the complexity of the political situation felt intense. I navigated the opinions expressed in the Arabic classes I took and those of friends from all over the world. Due to antisemitism or facing someone who “hated Israel,” it sometimes felt hard to explain where I’d lived. I didn’t feel OK about some of Israel’s policy choices at times. I believed (and still do) that Palestinians deserved their own state, much the way many Israelis do, but I wasn’t Israeli so I didn’t vote there. It wasn’t my place to shift their politics. I just didn’t want to erase Israel. Yet, I also wasn’t sure if my very limited travel money should be spent on that tourism industry.

All this began to change after my twins were born. Winnipeg is a city of immigrants. Many newcomers I met in the Jewish community here spoke Hebrew and had lived for awhile in Israel, even if they were born elsewhere. After many years of only using prayer Hebrew, my brain woke up. Modern Hebrew sometimes began coming out of my mouth again. Suddenly, I was standing at the coat racks outside of the preschool classroom, trying to help a 2-year-old new to the school from Israel and, whoa, the preschooler Hebrew just came out of my mouth at a quick pace. My twins were stunned!

After the May 2021 war in Israel and Gaza, I spent time unfollowing and changing my social media habits. I wanted less hate and more nuanced news sources. Some of that news now arrives in Hebrew first, with occasional other languages mixed in. I got back in touch with my Hebrew study partner from university days, who lives in Jerusalem. When we streamed services from synagogue or made a seder, I felt more connected to those prayers about the state of Israel than I had in a long time.

The recent deaths in Israel, caused by terrorists who killed civilians, border patrols and police officers, Jews, Druze, Christians, Israelis and even Ukrainian workers, hit me hard. It felt again like I was losing cousins and friends. Even amid the isolation of pandemic times, I keenly felt the loss of these Israeli souls.

Birthdays are funny things. There are years when my own birthday comes and goes without much fanfare. I make myself a chocolate cake, some relatives or friends call, nothing much happens. I’m not much for big parties. Even before the pandemic, sometimes my early January birthdays were frigid and unremarkable. This year, though, I anticipate Israel’s 74th with a more deeply felt celebration.

I’m not likely to be part of a big event on Yom Ha’atzmaut and, for now, my travel budget remains small. Rising antisemitism in the world makes me worried though. It reminds me of how we need to ensure this safe place for future generations. I am in awe of just how much Israel has accomplished so far – in technology, education, medicine and more.

This is a year when I feel a big need to celebrate Israel and its continued existence amid adversity. Sometimes, bad things happen. Finding a space for gratitude helps remind us of what we do have – places to call home.

Happy birthday, Israel! Wishing you and all your inhabitants a happy, healthy and peaceful year to come. May you grow in mitzvot and success this year – and wishing you many, many productive years to come.

Joanne Seiff has written regularly for CBC Manitoba and various Jewish publications. She is the author of three books, including From the Outside In: Jewish Post Columns 2015-2016, a collection of essays available for digital download or as a paperback from Amazon. Check her out on Instagram @yrnspinner or at joanneseiff.blogspot.com.

Challenging VIFF Films

Michal Wiets uses her great-grandfather’s diaries as the basis for her film Blue Box. (image courtesy)

At press time, the Vancouver International Film Festival lineup had not yet been announced. But the Independent received the names of some of the movies to be presented, as well as a couple of screeners.

Starting with the more challenging VIFF choices, most Jewish community members will either take a pass – with a roll of the eyes as to what film festivals often consider appropriately provocative fare – or get up the fortitude to watch the disparaging portrayals of Israel, so as to be better prepared to confront the criticisms, and perhaps learn from them. I admit that I have taken both routes in life and it was with great skepticism and high anxiety that I watched Michal Weits’s Blue Box.

Weits is the great-granddaughter of Yosef Weits (aka Weitz), a Russian immigrant to Palestine in the early 1900s who was instrumental in foresting Israel, as well as purchasing land for the Jewish government from the Arabs who owned it at the time (who were mostly absentee landlords and not the people who lived on and worked the land). Depending on one’s point of view, Weits was either a legendary pioneer to be tributed, as “the father of Israel’s forests,” or a notorious pirate of sorts, stealing land from Arabs and expelling them from it, as “the architect of transfer.” His great-granddaughter seems to believe he’s the latter, while he himself was conflicted.

