Rebellious Thoughts of a Woman

It’s not that I expected everyone in the “Antisemitism, Islamophobia, and Christian Nationalism” group at the multi-faith potluck to agree with me, but I didn’t expect to be confronted with an antisemite and a keffiyeh-wearer whose presence were—now I get the term—triggering!

Where’s my silo?!

A friend, who lives in Israel and is 19 months into living in a war zone, suggested that I leave the group, that sometimes there really is too much for a person to handle.

A friend in New York suggested that IF I stay in the group, I would need to develop a thicker skin. She also commented that perhaps I was put there by HaShem (The Name, G!d) for a purpose.

A third, very new, friend, who was there, tried to convince me that the way forward is to have a Muslim speaker at the next event. That was too much. I’ve read and learned enough to know that appeasement and ceding to the other is not the way forward. Why step aside and give the stage to someone who doesn’t respect you? Why not have them hear Jews speak or have a conversation as is the stated intention at a dialogue group? While they were at this meeting and in this group (at a different table from me), which is positive, their very aggressive stance (why wear the keffiyeh?; why say “Zionism is the problem”) I did not feel that I need to be gracious, but rather that I need to graciously take a stand.

To listen and be heard. To learn and understand. To share and connect. To not be strange strangers. To me these are the goals of interfaith dialogue. I wonder if I can do it now.

*****

After we moved to the States from Israel in 2000, I tried to establish a dialogue group with a Palestinian woman. We didn’t get anywhere, beyond the not inconsequential realization that our ex-husbands, my Israeli and her Palestinian, were very similar in the ways they were verbally abusive and aggressive, and we were similar in having pushed against convention and the “he’s a good provider” thoughts to divorce them.

Before Covid, I was a member of a local chapter of the Sisterhood of Salaam-Shalom, a group for building connections between Jewish and Muslim women. We had been meeting for about a year, becoming friends, uncovering similarities and differences between our religions (and sometimes learning more about our own religions) and the home countries of most of the Muslim women, and, of course, eating delicious foods. We were just starting to think about what to do for the betterment of our community when Covid put an end to everything, and then I moved.

Through that experience, though, I saw the value in going out of my way to meet people I wouldn’t normally meet, to work on correcting inaccuracies in how I and my people are perceived, and in how I perceive others. It’s not necessarily that knowledge is power, it’s that knowledge may lead to compassion.

*****

Now that I’m a retired, middle-aged woman who has never done any moving and shaking, what is it that will not let me rest (or nap), will not let me accept my past ineffectiveness? What am I looking for in these groups? What do I want to happen?

I wonder if I should accept that the talking—the exchange of experiences and time spent together—is the essence? Should I stop diminishing in importance what I do because it’s not what I deem to be important work (that others are doing—stop the comparing!)?

In our small group conversations at the multi-faith meeting, I talked to a woman who is Baha’i, who extolled her religion and its basic tenet of acceptance, and a Christian woman who talked about her work in El Salvador helping physically improve lives. I spoke of the negative way Islam views Jews and how harmful it has been—is. We each shared our hearts, using this opportunity to say what moved us, things that we don’t get to share in our everyday interactions.

*****

At last night’s potluck, there was a speaker from Our Children’s Trust which “represents young people in global legal efforts to secure their binding and enforceable legal rights to a healthy atmosphere and stable climate.” After that, we got into small groups and talked about our faith traditions’ teachings on the environment. We all care. We all see ourselves as stewards of the earth, whatever being or entity breathed it into being. That connection felt like a strengthening: we are not alone in caring and wanting to protect the earth.

After that the “Antisemitism and Islamophobia” group got together to talk about when to meet again. Walking out of the meeting, I was deflated (and not just because hardly anyone took my pasta dish), until I saw my friend who is trying to keep the group together. Her insistence that I need to care about Islamophobia may be correct, but at this moment, I can’t take it on as my concern. When antisemitism and anti-Zionism are so immediate, critical, dangerous, resurgent, and when Israel is attacked and Judaism maligned, I want to stay focused. So while this group may offer some worthwhile interactions, it will not replace the work I need to do.

On my way home, I passed a pickup truck with a Palestinian flag and a life-size replica of a missile in its truck bed. Doesn’t seem like Islamophobia is the problem.

It is Day 576: there are still hostages suffering in Gaza. We are each our brother's keeper. I'm focusing on my hurting family first.