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Thank God, I'm finally here. For several years now this has been a dream that has not left me alone, or allowed me to forget this strange pull to this land. This is my first time outside of Britain and the culture I've grown up in. I was fully expecting an initial loud shock (as 24 years of familiar cultural norms blew out the window), and in this I was not disappointed.
The first thing that hits, is the sheer speed of everything in Israel. Not just in the scary style that people drive their cars (just one of its more noticeable expressions) - I've felt the same ingrained hecticness everywhere. I've not met an energy like this before, and although it appears to me to be very unbalanced just now, I don't perceive this as negative. For me, I see this energy as being in a very wild and raw state - heavy with potentials and possibilities. As with a hyperactive child that has simply not learnt to be still yet, its current state of agitation has little or no bearing on what it will grow up to become. Almost anything could happen here and I find this very exciting.
The second thing to impact on me was the guns. Actually, for personal reasons, the second thing that stunned me was seeing Hebrew everywhere. This was a delightful shock. The impact of the guns came close behind though, and was devoid of any delight. Maybe Americans aren't as phased out by this - but for me this was something very new and a tad alarming. Especially to find so many of these dramatic looking weapons under the care and "wisdom" of what look like children. (Literally a few days ago, while taking a short cut in a car thru the Old City into the Jewish quarter, we were stopped at a gate by a group of about eight "kids" with guns. There was not one adult among them. Not one of them looked over 19.). It's a strange sight to get used to - but you do get used to it.
After landing at Ben Gurion airport at about three in the morning, and with grateful surprise at not meeting the intense interrogation and search I had been told to expect (mainly due I think to the excellent letter of introduction I had from a friend who is a professor at Tel Aviv University), I gently made my way by buses to Jerusalem. The combined factors of my exhaustion, the climate, the stupefying effect of sudden culture change and the fact that at this stage the wad of sheqlim I had in my pocket made about as much sense to me as monopoly money meant that I had virtually no chance against the hawk like Israeli taxi driver who swooped in and totally succeeded in capitalizing on my dazed condition! Bless 'iz cotton socks.
My destination was the blessed home of Hajj Ibrahim Abu El Hawa - a man dedicated to peace, a friend to all who meet him and a tool of God's kindness and mercy. His first words to me as I stepped out of the Arab cab (my Jewish taxi driver friend had refused to come into the Arab neibourhoods saying he was scared) were, "Hello - you are welcome in my home". As I sat in Ibrahim's kitchen munching on a beautiful meal of pitta, khumus, salad and spicy fried egg, I gratefully discarded the cautious vigilance that I had been tiredly sustaining - and for the first time in Erets Yisra'El, I properly relaxed. I felt completely safe.
I spent my first day in the Old City. Jason, an American Jew staying at Ibrahim's offered to give me a tour - and thank God he did. I think it could easily have become quite messy and overwhelming if I had gone off exploring on my own in my now nearly psychedelic state of exhaustion. He showed me virtually everything. It was awesome. When we went onto the Temple Mount (one of the first places we went) my body was virtually shaking. A powerful place and no mistake.
In the morning of my second day in Israel, David (a lovely man from England who now lives in Jordan) heard that there was a peace march that would be reaching Jerusalem today. They had been walking for two days along an ancient pilgrimage path (used for centuries by Jews, Muslims and Christians) from Jaffa to Jerusalem. Today they would be completing the final part of this happy journey - walking from Ein Karem and finishing in the Old City. David was eager and well up for joining them somewhere along the route and walking this last part with them. I straight away responded with a hearty "Yes - I" when he told me of this. This is why I'm here, after all. Peace, Love and universal brotherhood - that old chestnut.
David spent most of the morning on the phone trying to find the groups whereabouts and direction. As time drew on, we decided instead to meet them in the Old City and go on with them from there. By this time Ibrahim had heard of the march and invited the whole group round to his house to eat! David and I walked from the Mount of Olives into the Old City where we eventually met our pixie pilgrims in an alcove overlooking the Kotel (Wailing Wall). One of the walls of the alcove had a huge piece of Khasidic graffiti with the 'mantra' of the beloved Jewish ambassador of joy, 'Rabbi Nakhman'.
As the group came down the steps into the alcove they sang Haveynu shalom aleykhem (we bring peace upon you), alternating from Hebrew to the same words in Arabic "Jibna salaam aleykum". I sat down with the group in a circle and we shared a few minutes of silence before passing a stick around to share their experiences of the journey. I didn't understand any of the Hebrew, but enjoyed this opportunity to meet people in a very simple attentive way.
