The fourth book of the Torah is almost over. We're in the last parashah before we turn to Deuteronomy (Devarim), which is basically Moses' long monologue before he dies and the people prepare to enter the Holy Land. You can almost picture this Kodak moment:
The traveling is complete. The people are standing at the border, about to cross into a beautiful land flowing with milk and honey, and they're looking out across this wide open expanse, unsettled and empty, peacefully waiting for them to take possession of it... Well, that's how many of us imagine it anyway.
This is a really important myth that we must dispel. When the Israelites arrived at the border of Canaan, there were LOTS of people living there. Which is not to say that those people didn't displace OTHER people, or that the locals had a deed since the dawn of time giving them sole ownership of everything.
But let's not fool ourselves into ignoring that our ancestors took this land by force, and had to battle other peoples to conquer every piece of land they settled. Our Torah portion may state: "when you enter the land of Canaan, this is the land that shall fall to you as your portion" (Numbers, 34:2), but that's quite frankly ridiculous! The land didn't 'fall' into our hands, like a gift from heaven. We seized it; and the fight hasn't really ended ever since.
I don't bring this up to judge or deny Jewish claims to the land of Israel (because people were constantly displacing one another in those days; who's to say that ANYONE was the rightful and 'original' owner??). I do, however, think it's important not to forget this part of our history - with all the violent, uncomfortable, gritty parts that go with it - because there really are OTHER players in this drama. We are not the sole actors,
and sometimes we don't even seem like the protagonists! Palestinians, Druze, Bedouins - they are all citizens of that same piece of land and cannot be ignored. In his latest book, What We Talk About When We Talk About Anne Frank, Nathan Englander writes a series of short stories about being Jewish. One story focuses on the experience of pioneers in the Israeli settlements, and Englander offers a scathing critique of their way of life. At one point, an early settler decides to chop down an old olive tree on 'her' land, and a young Arab quickly shows up and demands that she stop chopping. "It's my tree, on my land, in my country. Mine to cut down if I please," she insists. "If it was your tree," retorts the young Arab, "I'd have seen you at my side last year during harvest. I'd have seen you the year before that, and ten years before that, and a hundred."
I cannot tell you that boy was right; who knows when his family actually arrived, or if he had any real claims to it. But it's the audacity, the chutzpah, of the settlers to claim a plot of land, chop down its trees, and insist that God wants you there; THAT is what's destroying the peace
process. Sure, there are atrocities being committed on the Palestinian side as well. But let's stop pretending this land 'fell' into our ancestors' laps, and let's most certainly stop pretending we're the only ones with a claim to it. Until we can read the texts of our tradition with new eyes, and recognize all the people who ALSO share the Holy Land, nothing new is going to be accomplished. We can no longer stand at the border and pretend we see no one; it's WAY too crowded for that.
Photos in this blog post:
3. Image courtesy of Rabbi Gerber's iPhone
There are books on six-word memoirs; NPR launched a race card project, challenging listeners to express their thoughts on 'race' in just six words; and there are many others like this out there.
