Planting Justice

Shai Gluskin — Fri, 17 Apr 2009 14:54:52 -0700

Click on the photo to watch Planting Justice, RHR-NA's video about the November, 2008 human rights mission to Israel and the West Bank.

In honor of Israel's 60th anniversary and the 20th anniversary of Rabbis for Human Rights, Rabbis for Human Rights—North America led a human rights solidarity mission to Israel and the West Bank. The mission was part of In Pursuit of Justice, a campaign to support the efforts of Rabbis for Human Rights and all those in Israel working to fulfill the dream of an Israel that upholds equality and justice for all-Jews and Arabs alike.

(If you are unable to view the video by clicking on the picture, you may view it at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3ibxs714xak or you can download Adobe Flash, which may then allow you to view the video here, by going to http://www.adobe.com/).

The Morning Commute

Lori Shaller — Thu, 15 Jan 2009 12:24:53 -0800

The author of this piece, Ali Berlow, was a participant on the RHR-NA Human Rights Mission to Israel and the West Bank last November and wrote this piece, which was inspired by a coffee vendor at the checkpoint between Bethlehem and Jerusalem, while on the trip.

The Morning Commute

November 27, 2008

A man sells coffee and tea on the street. From under his moustache, a gold tooth glimmers in an easy smile. His makeshift shop lies at the base of a high metal fence that's laced with razor wire like icing on a cake. The fence protects a building whose very foundation was built on the fault lines of fear. Though devoid and sterile it still breeds like roaches more fear and its ugly offspring, hate. This stony ediface is a checkpoint between Bethlehem and Jerusalem. While I stand inside I think this is a land of hard things, Israel. Softness is steam from the hot drinks the man outside pours and just as ethereal.

In the lost hours of pre-dawn mornings, he brews thick Turkish coffee in an elegant cone-shaped pot etched with exotic design. Its spout arches, opening up like a petal in bloom. The long straight handle is wrapped in duct tape meant to shield his calloused hands from burns. A few squat stainless steel teapots boil water like engines over a charcoal grill that's held up on either end by blocks of Jerusalem stone blackened from use.

His morning rush is over by the hour the dawn breaks into long shadows once the sun has finally risen high enough to begin to warm the coldest of desert nights. His customers come from the other side - from Bethlehem into Jerusalem, from Palestine into Israel. They've waited a long time and they are thirsty.

Starting at 3am, 4am, every work day, thousands of commuters stand en masse on the Bethlehem-side to funnel one by one, through this structure dedicated to the bureaucracies of security: paperwork, permits, magnetic id cards and the harsh realities of today's guarded zones: metal detectors, body searches, handscans and no toilets.

Everyday the most heavily-armed are ordered to hover and keep watch from up above, pacing on their paths of steel.

Everyday his customers are routed through the deepening abyss of separation in order to work, to go to school, to get health care, to pray at the holiest of sites.

Everyday his customers pass by a thick glassed-in booth and are spoken to in foreign tongue through muffled intercoms or loud bullhorns - dividing ever-more both natives by language and by culture, the Arab and the Jew.

Ali Berlow is also the author of A Cook's Notebook, Reflections on Food and Life, which can be found at http://www.cooksnotebook.com/

Instructions for Planting

Margery G — Tue, 25 Nov 2008 14:05:21 -0800

by Margery G

Instructions for Planting a Tree in the Occupied Territories:

1. Find a non-profit, like Rabbis for Human Rights, that can buy the
trees.

2. Scrounge up whatever hand tools you can find.3. Bring out a group of Israelis and Internationals who can help Palestinians plant and shield them from harassment by the settlers and the army.

4. Be on time. The separation barrier now separates many villages from their land and the Palestinians can only get through to their fields at certain times of the day.

5. Unload trees from truck and spread them out to show ownership of as much of the land as possible.

6. Deal with Israeli soldiers immediately on the scene who want to know what you¹re doing there and demand to see proof that the land does in fact belong to the Palestinians.

7. Use picks and shovels to dig quickly as possible into the parched and rocky soil. Since there are only half a dozen tools for 40 people, try to look busy even if you aren't doing anything.

8. Set the trees in the holes. Pack the dirt back in around the tree. If you don¹t have tools, push the dirt back in with your hands. Make a little trough around each trunk to catch whatever rain may come.

9. Take a look at the water truck that can't get through to water the trees because the main road to the village has been blocked by the ar. 10. Stop working when a settler with a rifle drives up claiming that the land belongs to a Jew and the Palestinians have no right to plant there. The settler is followed by more army jeeps. Planting is done for the day.

Instructions for Planting a Tree in Israel:

1. Meet a regional planning coordinator with about a dozen teenage volunteers at a community park. Tree planting is part of environmental justice program designed to bring green areas to Jerusalem¹s poorer Jewish neighborhoods.

2. Unload trees provided by the city.

3. Make separate wheelbarrows of fertilizer and mulch.

4. Work in teams of 2-3; 1 shovel per team, to dig holes 3x the width of the root ball.

5. Mix fertilizer with dirt in a 1:10 ration (too much will burn) and partially fill in the hole.

6. Bring over hose and fill hole with water.

7. Carefully open up the tree¹s roots and put tree into wet soil.

8. Fill in with more fertilized soil.

9. Add layer of mulch.

10. Decide where you want to go for cappuccino. Planting is done for the day.

Rachel Weeping

Carol Towarnicky — Fri, 21 Nov 2008 10:02:04 -0800

by Carol Towarnicky

Thus said the LORD:

A cry is heard in Ramah--
Wailing, bitter weeping--
Rachel weeping for her children.
She refuses to be comforted
For her children, who are gone.

Thus said the LORD:

Restrain your voice from weeping,
Your eyes from shedding tears;
For there is a reward for your labor

-- declares the LORD:

They shall return from the enemy's land.
And there is hope for your future

-- declares the LORD:

Your children shall return to their country.

-- Jeremiah 31:15-17

An ancient tradition—popularized (and trivialized) by celebrities like Madonna and Britney Spears—says that a red string that has been wound seven times around the Tomb of Rachel acquires the power to protect its wearer from the "Evil Eye " and from disease, poverty, accidents or other misfortune.

Eventually on our trip, we will get red thread from women at the Western Wall in exchange for tzedakah. But we will not see Rachel's tomb, which is supposed to provide the thread's mystical power. It is walled off from Bethlehem by the so-called "segregation barrier "that winds through the West Bank and Jerusalem.

On this side of the wall, which looks to be 30-feet high, dwarfing the humans who stand beside it, is graffiti with messages:

"Blessed are those who mourn."
"From the graves of our marters (sic) spring a new nation."
"We must accept finite disappointment but never lose infinite hope." MLK
"Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that." MLK
"1 Bulldozer: $.5 billion The Wall: $2 billion U.S. Aid to Israel: $3 billion Freedom: Priceless"

For almost three millennia, Jeremiah's words about Rachel, the compassionate mother, provided consolation and hope to Jews who dreamed of returning to their land in peace. Is it possible, now, so close to our mother's tomb but so far away, to read the verses and not think of all the children in this land?

Weep, Rachel, for your children—and for theirs.