The basis of the documentary is Yosef Weits’s diaries, some 5,000 pages. In them, he expresses his belief in the need for the reestablishment of the Jewish homeland and his fears for Jews’ continued existence (even before the Holocaust). He also details aspects of his work, with whom he negotiated land sales and meetings with David Ben-Gurion and other Israeli leaders. Presciently, he admits to misgivings about the way in which the Arab populations were being treated, predicting that such treatment would end up causing Israel severe problems if not dealt with.

The diary entries are fascinating and reveal some of the complexities of that era and of Yosef Weits’s legacy. The archival footage and photographs are compelling and expertly edited to make clear director Weits’s viewpoint – there is no mention of events that don’t fit her narrative, such as the expulsion of Jews from Arab lands.

Weits interviewed several family members about what she discovered from the diaries and other research. Their reactions are varied, with the generations closer to that of her great-grandfather more defensive and those closer to hers, more questioning, even condemning.

It might be helpful to watch this film with a non-Jew, as I did. In doing so, I found there were a few parts – such as the Israeli government’s relationship with the Jewish National Fund and why Weits named her film after the JNF’s donation box – that could have been better explained to viewers without prior knowledge. As well, a non-Jew is perhaps better able to keep in mind that every country deals with similar issues relating to how they were established, who was displaced, etc., and that Blue Box could be seen not only as a personal tale of one family, but as the beginning of a conversation about nation-building in general rather than as a stifling condemnation of Israel.

The same may or may not be said about The First 54 Years: An Abbreviated Manual for Military Occupation, directed by Avi Mograbi. There was no screener available for this documentary, which is described as “a ‘how-to’ guide to civilian subjugation along ethnic and religious lines, through the example of the Israeli occupation of Palestine. This is jet black, ice-cold political satire. But the harrowing statements of 38 former Israeli military personnel must be taken at face value as eyewitness testimony of decades of state-licensed crimes against humanity.”

Noam Imber plays a pothead teen in Quality Time — Noam Imber plays a pothead teen in *Quality Time. (image courtesy)*

Thankfully, there are at least a couple of more innocuous films in this year’s VIFF. One is the short Quality Time, written and directed by Omer Ben-David. When mom goes on a brief vacation, father (Shalom Korem) and son (Noam Imber) are left on their own together, and the awkwardness of their relationship is highlighted. Imber plays a pot-dealing and -smoking teen who’s just received his draft notice, while Korem is his recently retired – from the defence ministry – father. Both actors are wonderful and the story is quirky and fun, even if it doesn’t hold up logically at the end. While Israel-specific – a gym bag being blown up by the bomb squad is a key element – it has universal meanings.

The JI always sponsors a film at VIFF and, this year, we’ve chosen the animated feature Charlotte, about Charlotte Salomon, a German-Jewish artist who created her masterpiece work – called Life? Or Theatre? (comprising nearly 800 paintings) – between 1940 and 1942. She died in Auschwitz in 1943, at 26 years old. We’ll review that film next issue.

For more on the festival, visit viff.org.

Roots cultivates peace

Left to right: Ali Abu Awwad, Shaul Judelman and Rabbi Hanan Schlesinger. (photo by hiddensparksphotography.com)

By bringing together Jewish settlers and Palestinian refugees, Roots is trying to help achieve peace.

Rabbi Hanan Schlesinger is one of the leaders of this group, which was established in 2014 by Ali Abu Awwad and Shaul Judelman. In being involved, Schlesinger said he is following in the steps of Rabbi Menachem Froman, who, “for most of his career, for three or four decades, advocated getting Palestinians who we live among to come to a point of dialogue, reconciliation and understanding.

“Froman’s students started a movement called Eretz Shalom, Land of Peace,” explained Schlesinger. “This organization did some activities to bring together Palestinians and Israelis, but really never made it off the ground. When he died, in 2013 … the students who were following in his footsteps, in terms of dialogue connections between Palestinians and Israelis, felt that they had better do something to continue his legacy…. Otherwise, it’s going to be gone.

“Those students, with his widow, in the last week of January 2014, had a little event together with some Palestinians they’d met, which brought together about 15 people from each of the sides. And, 95% of the people there were Israelis and Palestinians who’d met the other side during their lifetime, [were] involved a little bit in reconciliation. The one person there who had never been before was me.”

Schlesinger was deeply affected by the event. He had lived in Gush Etzion for 30 years, and had never met a Palestinian. And, upon meeting some of them, he realized how distorted his idea was of Palestinians.