After the sharing (and a short lurk - where I exchanged names and hugs), we bimbled back thru the Old City thru the Arab quarter towards Gat-Shemnim (Getsemani). At a point where the street widened at a junction (into Via Dolorosa), we grasped this opportunity to form a circle holding hands, and dancing we sang a song in Arabic. I understood the song to be some kind of invocation to Divine peace. It is a wonderfully freeing thing to dance and sing to God in the streets. It really makes your heart smile.
Many of the Arab shop owners and their customers stood around watching us. A small group of Arab kids, standing on some steps next to us found our hippy antics pretty funny, but declined with extravert shyness our invitation to join us. Although once in a while one of the smaller kiddies would run thru the middle of the circle and out the other side to our cheers and applause. We respectfully stopped when the call to prayer sounded and continued our way towards the Mount of Olives.
It was quite a tiring walk up the steep rocky path from Getsemani and it was dark by the time we reached the top. Our relief to be on level ground was almost immediately transformed into vigorous musical expression. Drums, guitars and voices suddenly filled the air. About 20-25 children who were playing nearby plus a few women came to see what was going on. This time there was no inhibition and they were all more than happy to join us (or we to join them, or us to join us or whatever way you want to look at it).
What followed, I found really beautiful. We flowed across the road into a dusty open space. We formed yet another circle for a while holding hands with the children and singing. Many of the children eagerly gathered around the drummers and took turns to beat out their rhythms. A few little 'uns rode smiling on dancing shoulders. I shared a few words with one of the Arab women in Hebrew. Here my ultra-limited sketchy vocabulary was virtually no obstacle at all - because what we wanted to share was so simple and immediately understood, and hardly needed much articulation as it was written on our faces. Of course we all want peace. Of course we are all the same. What a relief and joy it is to be ruled by the simplicity of your heart instead of fear. People may think this a naïve view - but does it need to be made more complicated than this?
It was getting late as we arrived finally (via a short stop at the 'stonecave' restaurant for coffee and yes…more singing!) at the home of Ibrahim El Hawa - the patron saint of hospitality and generosity. A gert hearty feast was laid out and gratefully received. Over the many years that Ibrahim has welcomed uncountable numbers of people into his home, these walls must have absorbed so much gratitude and happiness.
I accepted an invitation from these beautiful peace munchkins to return with them to their forest camp at Ein Karem. I was sat talking quietly around a relaxed fire and feeling just about ready to wish people "laylah tov" and turn in for the night, when a girl came over and told us of the news that bombs had been detonated that night in the Sinai, and a lot of people had been killed.
The girl with the news invited us to join together in meditation. This word means many things to many people - but really it's exact and various semantics are irrelevant. At its heart it simply means being still. Bringing stillness into your experience - your reactions, thoughts and emotions. No mental understanding is necessary, helpful or even possible. The profound and deeply healing power of stillness demonstrates itself only through itself, not through concepts. In my eyes, to be still, is by far the sanest and most beneficial response to violence and conflict (internal and external).
So we sat together in stillness around the fire. Each experiencing their own reactions, and (I have no doubt) all benefiting from the combined presence of the group, helping us not to get completely lost in the hurt, confusion and despair that can easily happen at such times. I am sure also, that in this interconnected universe that we live in, the space that we brought to each other, had ripples of peace in the chaos and panic ensuing in Sinai.
It is a myth and a lie, propagated by the antagonists, manipulators and perpetrators of violence, that we are helpless. We are none of us separate from anything else in the universe. You cannot escape the responsibility of the implications of this truth. By responding in anger and hatred (even if just internally and not outwardly expressed) can only contribute to the insanity that had plagued human consciousness for millennia. Equally, responses of despair, anxiety, guilt, apathy or nonchalance effects and burdens the collective consciousness and allows the madness of fear, violence and greed to continue and thrive on this planet.
So it must follow, (and what amazing, joyful, good news this is - barukh ha'shem! - that when we meet and respond to the world (and ourselves) with peace, acceptance, forgiveness, joy and Love (all of these reveal themselves in stillness) we have an equally deep and profound impact on everything. We do not realize yet how powerful we all are. The revolution will not be televised. It will be silent and it our hearts.
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