(photos by Lance Laver)

Micah

Carol Towarnicky — Fri, 21 Nov 2008 10:02:04 -0800

by Carol Towarnicky

Spray-painted on the Separation Barrier that walls off Rachel's Tomb from Bethlehem:

"Micah 6:8
Read it. Do it."

Later I look it up:

"He has told you, O man, what is good; And what does the LORD require of you? To do justice, to love kindness, And to walk humbly with your God?"

(Photo by Lance Laver)

Through the Eyes of Children IV - Silwan/East Jerusalem

Carol Towarnicky — Fri, 21 Nov 2008 07:15:01 -0800

by Carol Towarnicky

Fakhri abu-Diav was delayed meeting us last Sunday at the home in the al-Bustan neighborhood in Silwan in East Jerusalem that had been demolished about 10 days before. He had still been in court with several teenagers, aged 13 and 14, who had been dragged from their beds before dawn and arrested and charged with violent resistance to the authorities during the November 5 demolition.

When Fakhri joined us later, the kids were still in court, facing fines and a criminal record "They say we¹ve built everything illegally but we asked for permits, we wanted to do everything legally," Fakhri said. "We pay taxes but we have no services here; the only service is the bulldozers."

The entire neighborhood of houses, most of them built in the 1980s and 1990s, is slated for demolition to expand the King¹s Valley archeological park that surrounds the Old City. At the same time, settler organizations are developing a compound in the neighborhood. Israeli flags denoting settler outposts dot the neighborhood. "It¹s part of an overall attempt to make life impossible here," said Fakhri. "Are all means justified?"

During the demolition, some young people threw stones and others staged a sit-down strike, but the teenagers who had been arrested were not involved they were in school at the time, said Fakhri. "All I can think about," he said, "are these children in court. One of them was begging me to get him a sandwich." Fakhri abu Diav shook his head. "These 13 and 14-year-olds are going to be 20 year olds." (Photos by Lance Laver)

Planting Trees for Peace

Brian Walt — Mon, 17 Nov 2008 14:14:39 -0800

Last week we read parshat Lech Lecha. God tells Avraham, Go forth from your land, your birthplace and the home of your family to the land that I will show you.

This week Rabbi Tirzah Firestone and I led a group of 40 Americans on a Rabbis for Human Rights Mission to Israel. Our mission, Nurturing Justice, is a campaign in honor of Israel's 60th birthday and the 20th anniversary of the founding of Rabbis of Rabbis of Human Rights. We have come to Israel in solidarity with Rabbis for Human Rights and all Israelis working to fulfill the vision of Israel's Declaration of Independence to create a Jewish State based on the prophetic vision of justice, freedom and equality.

Over this week we visited Sderot and planted trees on Kibbutz Mefalsim, a kibbutz that has been shelled by Kassam rockets, we visited a Bedouin school and an immigrant absorption center for immigrants from Ethiopia, we joined with young Israelis in a pre-army program sponsored by Rabbis for Human Rights, who help the immigrants and the students in the Bedouin school. Many of us met with family,friends and colleagues, shared our pride in the amazing accomplishments of Israel and delighted in the joys of living in a society where Jewish culture is normative. We celebrated a glorious Shabbat in Jerusalem. We were hosted by families for Shabbat dinner, we joined in inspiring Shabbat services at several different communities and we walked by foot around the Old City.

But the distance that we travelled to get from America to Jerusalem was dwarfed by the "distance" we travelled once we were here. In addition to all the wonderful experiences described above that we share with many other Jews who visit Israel, we also travelled to places that most Israelis and Jews avoid. Although the distance to these places is very small in terms of miles, it feels like a visit to another planet.

On Tuesday we planted trees in Karyut, a Palestinian village on the West Bank, surrounded by Jewish settlements built on their land. We joined with our colleagues from Rabbis for Human Rights and several inspiring Israeli volunteers to plant trees on even more Palestinian land that the settlers want to steal from the Palestinians.

The reality in Karyut, a village squeezed by settlements that have been built on all sides, is one that most Israelis and Jews never see. Every year the settlements take over more and more of their land, hundreds of their trees have been uprooted. We saw a vineyard close to the parcel of land where we were planting. Human Rights lawyers challenged the land grab in Israeli courts and the court ruled in their favor affirming that the land belonged to the Palestinians. The vineyard is still there, the ruling has not been enforced and most likely the land will never be returned to the Palestinians.

When we arrived, a jeep with two Israeli soldiers speeds by and stops by a mound of earth ahead of us on the gravel road. The army has placed the mound there to block the road to their village. The villagers have brought a bulldozer to open the road and the soldiers prevent them from doing so. The consequence is that a water truck that the Palestinians hoped to use to water their new trees is stuck behind the mound and the residents of the village have to travel some 30-45 minutes around the hills to reach their village which is just five minutes away.

A settler arrives, a sweet tall man, with a long beard and a gun slung over his shoulder. He claims that the land on which we are planting is owned by a Jew, a man named Moshe who lives in Shilo, the settlement on the hill. He engages in passionate discussion with us, pointing out that Rashi, the Medieval commentator argues that the Torah begins with Creation Story (and not with the Paschal sacrifice, the first mitzvah in the Torah) so that the nations of the world would not be able to claim that the Jewish people stole the land of Canaan. God created the entire world and gave the land of Canaan to the Jewish People. Therefore this piece of land and the entire land of Israel belongs to the Jewish People. The Palestinians therefore have no right to this land nor to any of the land in Israel or on the West Bank.

I ask him to set aside the theological argument and to focus on his claim that Moshe who lives in Shiloh has a deed to this land. If this man has the right to this land, what about all those thousands of Arabs who have deeds to homes within the Green Line. If Moshe has a right to this land, surely the Palestinians also have the right to all the land and homes of Jews that belonged to them? He reluctantly agrees but says that their right is subject to their willingness to to obey the law and then adds but Arabs "don't believe in You shall not kill or You shall not steal."

This argument that a Jew has title to the land has been used to justify the settlement of violent and aggressive settlers in the center of Hebron, in Gush Etzion, and many other places. A week and a week before we arrived in Israel it was used to justify the eviction of the

During our eight days in Jerusalem, we are staying in a hotel in Baka. The hotel we are living in and many of the houses are owned by Palestinians who fled in 1948. Will the Jewish man who claims the piece of land on which we were planting trees and then all the Arab property in Baka and throughout Israel be retuned to any Palestinian who has a deed?

What is so disturbing about our visits to areas beyond the Green Line is that Jews have many privileges and rights that are denied to Palestinians. Palestinian land can be stolen by Jews, Palestinian roads can be blocked while beautiful new roads are built for settlers, Jewish settlements use most of the water and the list goes on. These priveleges are justified by religious settlers claiming to act in the name of Judaism. This form of Judaism is essentially racist, privileging Jews over Arabs. As an Israeli who we met a few days later pointed out we met a few days later, in addition to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict there is a crucial internal conflict among Jews about the nature of Judaism. The settlers uphold a Judaism that privileges Jewish life and Jewish blood over the lives and blood of other people. We uphold a Judaism that follows the teaching of Rabbi Azai that the core of Judaism is that all people are created in the image of God and all people are entitled to dignity, equality and freedom.

Rabbis for Human Rights upholds this vision of Judaism a it is such blessing for us to support them in their sacred task. Unfortunately they are outnumbered by the settlers who are supported by the Israeli government.