“I went into a spiritual introspection of revisiting who I was and what I was doing on this land,” Schlesinger told the Independent. “And I forced myself to begin a journey that was leading me to examine many of my core beliefs – realizing it wasn’t just me and my people, that there was another people here who also belong here.

“Without really meaning to, I found myself creating a movement that was embodying this need to open up eyes and hearts, and continue my spiritual process, as well as help others in the spiritual process … that we, the Jews, are not the only ones in this land … that there are other people here and we need to take into account their existence, their humanity, their needs, their suffering.”

Schlesinger met with Palestinians who had been working toward a solution for more than a decade, but only with secular Israelis in Tel Aviv. Until Schlesinger made the connection, they had not sat down with Jewish settlers.

“They’d never met their own neighbours, who are religious Jews, who are deeply connected to the land in a religious, historical sense,” said Schlesinger.

As was the case with Schlesinger, these Palestinians began to undergo a transformation in their understanding. The Israelis with whom they had spoken before then had explained Zionism as of 1948, sometimes as far back as the 1880s. But the secular Israelis had never explained, because, Schlesinger said, they didn’t really know themselves, the ancient Jewish connection to the land – the land from the Jordan to the Mediterranean.

“These Palestinians were getting to know the foundations of Zionism and the Jewish history, culture and religion … just as I was getting to know the fact that there are Palestinians and that they have been living here for many, many years,” said Schlesinger. “Both sides were undergoing revelations.”

Seeing these positive results on a micro-level, with one another, they decided to create a foundation for macro-transformation.

photo - Rabbi Hanan Schlesinger — Rabbi Hanan Schlesinger *(photo from Roots)*

According to Schlesinger, the Oslo Accord did not go far enough. He explained, “It didn’t involve religious Jews or settlers who are deeply connected to the roots of the conflict, the land and history. It marginalized them and swept under the rug, ignoring the roots of the conflict. On the Palestinian side, it didn’t involve observant Muslims. It didn’t involve people deeply connected to the land and history – the people today that they call ‘Hamas.’”

With about a thousand people from each side stepping up and coming to events, Schlesinger understands this is only a drop in the bucket. But, he takes solace in the fact that this is only the beginning.

“Those who do hear of us on both sides, most are critical or skeptical … [seeing us as] ridiculous or traitorous … [because we believe] the other side is worthy to talk to … is human,” said Schlesinger. “It’s really hard going, an uphill struggle. I’ll even say that, especially for our Palestinian partners, it’s particularly challenging. They’re being confronted in their societies and are asking themselves how they can allow themselves to go against the accepted narrative.”

Roots has created different activities with a focus on the youth, keeping in mind the larger goal of transforming Israeli and Palestinian societies.

“For the Palestinians, in their society, ‘dialogue’ is a dirty word,” said Schlesinger. “Dialogue is just a way for the Israelis to buy time before they completely take over their land and destroy them…. Again, their narrative is that Israelis just want to talk and that nothing comes of it.

“When we organize our summer camp and photography workshop, we have to really make it clear to Israelis that the goal is not [only] to get to know the Palestinians. The goal is to get to know them, so that we will have a foundation to bring peace and justice.”

Roots is now working with high school students, where the youth meet three times a month and have joint activities, meals, field trips and conversations about identity, narrative and truth. “This is creating ongoing connections that are powerful,” said Schlesinger.

The group is working to develop political awareness on both sides. They are finding that this aspect is moving much faster on the Palestinian side, as their situation is more dire.

“For the Israelis living here, life is more or less normal,” said Schlesinger. “Every once in awhile, someone is attacked with a knife or a gun and someone may be killed or injured, and that’s a terrible tragedy. But, most people are not killed in terrorist attacks and most don’t have children with relatives killed. Most people have normal lives.

“On the Palestinian side, it’s different. They live under military occupation every single day and they are suffering: suffering from poverty, disenfranchisement and from having their dignity stripped of them.

“I say all that to explain that although on the Israeli side the status quo, is not so bad and most people are willing to live with it … on the Palestinian side, the status quo is insufferable. Our hope is nothing less than peace, justice and reconciliation.”

A documentary has been made about Roots. Called The Fields, it focuses on the founding leaders on both sides – Schlesinger and Judelman on the settlers’ side and Awwad and Khaled Abu Awwad on the Palestinian side. A trailer of it can be watched at friendsofroots.net.

Rebeca Kuropatwa is a Winnipeg freelance writer.