Monthly Archives: April 2007

Israelis and Palestinians: Getting Their Stories Straight

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“What we’re talking about is the disarming of history, where the teaching of history no longer feeds the conflict.”

– Dr. Dan Bar-On

Many have observed – and I agree – that the core of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict is the collision of two very different national liberation movements, each with equally compelling claims to the same land. I would additionally argue that embedded within these respective claims is a characteristic use of history and memory. Israelis and Palestinians have created, in a sense, parallel mythic “narratives” – fundamentally different collective responses to the same historical events.

One oft-cited example: the 1948 War of Independence represents for Israelis the moment the Jewish People realized their centuries-long yearning to be a free nation in their ancient homeland. For Palestinians, however, this event is referred to as “The Catastrophe,” (or al-Nakba in Arabic) and represents the moment 750,000 Palestinians became refugees exiled from their homeland.

The exploration of parallel narratives is central to an important new curriculum for Israeli and Palestinian High School students that is being developed by the Peace Research Institute of the Middle East (PRIME). School textbooks are, of course, a primary way to convey and instill a people’s national ideology. The PRIME curriculum, however, rejects a singular ideological view of the conflict through a singular ideological lens, choosing instead to juxtapose the parallel narratives of Israelis and Palestinians. To date they have developed three workbooks, exploring the respective histories from the Balfour Declaration to the first Intifada.

In a recent Ha’aretz article, Dr. Dan Bar-On (a Professor at Ben-Gurion University and one of the founders of the project) commented:

Our goal is not to build a single agreed-on narrative; that is a mission impossible…The goal is to get to know and respect the narrative of the other, even if we don’t agree with everything it says. Clearly this is not a process that will solve all the problems; many dilemmas will remain. But where have we ever heard of a Palestinian teaching about the Holocaust?

In USA Today, Dr. Sami Adawan of Bethlehem University (Dr. Bar-On’s Palestinian partner in the project) made it clear that mutual co-existence is the ultimate goal of the PRIME curriculum:

The way a conflict or history is taught in the classroom can either support that conflict or (support) co-existence…The project aims to break down the stereotypes and build nuanced understandings.

The PRIME curriculum faces many formidable challenges: it is not yet used on a widespread basis in either community – and not surprisingly, there is significant opposition in both camps to using historical pedagogy of this nature. Still, in the midst of an increasingly hopeless and intractable conflict, I believe efforts such as this represent a very real spark of hope. While it cannot be denied that our collective stories help us make sense of the world, it is also possible to become imprisoned in the exclusive “truth” of our narratives. It may well be that by honoring the truths of multiple narratives, we make the first step toward real reconciliation.

(In addition to the links above, I recommend a fine profile on the PRIME project on American Public Radio’s “Speaking of Faith.”)

On Auschwitz, Phnom Phenh and Darfur

20020627skulls.jpgThis Saturday, JRC will commemorate Yom Hashoah (Holocaust Remembrance Day) with a memorial service for the victims of the Shoah, followed by a presentation from a survivor of a more recent genocide.

On April 17, 1975, the Khmer Rouge invaded the Cambodian capital of Phnom Penh and initiated a genocidal campaign against the Cambodian people that would last for four years. The day Phnom Penh fell, a young Cambodian medical student named Leon Lim was forced from his home and was sent to a labor camp. After the Vietnamese invaded Cambodia in 1979, Lim, his wife and her family walked for six weeks to the border of Thailand. They spent the next three years in refugee camps, where Lim worked as a medic.

The Lim family eventually managed to move to the United States in 1981, settling in Chicago. Leon now teaches at Northside College Preparatory High School, where he and his students have developed an important curriculum that uses the Cambodian experience to explore the universal concept of genocide. He is also a founder of the Cambodian Association of Illinois, which houses the Cambodian American Heritage Museum and Killing Fields Memorial. When I met Leon earlier this year, he told me his powerful story and gave me a tour of the center – a small but exquisite gem of a museum located in Albany Park.

The great Israeli Holocaust scholar Yehuda Bauer has written:

killing-fields-memorial.jpgEach genocide is different, but it would be a mistake to dismiss the similarities. Foremost among them is the suffering of the victims. There is no better or worse genocide, just as there is no better or worse murder, no better or worse torture. There is no scale to measure suffering. Jews, Armenians or Poles who were martyred and murdered all suffered the same.

I do believe that we honor to the victims of the Shoah whenever we honor our common humanity with all victims of genocidal persecution. (It is tragically serendipitous that April 17 – two days after Yom Hashoah – is the day the Cambodian community has chosen to be their communal memorial of the Cambodian genocide.) If you live in the Chicagoland area, I invite you to JRC’s Yom Hashoah memorial to hear Leon Lim’s testimony. (Click here for further information.)