A few days ago Ehud Olmert mentioned that Israel needed to put an end to the uprooting of Palestinian trees and the harassment by settlers of Palestinians during the harvest. While it is important that the outgoing Prime Minister has made such a statement it is Rabbis for Human Rights, a courageous group of rabbis with limited resources that is the only group that has for years has arranged volunteers to help Palestinians to harvest their olives, to replant trees that have been uprooted and to prevent more land from being expropriated and stolen.

It is to support this sacred work, that 40 of us have come to Israel. We care about the violations of the human rights of Palestinians and we care deeply out the struggle about what Judaism is and will become. Too few Jews have acknowledged that it is our 4,000 year old heritage that is at stake. Will it become a tradition that is used to enforce unjust and racist system or will it be a tradition that will bring blessing to the world.

"Go forth from your land, your birthplace and your to a land that I will show you and all the nations shall be blessed through you." For the Palestinians of Karyut and many other villages on the West Bank the settlements that surround them filled with religious settlers is not a blessing. For them it is a curse and for us as Jews it is a disaster. It is a moral disaster that threatens the core message of faith and on a practical level that threatens our security.

Here on the other side, in Jewish Jerusalem the reality on the West Bank is barely acknowledged. As I sat in shul this morning in a beautiful service listening to the exquisite chanting of the following words from the Torah, "for I have known Avraham that he may instruct his household and his children that they will follow the way of God and observing justice and righteousness. I wondered what this meant to us Jews? What does it mean to the villagers of Karyut who live just a few miles away yet it feels like they live on another planet.

Their reality and discourse about the abuse they suffer daily at the hands of settlers is probably the most important religious issue we face as Jews. Our silence is deafening.

Through the Eyes of Children III - Hevron

Carol Towarnicky — Mon, 17 Nov 2008 13:27:45 -0800

by Carol Towarnicky

In Hevron last Thursday, we stood on a street where Palestinians are not allowed to walk. Their homes have been locked from the outside, the storefronts on street level shuttered. In Hevron, about 800 Jewish settlers who believe they are doing God¹s work hold 15,000 Palestinians hostage. In order to leave their second-floor homes, the Palestinians used to have to crawl up to the roof, come down a ladder and make a roundabout exit.

So if someone in their family were sick, they had to carry him up to the roof and down a ladder. To bury their dead, the same. Now some have built tunnels, which apparently has made exiting a little easier, but there is no place for children to play. As we walked down the street, we were surrounded with more than two dozen soldiers and police to protect us from the settlers. One man yelled at us that we were terrorists, that we were dancing in the blood of Jews.

The Palestinians had built cages around the second floor windows in order to allow them some fresh air but to keep the settlers from invading. On one caged balcony was a hutch of pigeons. In others, little children looked out toward us. Unlike the other children we had seen and interacted with, these little ones didn¹t wave or smile. ³They¹re like caged birds,² someone said. Spray-painted on the awnings below them were Stars of David.

The Al Kurd Family

Margery G — Mon, 17 Nov 2008 13:08:34 -0800

by Margery G

On July 16, 2008, the Israeli Supreme Court issued an order to evict the Al Kurd family from their home in the Sheikh Jarrah neighborhood of East Jerusalem. This neighborhood is the site of the grave of Shimon Ha Tzaddik, Simon the Righteous.

The Al Kurd's house is part of a housing project the Jordanian government built with the United Nations Refugee and Welfare Association (UNRWA) to house 28 Palestinian refugee families who fled their homes in 1948. Before 1948, Fawzieh Al Kurd, the mother of the family, had a home in West Jerusalem. Her husband, Mohammed, had a home in Jaffa. The Al Kurd family moved into their home in Sheikh Jarra in 1956. It was agreed that ownership of the house would be transferred to the family within 3 years in exchange for their refugee status. In 1959, the home was registered in their name.

Shortly after the six day war in 1967, two groups of Jewish settlers known as the Oriental Jews Association and the Knesset Yisrael Association were successful in falsely claiming ownership of the land where these 28 houses stood. In 1972 these groups managed to register the land in their names with the Israeli land registrar.

In 1982, the two settler groups filed suits against the 28 Palestinian families, claiming their property rights. The families appointed a lawyer by the name of Tosya Cohen to defend their case. Cohen reached an agreement with the settlers in which he recognized the settlers¹ ownership of the land in return for granting the families the status of protected residents. As such, the families would have to pay rent to the owners.

The families refused to accept this agreement, fired Tosya Cohen and refused to pay the rent. They did however propose to put the rent in an escrow fund until the case was settled That proposal was rejected. Because they refused to pay the rent to the settlers' organizations, eviction orders were issued to a number of the families including the Al Kurd family.

The families hired another lawyer and upon further investigations it became clear that the settlers' associations did not own the land. The families' present lawyer, Mr. Houssni Abu Hussein petitioned the land registration department to revoke the settlers' registration of the land in 1972 and to issue an order to restate the rightful owner of the land.

In 2006, the land registration department agreed to the first demand and revoked the ownership of the settlers' association. They refused, however, to issue an order to conduct a rezoning of the area which was necessary in order to declare the rightful ownership.

The families appealed to the Israeli Supreme Court to conduct the rezoning of the area and to annul all documents related to settlers¹ rights.

Meanwhile the two settlers associations had sold their claim to the property to an investment company by the name of Nahlat Shemoun. In Feb 2008, the company submitted a project to the Israeli municipality of Jerusalem in which the company proposed to demolish the 28 homes and build 200 settlement houses and a commercial center This project would link Hebrew University to West Jerusalem.

In 2001, a group of settlers broke into half of the Al Kurd family house the half they had built for their son. Although the Israeli Supreme court issued an order to evict the settlers, they are still living there.

A week and a half ago, the Al Kurd Family was evicted from their home. We met with the mother, Fawzieh Al Kurd in a solidarity tent that had been set up on land just below her home. This is her story as translated by her friend, Amal Nashishibe.

"Last Sunday morning, at 3:30 in the morning, I heard strong knocking on the door. My husband (who is sick) had just woken up to use the bathroom and I didn¹t know what to do. I was trying to help him. The door was forced open. My husband fell to the floor. I was taken by 3 women soldiers. In the house there were at least 50 soldiers. I was in my nightgown and slippers. I was grabbed by the 3 soldiers. They took me to the upper street and they left me. My hands were handcuffed. The whole area was cordoned off.

All around the neighborhood there were soldiers. I was left on the street and no one could get to me. The soldiers were guarding me and they were making happy phone calls. My husband was carried out of the house by the soldiers and left in the neighbors' courtyard. The men were not allowed to come out of their houses to help only women were allowed to come out. I was screaming. I did not see, but my neighbors tell me that people who looked like settlers were taking the furniture out of the house. Everything was dumped out of the pantry. Our furniture was taken to the depot and now we have to pay rent for it there.

The settlers cleaned the house and they started to go in. This was our house since 1956 and this is how it is in Israel. They come take your house. Now I don¹t have an address. I don¹t have a home. There is no recourse no justice. I must take the case to an international court. There is no justice in Israel."

As of this posting, no one is living in the part of the house from which Fawzieh and Mohammed Al Kurd were evicted. The other 27 families in the neighborhood live in fear that they too will lose their homes.

