Growing up in the Old City of Jerusalem in the early 1950s was
some¬thing unique. This was especially so because I was a
child to a Palestinian Christian family who had become refugees as
a result of the 1948 Arab¬-Israeli war and the creation of the
State of Israel. As a five-year old, I had no idea about the Jews
or what had happened in Palestine. Nor did I real¬ize the
extent of suffering my parents had gone through as they found their
way from Qatamon, in West Jerusalem, to Lebanon and eventually to
Bethlehem and the Old City of Jerusalem.
My knowledge and appreciation of the Jews and, in fact, Jewish
history came from the lessons of Christian Catechism. The Christian
Brothers who taught us Catechism were quite objective and, on
reflection, some of them felt various degrees of empathy with the
Jews. The experi¬ence of the Hebrews in Egypt was clearly
projected as the conflict between good and evil. The manner in
which the Jews were treated in Egypt justi¬fied, in my mind at
least, all the ills and punishments meted out against the Egyptians
by Yahweh. I identified with the Hebrews as they roamed the
wilderness for 40 years and even felt some disappointment that
Moses could not enter the Holy Land.
But this identification was primarily religious. It did not pose a
prob¬lem for me and I did not see a need to revoke or reject
it as I grew to under¬stand what had happened between Arabs
and Jews in Palestine. In a sense, the religious link between
myself, as a Christian Palestinian, and the Hebrews of the Old
Testament was a link that superseded mundane con¬flicts of
whatever nature or cause. I grew, therefore, to appreciate the New
Testament as the culmination of a natural historical, religious and
doctri¬nal process which started with the Old Testament.
Certainly, there was a break between the Old and New Testaments,
symbolized by Jesus Christ, his death and resurrection. Yet, I
never felt I had a problem with the Jews because they had not
accepted Christ.
Perceptions and Reactions
My problem with the Jews was with the experimental dimension of my
parents, my teachers and others who had passed through the trauma
of 1948 and exile from their country. Here I started to develop a
sense of injus¬tice experienced by these people as a result of
Jewish designs in Palestine. Fortunately, this sense of injustice,
together with a sense of indignation at what had happened to
Palestinians in 1948, was not accompanied by expressions of
anti-Jewish sentiments by either of my parents. But I could tell
that as my parents sat to drink their morning coffee, they spoke
about dreams that had disappeared together with the life that they
had hoped for themselves and their children. For many mornings
spanning the years, they mourned for the loss of their home, their
dreams and their country.
I shared their mourning and I grew to identify strongly with their
sentiments. Seeing my parents weak, hurting and wounded made me
anti¬-Israeli. I couldn't care less what Arab leaders were
saying about Israel. It was to my parents' and teachers' narrative
that I listened intently.
One thing which struck me in particular was my father's
anti-Western reaction to what happened in 1948. I understand now
that his reaction was common among Christian Palestinians who had
reacted strongly, not against the Jews, but against the West. One
explanation is that they had expected the West, the Christian West,
to take a position in keeping with Christian values and principles,
which meant standing by Palestinians instead of by Jews.
Now, not many of my parents' generation were aware of the extent of
horror that was being perpetrated by "Christian" Europeans against
the Jews. Nor were they aware of the rather strong anti-Jewish
currents or ten¬dencies among certain strata of American
society and even government circles. Their expectations of the West
were simply based on their shared Christian background.
The other angle to this anti-Western outlook of my parents'
generation lies in the fact that the Jews were perceived as too
weak to have been able to accomplish, by themselves, what they did
in 1948. Attributing weakness to the Jews may have lessened, or
minimized, anti-Jewish sentiments in my parents. In fact, I have
never heard either of them pronounce anti¬Jewish statements,
even when they were facing difficulties in life as a result of
their flight in 1948.
