Deityblog

It was incredible to see Eliyahu there, after it had been so long. It made everything instantly right. For more on Eliyahu, scroll down to some of the first few posts, from the Sulha last year. That'll give you an idea of what the Sulha itself actually is.

We joined the silent peace walk coming in to the park, where I reunited, and Yaakov united, with Ihab, Gaby, and Ibrahim. The walk led us through a few covered tents with breathtaking photos on the walls. Turns out it was a photo essay facilitated by none other than the amazing Azriel Cohen (I think I wrote about him last year, too), who gave cameras to one group of Israeli kids in Tel Aviv, a group of Jordanian kids in Amman, and a group of Palestinian kids in Tulkarem, I believe. What was most remarkable about the pictures was the similarity of the teens' experience, as a whole, to that of their counterparts on the "other side."

From the Welcome tent ("wilkomm cen-tare"), we grasped the vastness of the park. This place was seriously huge, a serious departure from last year's intimate, if cramped gathering at Shuni. If it was hard to keep track of things last year, I immediately got a bit worried about this year. But I tried to keep that in the back of my mind,and just focused on Yaakov and how he was taking everything in. He seemed instantly alive, and I realized that for the first time, it's like we're seeing one another in context--where we want to be together, and what we want to be doing. We're seeing the dream that, God willing, is going to come true, very soon.

Anyway, the welcome center opened up on a vast area including Eliyahu's Beit Tfilah (house of prayer), where regular Jewish and Muslim prayers were to be held, as well as communal prayer and workshops on religion and peacebuilding. There was also, of course, the Tent of Sarah and Hagar, where women would come together for intense dialogue circles (that, if last year would prove the trend, would turn into serious bonding and crying circles). There was a cafe in the middle of the Park that turned out Turkish coffee, nana tea, and lafa with labne and zatar. The Bereaved Parents Forum was over to the right, already gathering a crowd together. The Silent Tent was to the left, for meditation. "Eretz HaYeladim," Kid Land, encompassed the entire midsection of the park, and we were already seeing groups of kids of all faiths getting together and kicking the ball around. The stage was down and to the right, and the kitchen and campgrounds were to the left. Okay, we were oriented.
And then, score, we got a tent for the night from Sulha organizer Daniel, an Israeli who liked to go around wearing khafiyehs and jalbiyehs, if I'm pronouncing that correctly.

We gathered around the center lawn and, of course, were treated to a beautiful original niggun by Gaby on the guitar. I noticed two things--one, less people were there for the opening ceremonies than last year, and two, there were more religious people of all faiths, which to me was a very good sign. I remember scrambling to get a minyan together last year, and it only happened once.

Gaby and Fara Gaye spoke about the meaning of the Sulha and the power of religion to bring peace between Israelis and Palestinians. Afterwards, we broke up into dialogue circles, but Yaakov and I ran over and accosted Devorah Brous. For those of you who don't know her, you should. Five years ago, Devorah, a beautiful, outspoken, kickass wonderwoman, founded the organization Bustan (garden, literally), Building Using Sustainable Technology and Agriculture in Neighborhoods (I think), www.bustan.org.

Bustan brings Arabs and Jews together to work to make the lives of marginalized communities in Israel more livable, particularly those of the Bedouin.
Devorah gave a workshop that day at the Sulha, in which she had us hold a large elastic circle, which she said represented 2% of the Negev, the desert which makes up the entire Israeli south. In this 2%, called Dimona, Devorah had people go in to represent the two giant nuclear reactors that are there, then the 17 chemical factors, then the huge toxic waste dump, then two sewage rivers, then the electric and water companies. Once pretty much all of us were in the teeny little elastic triangle, Devorah informed us that this is where the the entire Bedouin community of the Negev, 160,000 strong, has been forced to live, under these toxic conditions. MUCH more on this later. So the point was, these Bedouin are Israeli citizens, they serve in the Israeli army, they pay taxes. Yet the Israeli government seems to be just throwing them away and destroying their way of life, creating what some fear will be a Negev intifada of Bedouin seeking to reclaim their rights. Devorah's point was that while everyone is focusing on the Palestinians, there is grave injustice being committed inside Israel itself, also.

At that point, we were greeted by the fabulous Anna, Eli, and Sarah Barefoot, chevra fixtures from the galus side. We davened a mystical mincha-maariv,and at about that point Yaakov and I passed out from jetlag.