Rugelach at Marzipain

Margery G — Mon, 17 Nov 2008 08:33:38 -0800

by Margery G

“The rugelach at Marzipain -it’s the best rugelach in the shuk ,”says our guide, Morgy. “Now Emma, she thinks that the best is in a little store down from your hotel, but I’m telling you this is the best.” So after eating the best felafel and drinking the best coffee, we head over to Marzipain to buy the best rugelach. It’s Friday afternoon – just before Shabbas - and we’re going to have Shabbas dinner with families here in Jerusalem. A box of rugelach would be a nice gift to bring.

We make our way down the side of the market, packed with last minute shabbas shoppers looking for Marzipain. It’s not hard to find. Rows of fresh baked challah line the bakers shelves at the entrance. Inside shoppers - mostly women – jockey for position. They are buying babka and jelly donuts and kichel, but right in the middle, stacked 6 and 7 deep, are the shoppers with real purpose. You can see it in their eyes – they are driven; they will stop at nothing - they have their sights set and only one thing will satisfy them - rugelach.

The trays on the center tables are empty. To the side, a baker slathers butter on the fresh ones, just out of the oven. He brings one tray, then a second, then a third into the center. It’s pandemonium. People push and they shove and they yell and they elbow their way in. A half kilo box here; a kilo there; another kilo for this one and that one. The boys packing the boxes are working like madmen – boxing, weighing, paying . So many people vying for so little. Such a scene for a little piece of rugelach.

What if, I imagined as I stood there swept up in the tumult – what if everyone stopped being afraid there wouldn’t be enough. As absurd as it may sound, what if everyone made a line, and waited their turn. The rugelach would be sold, just like they are now, until there were no more left. Some people would have; others would not. And then what if one person said, “I have 2 kilos here, but really, I only need 1. “ And then what if another person said, ”and I have 1 kilo but really, I only need 1/2.” And what if pretty soon, everyone had something – maybe not everything they wanted, but something. They say this is the land of miracles…maybe next Shabbas at Marzipain.

Through the Eyes of Children II -- the Negev

Carol Towarnicky — Sun, 16 Nov 2008 21:15:02 -0800

by Carol Towarnicky

The Bedouin girls help us plant olive trees in this school for Bedouin children in the Negev. De Anne is able to speak some Arabic, so we exchange our names and our ages. Most of them are 14. They ask us if we have brought pictures from America, but we didn¹t think to. They wonder if we flew in a plane to get there and smile and giggle when we say we did.

We have been told by the principal of the school that the families of the 500-plus children in the school, which goes from grades one to eight, likely have 10 to 15 children, since most of the men have at least two, sometimes three, wives.

We have come to this village with students from Mechina, young people who take a year off after they finish high school and before they go into the army. They volunteer with the children in the school, teaching them Hebrew so they can be more of a part of Israeli society—except that, in this area, there are almost no jobs for young people. We also learn that this likely is the last year of school for these girls. Their parents want them to stay close to home.

Through the Eyes of Children I -- Qaryout

Carol Towarnicky — Sun, 16 Nov 2008 09:15:02 -0800

by Carol Towarnicky

As we get out of the bus in Qaryout on Tuesday, a class of little girls in blue and white striped uniforms is walking toward us. Lance Laver takes their picture and then tries to show the girls the image at the back of the camera, but they start to run away. They soon are coaxed back, but we don¹t know what made them afraid.

As we leave the village hall after lunch, we are besieged with kids, who are thrilled to have their pictures taken, then wave to us from outside the bus, then run alongside it as it winds through the roads of the town. What are they thinking? Do they know we are from America? Are we simply a novelty in a place that doesn¹t appear to get many visitors from abroad?

The children seem lively and happy, and their exuberance is a sharp contrast to the frustration and despair their elders face as they try to protect the olive trees in the fields below and fight to get their land returned to them. For a few moments, it¹s possible to forget that future is precarious.

Bethlehem

Margery G — Sat, 15 Nov 2008 22:15:03 -0800

by Margery G

From Hebron we traveled the short distance to Bethlehem where we were met by George Rishmawi, Director of Siraj, an NGO created to forge links between the Palestinan people and people from around the globe through travel programs, interfaith dialogue, and cultural and youth exchange programs . His cousin, also George Rishmawi directs the Palestinian Center for Rapprochement (PCR). Founded in 1988, PCR focuses on non-violent means to end the Israeli military occupation and advocate for peace and justice for the Palestinian people. Those means include civil-based direct actions, media and capacity building projects.

As George began to speak to us, immediately there were distinct language shifts. The settlements were now the Israeli illegal settlements; the west bank was now the occupied territories, the separation barrier now the apartheid wall, the Israelis plan for the Palestinians the final solution.

For George, the wall is not about security it is about destroying the Palestinian people, separating them from their land and from their future. It does not take a trained eye to see that the path of the wall blocks any possible expansion of Bethlehem. Directly across from Bethlehem, on what was once a beautiful pine covered hill top, there is now the massive, monolithic settlement of Har Choma. You cannot look out from Bethlehem without seeing it. And the configuration of the wall allows it ample room to expand - onto more Palestinian land.

Ask George why, if the wall is not about security, suicide bombings have dramatically decreased since it was built and he will tell you that the wall is not the reason. With a sophisticated underground in place, anyone can get into Israel he continues. The suicide bombings have decreased because they weren't getting Hamas what it wanted. Israel needs Hamas to justify its objectives he argues. The wall, he repeats, is not about security, it is about grabbing land.

We visit Rachel's tomb, also in Bethlehem. It is now encircled by a concrete box, allowing only Israeli to enter. Since Israelis are no longer allowed into Bethlehem, a special road and entrance have been built allowing Israelis access to the tomb without actually entering the city. Contact with Palestinians is structurally impossible. Rachel the shechinah, the feminine soul of the Jewish people now surrounded by concrete it¹s as though a wall has been built around our Jewish heart.

We visit the Deheishe refugee camp in Bethlehem. Built by the UN after 1948, it is still under UN control. Tents have long since been replaced by permanent homes. Here 15,000 people live in 1 sq. meter. Yousef, our guide through the camp, is a house painter and an activist. He was born in Zakaria, a village taken over by the Israelis and now called Beit Shemesh. After several moves throughout the territories, his father finally moved the family to the camp because his grandfather was there. And his family has done well. His oldest brother is a cardiologist in the United Arab Emirates, his sister is a dentist; his other brother is an electronics engineer in Germany. As is typical in Palestinan families—the literacy rate of Palestinians is among the highest in the world—his father put a supreme value on education. When asked what his dream is for his own child, Yousef answered, "No occupation. To have freedom of movement, to have no walls as boundaries It is our right."

At our dinner in Bethlehem that night, two well-known Palestinian leaders and activists spoke about the situation in the occupied territories. The first speaker, Sam Bahour, is a Palestinian American who moved back to the occupied territories 15 years ago. He came back to build a telecommunications company but has been been subverted in his efforts by the Israelis' refusal to grant use of the airwaves, which they control. Sam spoke with passion; his anger at the injustices of Palestinian life in the occupied territories was palpable. "International law must be applied to both sides," he demanded. Without international law, we are left with the law of the jungle." He asserted that all Palestinians, most of whom live outside the occupied territories must be engaged in the decisions that are made. And he spoke, seemingly without equivocation, about the Palestinians right to return

As Sam spoke, I felt my own walls go up. Up until this encounter we had been listening to leaders who thought like we did, who spoke like we did. And then came Sam. He was vehement. He was demanding. He was articulate and absolutely precise in his logic. The dialogue was on.