But to turn to an important question today and now: How do I, as a
Christian and a Palestinian, deal with or relate to Israelis and
Jews, given the history of both conflict and peace between our two
peoples? Were I to be faithful to the teachings of my religion,
then I have to strive to understand and accept the Jews as they
are. Moreover - and this is the most painful part - I have to
forgive them all the pain and suffer¬ing they have inflicted
on my parents, on myself and on other Palestinians. The other part
of this forgiveness is to ask them to forgive me and Palestinians
for any pain or suffering we have inflicted on them. This is the
heart of the Christian message - complete and unconditional
forgiveness. I know, in all honesty, that I have not reached this
stage and that I am not a Christian, in light of this Christian
principle of forgiveness.
For although forgiveness is liberating and generates new
possibilities, like justice, fairness and equality, its
attractiveness is counterbalanced by injustice and the continued
suffering of the Palestinian people. In spite of the peace process,
such injustice and suffering continue to plague all Palestinians.
Closure of the territories have adversely affected thousands of
families, as breadwinners are denied access to their jobs; issues
such as a just solution to the refugee problem; the question of
Jerusalem and the need to satisfy the religious and national
aspirations of all inhabitants of the city remain unaddressed.
There is also a significant percentage of Israelis who refuse to
acknowledge the injustice they have done to Palestinians. Indeed,
settlers in West Bank and Gaza Strip settlements, and Jewish
religious functionaries operating in East Jerusalem, see their
presence there as a fulfillment of religious teachings and
directives. As such, there can be no common ground between
Palestinians and them.
Our Responsibility
I do not profess to be a theologian, but as a Christian, and a
nominal one at that, I see that monotheistic religions have failed
all of us: Jews, Christians and Muslims, in helping to unravel and
resolve the conflict that has devoured us in the last hundred years
or so. The followers of each of the three great monotheistic
religions have become so self-encapsulated that other religions,
cultures, societies are made irrelevant and insignifi¬cant.
The basis for dialogue, trialogue and for bridging differences and
gaps is made impossible as the truth, the sole truth, is seen to
lie in one specific religion to the exclusion of all others.
Clearly then, a gap exists between religious teachings and our
interpre¬tation of them, and the realities surrounding the
Palestinian-Israeli conflict and peace-making. This gap constitutes
a crisis quite difficult to overcome. The essence of the problem
and conflict between us and Israelis is basically a national one
and should be solved within this context. The failure to do so,
however, remains on the religious level, though a just and lasting
polit¬ical solution does not necessarily contradict the
teachings of all three monotheistic religions. To me, as a
Palestinian, the key words are justice, equality and willingness to
be magnanimous towards each other, our neighbors and enemies of
yesterday.
We are now in the process of peace-making. My generation has been
affected by the wounds and pains of our parents' generation. We
have car¬ried their wounds and pains within us as we grew up.
I have attempted, as a father, not to pass on to my children any of
the personal wounds and pains emanating from the conflict with
Israel. This is very difficult, espe¬cially so since we all
continue to live in an environment of roadblocks, searches for
illegal transients from the West Bank or Gaza, bombings,
con¬frontations and other indicators of continued conflict.
This, however, does not mean that the vicious cycle of hatred and
mistrust should not be bro¬ken. Nor does it mean that
Palestinian or Israeli parents should not teach their children the
meaning of justice and openness to others. We are nei¬ther
angels, nor are we idealists; we are people who are trying to make
sense out of a situation that appears, at times, senseless and
tragic.
These are difficult times for Palestinians and Israelis alike. The
challenge facing us is not an easy one and demands not only energy
or goodwill but great sacrifices of a magnitude that many of us are
not prepared to under¬take. Can we, if we ourselves cannot do
it, at least prepare our children to do so? The choice is clearly
to go forward, and the responsibility lies on our shoulders, we,
the generation of parents in the 1990s, to encourage our
chil¬dren to prepare and work together for a future that is
just and peaceful, irre¬spective of religious, cultural or
national backgrounds.
This article was presented at the" Palestinians and Israelis:
Educating about Each Other in the Era of Peace" seminar,
cosponsored by the Konrad Adenaur Foundation, the Interreligious
Coordinating Council in Israel (ICCI) and the Palestinian Peace
Information Center, December 7-8, 1995, Notre Dame Center,
Jerusalem.