Passover, the religious holiday celebrating the liberation of the
Jewish people from slavery in the land of Egypt, is almost upon us.
While the holiday is certainly all about the food (and is one of my
favorites because of it), the story of Passover is particularly
relevant to our world today. Rejoicing in our freedom weaves graceful
notes of story, prayer, and toasts throughout my family's seder. But
this year, in particular, I will listen to the lessons of history and
liberation, and instead of only joy, I know I will also be embracing
conflict and hypocrisy.

For how can I truly proclaim to be free if the country created as a haven for my people is still
oppressing others? I don't know enough about the history of Israel and
Palestine to make a solid judgement about the Gaza and West Bank
occupation, nor do I know where to find objective research or teachers
to guide me in this rumination. However, in the limited study I've
allowed myself, I do see evidence of suffering because of the continued
conflict, and I know the Palestinians are humans trying (much like
Israeli's and people all over the world) to feed, clothe, and support
their children and grandchildren so their futures are better than their
histories. They are not all terrorists or murders or Jew haters. And
suffering, whether in Iraq, Israel, Palestine, Africa, Tibet, or
anywhere else cannot lead to peace; those causing the suffering cannot
consider themselves free;those supporting the violence cannot avoid
responsibility. I believe this with every fiber of my being.

So on this Passover, I'm conflicted. Very, very conflicted.

In
trying to make sense of my reflections, I've scoured the blogosphere to
read what other bloggers are writing. A few posts in particular
resonated. Donna Mills on MOMocrats
addressed the disequilibrium experienced by many Jewish Americans today
and the criticism encountered by those who question what is happening
in the Middle East:

Decades of war between Arabs and Jews, oil diplomacy, and a growing feeling
that supporting Israel may no longer be in our best interest are all making
Jewish Americans feel off-kilter...I hear this kind of thing from friends who
accuse NPR of being pro-Arab, because they air reports that are sympathetic to
Palestinians, as well as those that are told from the Israeli viewpoint. I call
that balance, but to a lot of Jewish people in this country, any criticism of
Israel is considered an attack.

I
was so grateful when this feed showed up on my Bloglines account today.
Up until this post (with the exception of a few conversations), I've
questioned in silence for this very reason. Much like dissenters or
pacifists were called unpatriotic after the United States' response to
the 9/11 attacks, I knew if I uttered my doubts about Israel's
occupation, I'd be called an anti-Zionist or a"bad Jew". My own doubt
weighs heavily enough; I am not sure I could withstand a verbal
assault. So I've remained silent. And as we all know (intended or not),
silence is acquiescence.

I'm not sure where this post - or rambling - will lead me. I'm exploring an organization called Jewish Voice for Peace. Their Mission Statement is as follows:

Jewish Voice for Peace is a diverse and democratic community of activists
inspired by Jewish tradition to work together for peace, social justice, and
human rights. We support the aspirations of Israelis and Palestinians for
security and self-determination.

We seek:

- A U.S. foreign policy based on promoting peace, democracy, human rights,
and respect for international law.

- An end to the Israeli occupation of the West Bank, the Gaza Strip, and East
Jerusalem.

- A resolution of the Palestinian refugee problem consistent with
international law and equity.

- An end to all violence against civilians.

- Peace among the peoples of the Middle East.

We are among the many American Jews who say to the U.S. and Israeli
governments: "Not in our names!"

I'm
leaning towards supporting this group, but I'm still hesitant and
haven't reconciled how it will affect my Jewish identity. How can my
social identity grow stronger with an alliance of this kind and my
religious identity weaken at the same time? Must one be at the expense
of the other?

So
battered just a bit after these questions, I continued reading blogs.
And in the middle of this great philosophical distraction of mine, I
found peace in the following entry.

On Blogher, Mata H eloquently touches on the essence of Passover and all religions, I think. She writes,

Passover
reminds us that we can't get through this life alone. One of the things
I admire most about Judaism is what seems to me ... as a
sense of connectedness, each Jewish person to each other Jewish person.
There is a lingering sense of tribe, a remnant of years wandering
together, depending on each other's help, surviving the worst of
persecutions together, sharing the best joys and the most agonizing of
griefs.

The depth of tribalism
is the sense that although we may differ, even dramatically, we are
bound up with each other in inescapable ways. You are part of me. I am
part of you. We are part of something greater.

We are part of something greater.

And
that something is different for every person. I see it as a web of
humanity; one broken strand weakens the entire structure. Suffering is
our world's broken strand today, and we must be willing to battle the
plethora of discomfort and instability that is mired in the process of
healing it. If we are unwilling to feel bad, sad, hurt, confused,
frustrated, or bitter we will never be able to evolve into hopeful.

To
all this Passover, I encourage reflection on our connectedness as human
beings. This Passover, we must not "pass over" our connection, our part
of something greater, or others' suffering.

 

Note: My apologies for the formatting errors; I cross-published on Notions of Identity today, and the formats aren't working together. Sorry!