What about the right of return? Was that really a non-negotiable issue? Did he really expect that Israel would do more than pull back to its 67 borders? Wasn¹t that enough? My defenses started to rise. And I started to think this is never going to work - and Sam isn¹t even a hard-liner; he believes in the rule of international law. And then I started to wonder what does working toward peace in the middle east sound like? Maybe it sounds like this like Sam. Maybe it sounds completely different from anything I¹ve ever heard before. Maybe I need to find a new way to listen - a way to listen for the openings, for the thinnest cracks that hint at a place we can meet.

A Shakey Shabbat Morning

Rabbi Tirzah — Sat, 15 Nov 2008 09:15:04 -0800

by Rabbi Tirzah

I finally slept deeply last night, but this morning my body is shaking. It must be the crazy paradox of this place.

On Erev Shabbat here in Jerusalem, the streets become suddenly quiet, and soon, people begin to stream down from all directions like rivulets of water after a drought. The feeling is joyous anticipation. There is humming and chatting, people have showered and donned fresh clothes, everyone is on their way to be part of a great wave of holiness. By evening, song is flowing out of the many synagogues and shteibls around the city, and people sing with great might, pray with great devotion. This is not done as an empty social ritual. There is a feeling that everyone here lives for Shabbat.

The Renewal service, Ruth Kagan's new community Nava Tehillah, is extraordinary: Each song given its own kavannah, each tune takes us deeper and deeper. People pray with astonishing concentration, and finally, a bursting out into the cool November air. Ahhhh! Friends hug, old acquaintances laugh at meeting here in the street like this. It seems that everyone in the world is here!

Later, in the Kagan's home, after more singing, invoking the angels and blessing one another, kiddush over wine and tearing home made challah and feeding one another, bountiful food is served. The music and study continue until late. A young woman sings a rapturously beautiful devotional poem by James Joyce, accompanying herself on the sitar. I finally cannot contain any more beauty, and return to the hotel.

This morning, I am in a query. It was paradise. So why am I feeling this shaking in my body? Maybe it is the dissonance and distance between two realities: Two truths as intimate as a bone inside its own skin, yet here in this place, neither seems to know the other.

This week forty homes were demolished in Yrabin El-Sana, an Arab village. There was no terror, no crime, no precursory action that warranted this destruction. Just people living. But they were in the way.The demolition will enable building a military neighborhood for soldiers in the army. Who knows where these forty families go?

This week, settler violence was up, and as usual, without repurcussion. (One elderly gentleman was beaten with a rifle butt, farmers hassled and prevented from entering their lands,etc.) The 100 olive trees we planted on Tuesday could not be watered, the water tank had been impounded by the army. Our work replaced a field of seedlings that had been uprooted by the surrounding settlers. And in Hevron, the hostility between the extremist Jewish settlers, the young soldiers, and the Palestinian inhabitants is so great, that the army required 8 military jeeps and trucks to flank us. On the main street of Hebron, Palestinian children stared out at us behind caged windows, as if frozen in place. They cannot leave their front door and play in the street they live on lest they be shot at. Their pregnant mother cannot come down when she goes into labor. Their dead grandfather cannot be carried across the street to the Arab graveyard. They live under seige.

In neighboring Bethlehem, still beautiful despite the egregious 30 foot concrete wall covered in protest slogans and art, the non-violent resistance leaders rail helplessly against their goliath oppressor, decrying the "apartheid wall" and the "illegal settlements" to which their ancestral lands are slipping away. For the time being, they are impotent and they know it. Yet their words seer us: "We are undergoing a genocide, a Jewish- perpetrated 'final solution,' there is no longer any hope for a two state solution, Palestine will be one state." Nobody dares even mentions Gaza, although people there are in the worst shape of all.

Vegan chocolate cake and songs of devotion to God on the one side; an entire population (1.5 million in Gaza) under seige without fuel, electricity, adequate water or medical care on the other. Institutions for higher learning and social service organizations cropping up weekly on the one side; next week's home demolition notices already posted on the other side, without recourse. This and this. Two sides of one coin that refuse to hold to the same piece of metal. The highest of civilization—study, music, and friendship—on the one side, and on the other, a most sultry neglect of human rights and abuse of power.

This is what I am attempting to contain: BOTH of these truths, without disavowing either one. No wonder my body shakes. In any event, it's time to get dressed and join my mother for Shabbat lunch.

At risk

Carol Towarnicky — Sat, 15 Nov 2008 07:15:05 -0800

by Carol Towarnicky

At Kibbutz Mfalsim, Israeli children stood on the steps of their school and sang for us. Children’s music is a blessing no matter where you hear it; at the kibbutz, it was transformed even further into a prophetic message.

“Bashana, Ha Ba’ah,” the children sang. It is a song we used to sing often in our synagogue, and it’s one I love dearly. The English verse goes:

Soon the day will arrive
When we will be together
And no longer will we live in fear.

Our local guide, a woman who grew up on the kibbutz and lives in the nearby community, points to a new playground with colorful climbing apparatus and a soft surface to prevent injuries if children should fall. A Kassam rocket hit right near there, she said.

She points to the roof of the school, which has been fortified with concrete of a thickness that you would see in a parking garage, not a roof, a reminder of how precarious life is in this place, which was founded by Jews from Argentina.

I think of how, a short time before, as our bus approached the border town of Sderot, we were told what to do if sirens began to sound. We had approximately 20 seconds to get to a shelter. Look for them near bus stops, said our guide. If you don’t see one, go to an open area away from glass and lay face down with your arms over your head.

Twenty seconds. The rockets can fall anywhere.

As we ate sandwiches at outdoor tables, one of our group said: Now, if a siren were to go off, where would we go? We looked around and saw no obvious shelter nearby.

I can’t imagine what it would be like to, even once, hear the siren and lie down face down waiting for the explosion, let alone have sirens and rockets be a fact of daily life?

A cease-fire that had been in place for five months until, about a week before, when Israeli soldiers, who had gotten a tip about people in Gaza digging tunnels out in order to kidnap soldiers, had entered the area. Soon after began the rocket barrage, which has continued and escalated, with rockets going deep into Israel.

The danger in Sderot has crippled the area economically. Few people want to visit when there is a chance of rocket attack, and we were encouraged to buy things from the shops in solidarity with the Israelis who live here.

In Sderot, at Kibbutz Mfalsim, children – who are not responsible for any of the actions that created this conflict -- are at risk. Their parents are trying to protect them, but that may not be possible.

This is the chorus to the song:

Wait and see, wait and see

What a world there will be

If we care, if we share

You and me

At the kibbutz, we planted trees – desert locust saplings – at the kibbutz in solidarity and support, and wonder when the day will arrive when they will no longer live in fear.

