By Joseph Korson
We have reached an ‘historic moment’ in the story of Israel and Palestine. You could even say a ‘turning point’. Or even a ‘pivotal moment’. Unfortunately these are only slogans and words that mean nothing unless brave people act.
This historical opportunity is not being led by the grand powers who decide where our destiny lies but by two simple families whose hearts are torn asunder.
The families of murdered Israeli teen Naftali Fraenkel and murdered Palestinian boy Mohammed Abu Khdeir are doing something deep and inspiring.
In their most desperate moment these two families are rising above the tumultuous times to show us a face of humanity in its finest form. When Rachelle Fraenkel spoke to the family of Mohammed Abu Khdeir a blinding light of hope shone for a brief and powerful moment.
Those of us who were able to feel the grief of both families would have also felt the power of this gesture. It’s a profound moment when you internalize what it took for those families to rise above their deep suffering and offer forgiveness and support to one another.
I know we could have peace in this Land. I know this because I experienced it in a very personal way. Having lived in Jerusalem since making Aliya at the age of 16 I came to know this city in a very privileged way.
In the diversity that is Jerusalem it’s very easy to categorize and label one other. From ‘he is an Arab to he is a Jew’ to ‘ he is Religious to he is Not’. We find it easier to generalize but this makes us blind to the heart of those that live around us.
During my life in Jerusalem for various reasons I seemed to float like a bubble in a category no one could quite figure out. This aloof status allowed me to experience many of the glorious cultures that are alive in the 49 square miles of Jerusalem and nearby Bethlehem.
As a teen my best friend was an American Christian Arab whose family lived in Bethlehem. I loved visiting with his clan, experiencing the culture and having grand adventures. I will never forget the two black Mohammed’s. The first Mohammed wanted to be called ‘Sam’ and he was a kung foo instructor. We used to go to his home and he would train us in martial arts. Mohammed number two was a musician (now a PA policeman) who played the drums with rhythm and class. I will always remember visiting him at his home in Dahashe refugee camp. He lived in a cinderblock house and yet he made me feel like a royal visitor. I grew to know and love these friends and the people of Bethlehem.
In my years here I had many friends from all walks of life. Some of my most enduring friends were a group of Israelis who all came from the ‘schuna’ or the ‘hood’. They dragged me kicking and screaming into understanding the ‘head’ of an Israeli. They opened my eyes to the immense conglomerate of cultural and social diversity that makes up Israeli society.
I lived in many neighborhoods in Jerusalem. Each neighborhood had its very own culture and character.
The 3 years that we lived in the Arab viliage of A-Tur in a house my mother rented from sheik Abu-Hawa was a fascinating period of cultural immersion into another world. My mother’s open door policy allowed us to become part of the village. The neighbors were always welcome and we shared holidays and celebrations together. I used to go every Wednesday night to watch wrestling at the neighbor’s house with all the guys. Never did I experience any discomfort, they let me feel as a loved brother.
We left a-tor shortly after the start of the first Intifada. Not because we felt in danger being the only Jews living in an Arab village but because I was about to be drafted in the IDF. When our neighbors found out we were leaving they assumed it was because of the uprising and called together all the Elders of the village to plead with us to stay and vowing to protect as their own family.
The years may have caused distance but the relationships still endure. I know if someday I am allowed to visit Bethlehem again and I saw Mohammed in his PA police uniform we will embrace like a long lost brothers.
We need to look at what the Fraenkel and Abu Khdeir families have done and see it as the beginning spark of a process of reconciliation. We have seen for years the results of the ‘World’ forcing upon us the idea of ‘Peace’ without the process of reconciliation. There is an enormous amount of hurt and anger built up over many years of conflict that both sides need to address and confront.
By the courageous act of compassion from one grieving mother to another mother feeling her same grief we can find hope.
We have been given a gift. This gift is a powerful example to show to all sides that we can find love and forgiveness in our little corner of this world.
This humble moment is a bright shining beacon in this dark and chaotic time. Our leaders must embrace this chance to change the dangerous course we are headed. This is a chance to break the mistrust and fear that infects the people. True Peace exists in this land as I have felt it. It may be very distant right now but without the process of asking for forgiveness and forgiving it will always be impossible to reach.
I am Israeli and I am sorry for all the hurt I have caused to my Arab cousins. Please forgive me.
If a mother whose son was brutally murdered can do it so can I! You can’t argue with that!
Reconciliation has to start somewhere and two very brave and honorable families could be the starting point of something spectacular.
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