This is a delayed post.
Well over a month ago, Natalie and I found ourselves in the northern West Bank, in the village of Awarra. We had volunteered with the organization Rabbis for Human Rights to join in the beginning of the Palestinian olive harvest.
Its hard, with this much time between the experience and this reflection to accurately describe our emotions during and after the day. It was an intense day. It was hot and very dry. Our hands were swollen from stripping the trees of their fruit (Josh) and sorting through the piles of the green and purple olives (Natalie.)
We went out as observers. To provide a watchful, Jewish eye, and to situate ourselves meaningfully between the Palestinian farmers, the army--who's job it is to provide a safe picking season--and the occasional Jewish settler.
The two of us joined a small family--Dad, wife, several children, mother-in-law--to pick their handful of trees. These olives were going to be pressed and/or pickled for the family to make it through the year. No one was making any money with these trees. We stood on ladders, picked, and then sat down to a remarkable, simple lunch. We had, hands-down, the best sweet tea of our lives. The secret, apparently, is sage. The dad spoke very good hebrew, and we chatted about all sorts of mundane and serious things. Otherwise we giggled with the children.
We also encountered the Israeli Army. Some of the officers were mellow. But as the day progressed, the Army became twitchy until we were finally advised by Rabbi Arik Ascherman that we ought to abandon our posts or risk being arrested.
The issue was the presence of violent settlers who stir up anxiety among everyone. We were picking olives in the distant shadow of the Jewish settlement of Itamar. This particular area of the territories has a fraught history. During the second intifada a Palestinian infiltrated Itamar and murdered a mother and her children. More recently a Palestinian farmer was chased and murdered in the fields--probably the same ones were in working in that day.
I feel weird reporting all this. Our experience was basically fascinating. We met with the local council chairman. We were permitted to put faces--many children's faces--to the rather abstract struggle that everyday--both here and in America--seems to completely absorb our hearts and minds.
Both of us agree that more interactions and extended encounters of this sort are important for us to gain deeper understandings of the circumstances surrounding the injustices which the Palestinian people suffer daily.
That said, for me, at least, I cannot say that going out to pick olives has made my own perceptions of the conflict more clarified. Of course, we hope for a quick and just resolution to the struggle. With two states for two peoples. Freedom of movement, education, peace, economic partnerships. I know my grandparents would buy oranges in Ramallah in the early 70s. That would be a nice reality again.
I am an idealist. And I think peace is good for our people. But I also do not want to be naive and not think there aren't elements out in those same hills that given the chance wouldn't murder Jews, and cannot--at least in this generation--accept any presence of the Jewish people in the Land of Israel. Similarly, there are violent and aggressive Jews who will do anything to thwart the return of Palestinian land and to blatantly intimidate and attack innocents Palestinians. So my idealism is tempered.
And, all of that tempered-ness said, the work of Rabbis for Human Rights and other Israeli progressive organizations is heartening. There is a vast wave of people here who genuinely want peace and reconciliation. And they are not just lefty secularists. There are many rabbis and religious Jews for whom peace is a central goal. RHR represents many of those folks. And any trip to Israel really cannot be complete without some participation in their projects--on either side of the green line.
Here are two photos from the day. We will post more tomorrow.
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