Hebron

Margery G — Sat, 15 Nov 2008 02:15:02 -0800

by Margery G

We enter Hebron with Mikkhael Manekin of Breaking the Silence as our guide. In a country where no one speaks of what they have done to "the other," Breaking the silence , the organization of soldiers finally telling their stories of what they have done and seen in military service is remarkable, and Mikkael a young man of extraordinary courage.

As our bus passes into Hebron, one of the major Palestinian cities in the West Bank, our escort of police and army vehicle begin to multiply. First 1 in the front, then 2, then 3, then 1 in the back, then 2 until we had 8 vehicles in this bizarre procession.. As we stepped off the bus, we were surrounded by armed guards - the police, the army and riot police lights were flashing, roads were blocked. Shalom Hebron.

A very quick history of Hebron: As the site of the Tomb of the Patriarchs Abraham/Ibrahim- Hebron holds particular significance to Muslims and to Jews. Though Muslims would not allow Jews inside the Tomb, for centuries, the two groups live side by side in this ancient city. In 1929, there was a terrible massacre 67 Jews are brutally murdered by Palestinians and the Jewish community leaves. In 1948, when Israel becomes a state, Hebron was part of the territory annexed to Jordan. There were no Jews living there. In 1968, a year after Israel took over the occupied territories, Jewish settlers establish the first illegal settlement in Hebron. In the 1990¹s, after the Oslo Peace Accord, various levels of autonomy were granted to the Palestinians in the occupied territories and Hebron is divided into 2 zones H1 and H2. H1 is under the control of the Palestinian Authority and H2 is controlled by the Israeli military. Palestinians live in both zones 120,000 in H1 and 30,000 in H2; the 600 settlers then in Hebron live only in H2. In 1994, Baruch Goldstien walks into the mosque of the tomb of Patriarchs, once the vibrant heart of Hebron, opens fire and massacres 24 Palestinans, wounding another 120.

Today H2 is home to 800 settlers 800 settlers protected by 500 soldiers. For the 20,000 Palestinians remaining in H2 on this land, in these ancestral homes, life is unimaginable.

Fearful of repercussions from the Goldstien massacre and realizing it was impossible to protect the settlers in this urban environment, Israel created a policy of separation of sterile buffer zones. What does that mean?

It means that the Palestinians living in H2 are prisoners in their own homes. They cannot drive on 60% of their roads; they cannot bring their cars to their houses. They cannot walk their own streets; until very recently, many could not leave their own front doors which were locked and barred from the outside. As we walk the streets they cannot, a settler walks too, separated from us by the military, screaming at our presence. We see second floor balconies of Palestinian homesliterally caged in to prevent violence from the settlers. Palestinian doors are marked with Jewish stars, a terrible and ironic sign those once oppressed, now the oppressor. We do not see any smiling children.

In order to leave their homes they must exit from the back; to legally reach H1 they must walk all around the city; some have dug tunnels. Everything must be carried in and out by hand. If someone gets sick, it is virtually impossible to get an ambulance. The settlers¹ ambulance will not carry a Palestinian and it takes 24 hours to get Red Cross ambulance in. Pregnant Palestinian women leave the area a month before their due dates The dead must be carried out on the backs of their sons and daughters to reach places for burial. When, recently front doors were unbarred and Palestinans were allowed out onto their street, they were only permitted to turn to the left, away from the homes of the settlers.

1800 Palestinian shops were closed; the streets of H2 once vibrant with life and commerce are a ghost town. The few shops left near the Tomb are only open to tourists Palestinians cannot shop there.

³Kafkaesque² Mikkael said in describing what we were experiencing. As we walked thorugh, however, eager to purchase, making whatever statement we ould of solidarity, the military blocked us. For whatever reason they had decided, on the spot that we were not a tour, we were a demonstration and we were not allowed to stop; we were not allowed to support the shopkeepers. After protest from our leaders from Breaking the Silence, calls to lawyers about this illegal action of the military, we were told we must leave and escorted to our bus.

Looking Into Gaza

Margery G — Wed, 12 Nov 2008 15:52:10 -0800

by Margery G

“What was that?” I asked. The sun was setting. It was a blazing red here on the Gaza border when I heard a pop-pop-popping sound. “Don’t worry it’s just a nail gun,” someone said. A nail gun? Who would be using a nail gun at this late hour—and besides, there was no new construction in sight.

That was not a nail gun—it was the sound of rifles—firing from close by. It was the tail end of an incident earlier in the day when four Palestinians had tried to break through the Gaza border and were shot and killed.

Our group was ending our day inside the green line with a visit to a kibbutz near Sderot when we heard the shots. Situated right on the border with Gaza, this kibbutz has felt the results of a recent break in the ceasefire with Hamas. Kessem rockets have been coming in from Gaza daily. Just last week, one hit a school bus stop right around the corner from the home we were visiting. The children all got to a safe shelter and there were no injuries.

The buildings at the kibbutz are now all covered with protective concrete roofs—with special attention given to the school and other buildings where the children play. A beautiful new playground sits on the spot where a rocket fell just months ago.

Every Israeli in the area knows that if you hear the warning siren, you have only 20 seconds to get to shelter. If you can’t find a shelter you are to get as far away from buildings as you can (to avoid flying glass) and lie face down with your arms over your head.

This is life for Israelis on the border. On both sides children are growing up with a fear bred from enforced separation, each from “the other”. An immense concrete wall, barbed wire, segregated schools, a government policy intended to cut off one culture from the other - all these actions breed fear . And on the footsteps of fear comes violence.

We’d spent most of the day with Navah Hefetz , Director of Education for Rabbis for Human Rights. “Did you know,” Nava told us, “that Jews and Palestinians cannot even have joint programs any more because of the wall and the checkpoints. When we need to meet to plan our work together – we must go to Turkey or Cypress. We cannot meet just 15 minutes from our own homes. The old Peace Now movement did not work,” Nava continued. “We didn’t stop the settlements; we didn’t create a powerful lobby for peace—now it’s up to the young people.”

Nava has created a new course for young people attending the mechinot – the programs set up for youth who choose to take a year between high school and their time in the army. Not all young people choose to attend a mechina – not all can afford it - but for those who do, the experience can be transformative. The mechinot—half of which are religious and half of which are not—are designed for leadership training. Here young people study Judaism, Zionism, and philosophy. They learn about opportunities for leadership in the army. And with the new course developed by Nava and RHR, they now study human rights in Israeli society as well.

Led by Rabbis, this course takes students through traditional Jewish text, examining Judaism’s stance on human rights issues. Students then examine the Declaration of Israeli Independence, word for word, analyzing , thinking critically, challenging – just as they would with Talmud. And in this process, they create their own Talmud – a Talmud of human rights.

Today, we visited a mechina in the Negev—one with a particularly strong human rights focus. As part of their coursework, these students all engage in service learning. Their internships ranged from teaching Bedouin women Hebrew, to volunteering with Bedouin school children, to working in an Ethiopian refugee center. We did site visits with the students and talked with them about their motivation, their concerns for human rights and their opinions as to how the conflict between Jew and Palestinian can be resolved.

One story in particular caught me. The young man speaking was actually a trainer—he was working at the mechina and had been out of the army for about four years. He told me that he came from Tekoa—a well-known settlement on the West Bank. When he joined the army, he was dropped into the middle of Hebron with no training as to how to deal with the Palestinian people. “I was told nothing,” he said. “I had no idea what to do—how to treat them.” “We have to talk,” he continued. “We have to learn how to talk.”