Postscript: The genocide in Darfur – the first genocide of the 21st century – has now shamefully entered its fourth year. I encourage you to learn more about the upcoming “Global Days for Darfur” (April 23-30) a week-long series of events that will give us all the opportunity to speak out. (More about Darfur in upcoming posts…)

Sitting Up Straight at Seder

seder7.jpgHope everyone had a wonderful Pesach. Here’s a nice moment from one of my seders:

It was brought to my attention (thanks Lesley Williams!) that the evening of second seder was also the anniversary of MLK’s “I’ve Been to the Mountaintop” speech (which he delivered in Memphis the night before he was assassinated.) We read it at our seder and were all taken at how perfectly his words fit into the Pesach experience. It was profoundly moving to hear aloud the words of a man who seemed to understand, like Moses at the end of the Torah, that he would die before entering the land:

Well, I don’t know what will happen now. We’ve got some difficult times ahead. But it doesn’t matter to me now. And I don’t mind. Like anybody, I would like to live a long life. Longevity has its place. But I’m not concerned about that now. I just want to do God’s will. And He’s allowed me to go up to the mountain. And I’ve looked over. And I’ve seen the Promised Land. I may not get there with you. But I want you to know tonight, that we, as a people, will get to the Promised Land. And I’m happy tonight. I’m not worried about anything. I’m not fearing any man. Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord.

One line in his speech caught my eye in particular:

And wherever men and women straighten their backs up, they are going somewhere, because a man can’t ride your back unless it is bent.

A stray thought: what an interesting challenge to the orthopedic directive of the seder! Might we dare to sit up straight and tall, not recline? (After all, a man can’t ride your back unless it’s bent…)

On Passover, Parents and Children

joyful-children.jpgYesterday at our Shabbat morning minyan, I noticed a particularly large number of parents and children. Over here was an adult woman helping her elderly mother by pointing along to the transliteration in the siddur. Over there was a man with his four year old in his lap, his tallit falling down across her shoulders. There was also one family with three generations present: a member celebrating his sixtieth birthday, his parents who attended for the occasion, and his son who chanted Torah in his honor.

As it was Shabbat Hagadol (“The Great Shabbat,” the Shabbat which falls before Pesach) I thought of the special Haftarah we read for this occasion, Malachi 3, which ends with the classic passage:

“Lo, I will send the prophet Elijah to you before the coming of the awesome fearful day of the Lord. He shall reconcile parents with children and children with parents…”

The image of reconciliation in these verses are meant to evoke a sense of the messianic era ushered in by the prophet Elijah. I couldn’t help but think yesterday, as I looked around our sanctuary, that we were all getting a little taste of messianic days right there in our modest little minyan.

Children, of course, are central to the Pesach story. The Torah commands us to teach this story to our children, and the seder includes numerous pedagogical exercises that help us instill its sacred meaning and relevance: the youngest child asks the Four Questions; we read about the four different kinds of children who respond differently to the seder experience; we add songs at the end of the seder in order to keep our children (hopefully!) interested and engaged. On a somewhat darker level, it is impossible to ignore the fact that the seder story also includes notable examples of children in peril. In particular, Pharoah’s decree to kill all newborn male children drives home the tragically familiar truth that it is inevitably children – the most vulnerable members of society – who are the first to bear the brunt of communal persecution.

This is for me one central but too often ignored lesson of the Pesach story: the sacred imperative to protect the rights of all our children. It is an imperative that goes to the very survival of society – for the very future of communities and nations are directly related to the extent to which they safeguard the well-being of their youngest members. (In this regard, I am intrigued by the full text of Malachi 3: “He shall reconcile parents with children and children with parents, so that, when I come, I do not strike the whole land with utter destruction.”)

Alas, in the 21st century, our global community is failing their children miserably. According to Human Rights Watch:

The global scandal of violence against children is a horror story too often untold. With malice and clear intent, violence is used against the members of society least able to protect themselves – children in school, in orphanages on the street, in refugee camps and war zones, in detention, and in fields and factories. In its investigations of human rights abuses against children, Human Rights Watch has found that in every region of the world, in almost every aspect of their lives, children are subject to unconscionable violence, most often perpetrated by the very individuals charged with their safety and well-being.

Here at home, the National Center for Children in Poverty estimates that

Twelve million children live in families with incomes below the federal poverty level—which is about $16,000 for a family of three and $19,000 for a family of four. Perhaps more stunning is that 5 million children live in families with incomes of less than half the poverty level—and the numbers are rising.

The Children’s Defense Fund offers the following sobering data:

- A baby is born without health care every 52 seconds;

- A child is abused or neglected every 35 seconds – 906,000 a year.

- Over 3/4 of youths in detention have untreated mental health disorders.

- A child drops out of school every nine seconds of the school day.

- One out of every three Black baby boys born in 2001 will spend time in prison during their lifetimes.

If we do believe that Pesach compels us not only to teach our children but to keep them safe, then facts such as these should awaken us to resolve and inspire us to action. Please click the links above and find how how you can help make a difference this Passover.

May we find the means to reconcile ourselves to all our children; may we ourselves bring the Messiah, speedily in our own day.