Out beyond ideas of wrong doing and right doing, there is a field; I’ll meet you there.
Shortly before I left Israel, I went with one of my classmates to the All Nations Café, a group of Israelis, Palestinians, and internationals who meet one evening a week in an abandoned Arab house in a wadi (dry riverbed) in the West Bank. My friend and I took a taxi as far as the checkpoint, then walked across after brief questioning by 2 Israeli soldiers, and continued on foot down the road through a beautiful valley outside Jerusalem.
Usually, people who come to All Nations Café gather around a fire to share food and stories, but that evening there was also a special concert to celebrate the end of the Muslim holiday of Eid. The moon was full, and the path over a rocky gorge was lit by candles in paper lanterns. We arrived early and sat outside by the fire, drinking tea and talking with several Palestinians who live in a refugee camp outside Jerusalem. While we were talking, two young men came by, one Palestinian and one Jewish Israeli, to ask if anyone could help with a project they are working on to build a receptacle for water at the home of a Palestinian man who lived nearby. The previous week I had been on a tour of the south Hebron hills with Shovrei Sh’tika (Breaking the Silence) a group of former IDF soldiers who are critical of the policies of the Israeli government and army in the occupied territories. They took us to the home of a Palestinian family and showed us a well where Jewish settlers had dumped a car so that the well could not be used. Poisoning wells is one way that life is made unbearable for Palestinians in the occupied territories, so it was inspiring to see that there are Jews and Arabs working together to repair some of the damage that has been done.
For the concert we went inside the abandoned stone house. The only lights were candles, some on the floor and some set into the stone walls. There were about 30 people there — roughly 1/3 Palestinians, 1/3 Jewish Israelis, and 1/3 people from other countries (Argentina, Germany, Norway, France and the U.S). The concert included psalms from the Hebrew bible and poetry by the Sufi mystic poet Rumi set to sitar music. It was truly an amazing evening. The singer and sitar player were both Israeli Jews, and after a while a 6-year-old Palestinian girl got up to dance to the music. She was mesmerizing, with her free movement and beautiful smile. Her presence and her joy gave me a sense of hope that not all of our children are being brought up to hate each other.
After to concert there was a sharing circle where each person told where they were from and what had brought them to the All Nations Café. I am truly grateful to know that such a place exists, where Jews and Arabs and Christians come together to meet each other. On the way back, we got a ride part way and then took a taxi. The taxi driver asked whether we were coming from Tel Aviv. I hesitated, then decided to tell him the truth, that we had been at a place in the West Bank where Jews and Arabs meet to talk. He asked me whether I thought there would be peace and I said, “Yes. I don’t think there is any other possibility. There must be peace.” The driver began to talk about how the Arabs hate us and are always trying to kill us. I listened to him but also reminded him that, though there are extremists on both sides, there are also many people who want to live together in peace. When we arrived at my apartment, he turned around and smiled at me and said, “I hope you are right. I hope there will be peace.”
Then he added, “I don’t hate them. They are our cousins.” He didn’t drive away but spoke about Isaac and Ishmael, and how Sarah was the one who wanted to send Hagar and Ishmael away but that Ha Kadosh Baruch Hu (God, the Holy Blessed One) did not want them to die and gave them water in the desert. By the end, the taxi driver and I were laughing together and parted with warm smiles and good wishes. “I know most Arabs also want peace,” he said. I really felt that he was glad to know that there are people meeting together in that wadi, people who are not willing to give up on the hope of understanding between our peoples.
I want to leave you with the words of a Rumi poem that was the last song of the concert:
“Out beyond ideas of wrong doing and right doing, there is a field; I’ll meet you there.”
I think it is important to know that there is a group of people meeting in a field outside of Jerusalem. In the midst of the violence in Gaza they continue to meet. And though it is the darkest time of the year, this group of people brings the light of fire and candles and a sweet, small ray of hope.
Much love,
Hannah Orden
Massachusetts, USA