Through programs like this, maybe there is a chance that one day the walls will come tumbling down.

Hope and Fragility

Carol Towarnicky — Wed, 12 Nov 2008 15:26:03 -0800

by Carol Towarnicky

Is there anything more hopeful than a tree sapling, anything more fragile?

There are 100 of the small olive saplings in the truck on Tuesday and we carry them, one in each hand, over an expanse of rock and clay to the field. At first we line them up about 12 feet apart, but then are instructed to spread them out over the entire space, about two and a half acres.

We are making a statement as much as we are contributing to the agriculture of the area. The trees will underscore the Palestinian claim to the land – that is, if they survive.

We’re planting only 100 trees, says Arik Ascherman, because it is entirely possible that the settlers from one of the three settlements that occupy the high places will destroy them. Within an hour, the trees could be uprooted, destroyed. So we don’t want to risk the 600 trees that it might take to create an olive grove in this spot.

Lance has spoken to the owner of the field. He says it used to be planted with wheat, but we are planting trees in order to amplify the statement that this is indeed Palestinian land.

The land is rocky and full of clay. Making even small dents with a hoe won’t get deeper than a few inches. I wonder how ancient people managed it. One of the Palestinian men comes over with the one pick we have brought and makes quick work of it.

Each of us has a chance to plant. I undo the plastic covering over the root ball and place it in the hole. I spread the soil around. It is as much rock and clay as it is anything that resembles the garden soil I am used to. They say it may rain tomorrow, or perhaps the next day.

The Arguments

Carol Towarnicky — Wed, 12 Nov 2008 15:03:57 -0800

by Carol Towarnicky

As we finish planting the trees in the Palestinian field on Tuesday, we notice that a jeep has driven up. It is a settler, a man with a long beard and a knitted kippah and this is what I see immediately an automatic weapon at his side. He is deep in an intense conversation with some of the delegation, with Arik Ascherman translating. Arik says the man is the security chief for the nearby settlement and has been very gracious to engage with us and answer our questions.

The settler says the Palestinians, who have worked the land for decades, do not own it. Instead, a man named Moshe who lives in Tel Aviv is the rightful owner. As the settler talks, an Israeli soldier, who looks to be in his early 20s, stands by, the expression on his face unreadable.

Brian Walt poses a question. What is the argument that the settler is making about the land? Is it a Biblical argument, that God gave the land to the Jews, or is it that an individual Jew Moshe in Tel Aviv—has legal title to the land? And if it is the latter, would he agree that a Palestinian who has legal title to land in, say, East Jerusalem, has a valid claim as well?

The settler says he is arguing both things, both a divine inheritance and legal contract. When Brian presses him on the Palestinian legal claim, the settler says he would accept Palestinian claims to the land except that Palestinians don¹t live by the laws of Israel, that they steal and kill. Tirzah Firestone challenges him: You know that not all Palestinians are thieves and murderers, she says.

The settler turns away. You don't understand, he says.

Day Two: A Stark Reminder

Rabbi Tirzah Firestone — Wed, 12 Nov 2008 14:45:20 -0800

by Rabbi Tirzah Firestone

A huge wave of relief this morning to drive south through pine forests and lusciously green fields and vineyards, and away from the trouble and pain of the West Bank. For a while the miracle of this place began to ring like an old familiar bell in my heart‹the brilliance of its desert agriculture; the absorption of so many populations from around the globe; the rebirth and genius of the Hebrew language.

Even visiting the Bedhouin shanty towns of the Negev—roadless sand tracks, motley camels in a fenced-in pen, intermittent shacks, treeless and dull—did not extinguish the old upwelling of pride that I knew from years as a Hebrew day-school kid. Nor did the blank faces in Sderot ruffle me. It was only at sunset, standing in the green suburban looking yard at Kibbutz Miflasim, eating cake and persimmons and looking west toward the ashen horizon that is Gaza that my reverie was broken.

It was a repeated ratatat-tat in the distance. The sound could have been that of a nail-gun, or some other benevolent construction tool, but it wasn't. I was brought back with a start to the facts.

Beyond this shady kibbutz, which has sustained several kassam rockets and is securing concrete roofs on its classrooms and houses, 750,000 people are living out there in the distance, in a human cage, under Israel's punishing siege, in which fuel, food and medical supplies are denied. (On the bus ride back to Jerusalem, we heard that an Israeli incursion into Gaza had killed four Hamas militants.) There is no escaping the intertwining of tragedy and beauty in this place.

Day 1 - The Olive Tree

Margery G — Tue, 11 Nov 2008 15:32:24 -0800

by Margery G

The olive tree. Uproot it, burn it, cut it down – it will come back and find a way to grow. As we rode on the bus from Jerusalem to the West Bank today – our first day on this trip with Rabbis for Human Rights (RHR), Arik Ascherman, founder and Executive Director of RHR , spoke about the olive trees we were about to plant – trees that seemed a metaphor for the Palestinian people – uprooted, driven from their homes, restricted in their movement, but determined to come back and find a way to grow.

We worked side by side with Palestinian farmers this morning, planting 100 olive trees, helping the Palestinians lay claim to the land which is by right theirs, and hoping that Israeli settlers would not uproot the trees as soon as we left.

We had no sooner carried the trees into the fields when an Israeli army truck drove up. Arik spoke with them, as he has hundreds of times before; they left and we continued our work. With shovels and pick axes we dug into the rocky, parched land and we planted.

At some point as we worked, the name “Obama” came up. “Obama, Obama” began a chorus of Palestinian voices “Obama, Obama, Obama” the chant went on. It was not the first and would not be the last time we would feel the impact our election has had on people around the world. After eight dark years, it actually felt good to be an American.

As we were finishing up, a settler with a rifle came driving onto the field, followed by the same army truck that had come when we arrived. The settler claimed that this land was first of all given to the Jews by God and secondly owned by a Jew in Tel Aviv named Moshe and that the Palestinians had no right to plant there.

It was a story Arik had heard over and over, like a settler’s mantra. It is very unlikely he said, that Moshe in Tel Aviv has documents proving his right to this land, For hundreds of years this land, including the land on which the settlements have been built, has belonged to and been farmed by the Palestinians. But now, under Israeli rule, it is up for grabs – first one to plant and hold onto their plantings wins – and the battle is ferocious.

As we left to go on to the Palestinian village of Kryot, we saw a big water truck stopped behind a pile of dirt and rock. The truck was from the village, carrying water for the new trees. The pile of rocks and dirt was from the army. Declaring the need for security, they had blocked the main road to Kryut, making it impossible for the truck to get through. A ten minute trip to the village would now take 45 minutes by another route.

The complexities of this land are so difficult to untangle– the West Bank, the Occupied Territories, the Disputed Territories, Judea and Sumaria - it’s very name dependent on your politics. In an Israeli bus, you drive through checkpoints without a hitch – checkpoints that can take the Palestinans an hour or more to clear. At each turn, settlements and outposts (mini-settlements just taking root) surround Palestinian villages. Except for small patches under Palestinan Authority, Israeli military rule is the law of this land. Palestinians have no freedom of movement, they must always carry ID cards, they are stopped at every checkpoint, and the burden of proof of land ownership is always on them.

