The Bethlehem Incident
by Adam | Sunday 10 September 2006
From the top of the Herodion outside of Bethlehem, you can see a great deal.
To the north, you can look into Bethlehem to the Church of the Nativity and Rachel's Tomb...
The east gives you a view into Jordan and distant Amman as well as a patch of the Dead Sea.
There are deserts and neighborhoods, hills, mountains, the sea, farmland, wasteland, you get the picture.
Hassan and I had been picked up after the checkpoint by Mahmoun, a Bethlehem Palestinian, and our new tour guide/cab driver. He shows us all the Bethlehem sights on the fly, promising us the most impressive view (and a substantially higher cab fare) from the Herodion.
En route, he tells us about his life in Bethlehem; while Hassan stops to buy provisions, Mahmoun and I bond over talk about being twenty-five and past frustrations with Mediterranean women. He's young, very soft-spoken, off-puttingly excited, and not overwhelmingly angry or jaded; basically, he's probably the nicest guy I've met in Israel, Jordan, or the territories.
We've made our way to the eastern part of the Herodion with a view of the Jordanian border and all the tranquil space between, but we don't reach the southern lookout before we've get a view of the angriest, skinniest, whitest sixteen-year-old settler half-running towards us...by us, I mean Mahmoun.
The settler gets right up into Mahmoun's face, asking him over again, are you an Arab? Are you an Arab?.
Mahmoun is not combative and moving away slightly, he tells the settler that he is an Arab.
Hassan and I, a little shocked, jump in betweeen them. The settler asks us if we are Arabs. I blow my cover and tell him in a most guilty voice...Achi...ani Yehud (Brother, I am Jewish). Whether I'm sounding guilty because I want him to feel bad for scaring us or because I called him brother and he actually is my brother, I'm not sure. It's probably both.
Somewhere beneath all this, a guilt initiates for not having pity for my own brother. I know enough stories about things that have happened to the settlers near Bethlehem...yet, I've never seen anyone that represents me act like this.
The settler asks if I am American.
I am.
Pointing to Mahmoun, he tells me in English that no Arabs are allowed here. And that he has to go. Hassan and I explain that he's our guide, we've paid the entrance fee to get in, and the park officer said nothing about Arabs being barred from here. The settler asks for our tickets and we show them to him.
I explain that Mahmoun is just showing us the beautiful land (preferred rhetoric of settlers) and that we wouldn't have been able to see any of this if we hadn't met him.
The settler begins to move away and Mahmoun offers his hand to the settler. When the settler ignores him, Hassan and I berate him for not being a bigger (sixteen-year-old) man. The last thing he says before he turns from us to walk away is that if we ever lived here long enough, we would understand.
A minute or two passes before the settler is out of view. We check on Mahmoun and apologize, then finish our tour. Before we leave, we'll tell the park officer that a settler said Arabs weren't allowed here. The park officer will get angry and tell us that settlers aren't allowed here and that he will make a call about the incident.
Hassan sits down to sketch the view and Mahmoun and I keep walking around.
Yisrael, Yisrael, he says, it's no good.
I promise him that the people are much nicer on the inside of Israel proper. As we reach the southern end, Mahmoun points out the settlement.
And it's true. From the top of the Herodion, you can see a great deal.
Comments (4)
I think this might be my favorite post you have made. It shows the duality of the situation which is often obscured to a polarized audience. Maybe it is that we only see what we want to see. Yet seeing Israeli radicals act with blatant disregard for their fellow man is something that just does not often come across my lines of communication. I knew it existed, and now you have shown us evidence of why peace has been and will be such a difficult task.
Posted by Jason | 11 September @ 14:53
or, to put it another way, it takes two to tango.
i am sorry that in all your travels you had to experience the "other side" of this dispute. it is easy for us, as Jewish-Americans, to just think back to the first time we saw the film "Exodus" and feel justified in our Zionism. we watch "Munich" and envy the characters who are sabras and therefore seemingly more entitled to the desire for the protection of "the beautiful land."
but, we forget, all too readily, that the sons of Abraham came together to bury their father, that the Jewish people lived more harmoniously under the rule of Islam then they ever did under that of Christianity, that we all believe in the One and must live as to prepare for the coming/return of the earthly representation of G-d's love.
i am sorry that you had to meet that settler, and i am glad. he is the perfect counterpart to the man with the over-eager lighter. i find myself wondering if those two men will ever meet, put down their self-righteous baggage, embrace, and work together to make the beautiful land flourish.
after all you've seen and learned, do you agree that this pretty pipe-dream is the goal? can you find the magic wand to facilitate this miracle of understanding? after all you've seen, what are your ideas?
Posted by amelia | 11 September @ 15:18
I could use a stiff drink.
That would be my first idea. :)
Listen, there are radicals in every religion...for us monotheists (we seem to be the most angry ones), it's easy to see how they relate to us on a political level. I can understand why the settler is threatened by the presence of an Arab, I can understand why the Jordanian wants to convert me to get to heaven.
I tend not to agree with the radical Christian who shoots a doctor outside an abortion clinic. But it's easy to understand radicalism, we see people in our lives swing hard left or hard right...maybe as relative centrists, we're radicals in their view.
If you read enough of something, you'll find surprise when the physical antithesis of your belief arrives and shakes you to the core...especially when it's your brother. I am not breaking any serious ground here by saying this.
I'm not sure the settler and the inquistor would ever be able to thrive together. I know I met a far left Jew working in the territories who observes his Judaism in a way more connective to me than the settler does...even if I'd probably become a settler before I'd become an Israel apologist. Likewise, I was traveling with a Muslim who had no designs on ever converting me. The spectrum is huge. I've met them all this month.
It's probably not about any of these conversations happening. It's about the middle ground meeting up. If we bring the sides together and find something that works, it's ultimately alright if the settler never speaks to an Arab for the rest of his life. He's the one missing out. Ditto to my proselytizer.
As the settler walked away, I saw that he was wearing the same baggy JNCO jeans I wore when I was 15. I don't believe I'd be immune to his philosophy if I grew up where he did. Five minutes later, I wondered if he was an angel/prophet. He certainly taught me something. Wouldn't be the first one in Bethlehem.
Clearly, I'll need more time to figure it out.
Posted by Adam | 12 September @ 13:39
As a point of clarification - Judaism under Islam was no picnic. The short periods of calm were good for us, but in the end, life under either Islam or Christianity ended up very badly for Jews. Make no mistake about it.
Moving on, Adam - I beg you, my friend, be careful of the easy trap of any kind of moral relativism. Just because you can understand how, from his perspective your enemy is justified, does not mean that he is right. The longer I live and explore this world the more convinced I am that moral relativism is self-destruction.
If you accept as wholly and unquestionably legitimate the other's moral system, you condemn yourself to annihilation. The only means of survival is to believe that you are possessor of (at least) a correct system. If you accept that the other's system is equal to your own, you must logically end up in accepting that perhaps 'his way' is worth a try - and so you disappear and become one of them.
The settler's, the Palestinians, they both get this, and they both understand that ultimately, victory means forcing the other to accept you - i.e. give up his identity.
We in the West have all accepted an other to supplant our unique old world identities - we have learned to live with and grow into a new identity, based on similar, yet different morals and values (assimilation, to any extent, is the result of this process). And while this is not necessarily a bad thing, it creates trouble when you are confronted by an enemy who seeks your destruction (your conversion, if you will) as a matter of metaphysical necessity.
The great paradox of this conflict is that we must reject an other until that other accepts our system of accepting others.
Posted by Otter425 | 13 September @ 22:06