Saturday night

Day four (Saturday night).

At the end of the “business day,” I was ready to pack my bags and go home. Go home. Done. I’m done – see ya later.

Then, we had our oh-so-necessary and long-delayed Episcopal alcohol outing. Two lovely bottles of red wine from the Golan Heights Winery later – I think I can face Sunday, Monday and Tuesday.

In every trip I take, there’s always a moment of “wow, I love these people. I’m really going to be sad to leave.” Today was that day for me. I love the people on this trip – in all their eccentricities – and I love the camaraderie and humor we share. I also appreciate – to such a great extent that I cannot express it – that all these bishops and priests have accepted me with open arms and actually LISTEN TO ME. I don’t feel marginalized. I don’t feel young. I don’t feel insignificant. I actually feel quite normal, quite able to contribute, and quite happy. This is a huge moment for me. I think I’ve finally made the transition from child to adult in the church. These very wise and very educated people are listening to me, dignifying me, and most times, agreeing with my assessments of certain issues. I feel pretty damn fantastic.

Also, though, I feel somewhat out of place. Today we had a meeting in Bethlehem with a Palestinian family, and we were offered candies, coffee, and treats. I’ve lived with Arabs, and Arab hospitality is beautiful. I knew going into the meeting that it would be rude to refuse the gifts being offered to us. To me – this is just common knowledge of how to behave in Arab culture. I was astonished by how many members of our group refused – politely, of course –the food and drink. I was a little embarrassed, actually. This is a simple matter – it’s the American politeness of declining in the American way versus Arab hospitality being offered to make the stranger feel like a friend. Two very different systems. I just wish we had discussed it prior to the meeting. I remember my Moroccan mother once being almost hurt that I refused the cookies she had set out for me to enjoy. She offered dozens of cookies – all for me, and all for a simple visit. I said, “La, shukran,” (no, thank you) because I was already full. And then the look on her face came, and I immediately regretted that choice. Arabs are generous and hospitable to a fault. Folks – if you ever travel in the Middle East and you are lucky enough to spend time with people who live there, don’t refuse their offerings. It is their cultural – and beautiful – way of welcoming you, of making you feel like a friend and not a stranger.

At dinner this evening, I was eating with three other women in my group. Across from us, a few tables away, a black Jewish couple sat eating their meal. One of the women at my table is black, and she wanted to get a photograph of this black Jewish couple, since they were the first we had seen. We waited until after dinner. As we were leaving the dining room, the man had his head bowed in prayer as he cradled his prayer book in his hands. His wife was at the buffet getting some more food. One of my friends retrieved the camera from her pocket to photograph the man. I took out my cellphone to look distracted and distanced myself from my group. I didn’t want to be part of these curious and inappropriate Americans taking a picture of a man engaged in humble prayer to his god – in an intimate location, close enough to reach out and touch him. Taking pictures at the Western Wall is one thing. It is huge, it is an open air, public space, and thousands of tourists visit every day. Taking a picture of a black Jew praying in a dining room full of tourists and other Jews at the end of a holy Shabbat– this is just audacious. He ignored her while she took the picture. His wife returned to the table and gave us all a quizzical look. Her husband had not lifted his head from his prayers. “Do you mind if I take your picture?” she asked. The black Jewish woman did not understand her question, so my friend proceeded to position herself to take their photograph.

I was rather disgusted and annoyed. It’s just backwards and strange. Let’s imagine for a minute: I’m in Ghana, or Mongolia, or some other place where my skin color and culture make me out of place. And, curious and silly tourists take out their camera to take a picture of me while I’m kneeling in prayer. “Oh, look at the interesting white girl kneeling down, performing her religious rituals. How fascinating. Let’s take a photograph of this curiosity.”
Oh- but wait. This would never happen to me in another place. This is pure American tourist syndrome, orientalism, and an “oh how quaint and fascinating” attitude rolled into one.

Eww. Ewwwwww. Ewwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww.

These are not cultural curiosities. These are people, living their lives. They’re not on display, they’re not on stage, and they’re not play-acting for your amusement. Why are we taking their photograph?

Those things aside, I will conclude today by saying that I don’t want to write about this conflict today. The layers are only piling up, the interreligious, interethnic, inter-Jewish, inter-Palestinian, and inter-political dialectics are only twisting my brain into a knot.

I can say, with assurance and in full confidence, that there is 1000 times more complexity to this conflict than opinionated Americans understand, or than educated pundits care to write about. Before you jump ship into the extreme pro-Israel camp, or wear your keffiyeh and carry your Palestinian flag, stop for a moment. Think. Read. And get your butt to Israel and Palestine for something more than a religious pilgrimage.

There’s much, much, much more to this conflict than any of us dare to imagine. It’s too weighty. It’s too hard. It’s too much.

And that’s exactly why we should either read voraciously, study voraciously, and talk to people living these realities (normal people, on the ground – and not politicians), or just claim ignorance and shut up.

Why didn’t I shut up before?
How stupid I was.