We met with many Palestinians who had fought to prove ownership of their family lands and the right to farm them. And we met with the only full time lawyer working with RHR – a brilliant young, Israeli Christian woman who taught us the patterns in these land grabs.

First the settlers scare the Palestinans away; then they start working the Palestinans’ land; after working the land for 2-3 years, they say that they’ve been there 10 years and claim that the land is theirs. The Israeli police and the army turn a blind eye.

Only recently, with an RHR lawyer on board have the Palestinians begun to prove their ownership and reclaim at least portions of their land. The process is not easy. If the takeover is less than three years old, the case can be presented to a “legal advisor” – a position of the army. To prove ownership, they must bring documentation – deeds, title, sometimes aerial photos showing them working the land. If the legal advisor approves, there is an order to return the land to the Palestinian and the army is obligated to uphold that order. Though of course, the army doesn’t always do that.

The land may be returned in poor condition – the trees may have been neglected, old trees may have been uprooted and replaced with young ones that won’t bear fruit for many years. Settlers may try and block access. The army may have cut off routes to get to the land. The stories go on and on. If the case is older than three years, then it must go through the courts which is much more complicated and time consuming.

RHR now has 1.5 full time lawyers on board fighting for the Palestinians rights to their land. They need 10. And those of us so inclined need to help them get there.

Working with RHR is about much more than planting olive trees. It is about defending basic human rights. “Today,” Arik said as he turned to leave us, “You have planted trees of hope,” “You have planted trees of justice.”

Blocked

Carol Towarnicky — Tue, 11 Nov 2008 13:55:46 -0800

by Carol Towarnicky

It used to take five minutes or so to get from the village of Qaryout to the fields. Qaryout is surrounded on three sides by settlements, the closest of which is Shiloh, in which the Biblical story of Samuel and Chana takes place. For decades, farmers had planted wheat here, while in the fields nearby, others had planted olive groves.

Now the trip from village to field can take up to two hours because of a big earthen and rock barrier that has been erected in the middle of the road. It was put there by the Israeli Army, we were told, because of violent terror attacks coming from the village to the settlements, but the head of the village council tells us later there have been no such attacks.

When we arrive to plant olive trees this morning, Israeli Army trucks drive by us, apparently to prevent the Palestinian farmers from using a bulldozer to remove the barrier. And so it remains, yet another intentional obstacle to a sustainable life for the people there.

The Battle for the Land

Carol Towarnicky — Tue, 11 Nov 2008 13:00:11 -0800

by Carol Towarnicky

Arik Ascherman indicated the trees on the windy hillside before us. "This is the battle for the land," he said. The "combatants" in this struggle are the olive trees before us. A few rows belong to Palestinian farmers, the ones right next to them, in protective barrels, were planted to by settlers. On the other side of the road, it was the same -- a stand of olive trees in barrels and another stand without: Palestinian and settler, settler and Palestinian.

The tactic is heartbreakingly clear: settlers uproot or burn olive trees—or otherwise block the farmers from giving the trees the care they need—in order to establish some "claim" to the land. That's why it's critical for the farmers to have legal help to prove their ownership . . . If they go to the authorities within three years with their ownership documents, it's a good chance they can have that ownership recognized by the military authority in charge of the Occupied Territories. Any longer and the claim will be harder to prove.

Apparently, if the settlers "work the land" for a few years, they can claim to own it, but the claim of Palestinian farmers whose families have been there for decades, even centuries, working the land have no such claim.

Trees are long term, trees take time to grow and mature. These trees look as if they have been there awhile. They reflect none of the urgency that we feel all around us.

Green and Red Lines

Carol Towarnicky — Tue, 11 Nov 2008 12:23:11 -0800

by Carol Towarnicky

Day 1—On the bus heading north out of Jerusalem toward the village of Qaryout on the West Bank this morning, Morgi, our guide, hands each of us a big map that marks the Green Line as well as a red line that marks the path of the separation barrier. The lines do not match.

In many sections, the separation barrier goes well into Palestinian territory. It looks as gerrymandered as a Southern Congressional district drawn to put all the minority votes in one area. Unlike Congressional districts, though, these lines can't be drawn when the political balance changes. These are lines of concrete.

As we drive along the road where on one side is the pre-1967 Jordanian area and the other was the "no man's land" that served as a buffer to Israel, we see the buildings and neighborhoods and the police district that have been built there over the years. Big fat facts on the ground.

We can tell the settlements by their red tile roofs, says Arik. The Palestinian villages have minarets. The houses with the red tile roofs dominate the high places, and so dominate the land.

Stare at the puzzle and get dizzy. Stare at the puzzle and feel despair.

Rabbis for Human Rights North America Leaders Visit Israel

Brian Walt — Thu, 06 Nov 2008 20:30:51 -0800

A group of forty people, including several rabbis, begin a ten-day human rights mission to Israel and the West Bank on November 10 sponsored by Rabbis for Human Rights North America. The mission is part of RHR-NA's yearlong In Pursuit of Justice Campaign marking the 60th anniversary of the founding of Israel and the 20th anniversary of the founding of Rabbis for Human Rights. The trip and the campaign are dedicated to supporting the efforts of Rabbis for Human Rights and others in Israel who are working to fulfill the vision of Israel's Declaration of Independence of a state that embodies the prophetic values of "justice, freedom and peace."

The travelers will experience for themselves the reality of life on both sides of the Separation Barrier. They will be planting trees in a neighborhood in Sderot where an elementary school was hit by a Kassam rocket and will join with Rabbis for Human Rights to plant trees in Palestinian fields where olive trees have been illegally uprooted. The mission will include bearing witness at a border checkpoint with the women of Settlement Watch and touring Hebron with a member of Breaking the Silence, Israeli Soldiers who tells the story of their service in Hebron.

They will also visit a settlement on the West Bank. Rabbis for Human Rights-North America is an organization of rabbis from all the movements of Judaism dedicated to the supporting the work of Rabbis for Human Rights in Israel. The group in Israel is dedicated to education and advocacy to protect the human rights of all in Israel and on the West Bank. During the harvest season, Rabbis for Human Rights protects the rights of Palestinians to access their lands on the West Bank and plants trees in areas where they have been uprooted or on land that is in danger of expropriation. Rabbi Brian Walt, Executive Director of Rabbis for Human Rights-North America said: "This mission is one of the highlights of our yearlong campaign marking Israel's 60th anniversary to encourage American Jews and Americans of all faiths to support the efforts of all Israelis who are working to build an Israel that lives up to the core values of Judaism. We are going on this mission to express our deep commitment to Israsel and our solidarity with the courageous actions of our colleagues in Rabbis for Human Rights"

The mission is being led by Rabbi Walt, Rabbi Tirzah Firestone, Rabbi of Congregation Neveh Kodesh in Boulder, Colorado, and Merle Feld, Author and Director of the Rabbinic Writing Institute. The group will post a daily report of its activities at the RHR-NA Web site, www.rhr-na.org. When they return, participants will report on their experiences in their individual congregations and communities. All participants in the mission will continue to take action to support the efforts of Rabbis for Human Rights and other Israeli groups working to ensure that Israel protects the human rights of all-Jew and Arab alike.