Getting Stopped by Border Police in Jerusalem

Hello, friends.

I have now been living here in Jerusalem for four weeks. One of my friends in Germany made the very astute comment back in August that this is going to be a big year for me--a year to grow, a year to learn, a year to maybe shift some of my perspectives, and maybe also to feel more solidly about others.

It is hard to believe how much has already happened in just four weeks--I could tell you about the incredibly thoughtful and passionate people I have met at my yeshiva (and they truly are), or about the controversy that came up the second week of classes (our school decided to take us all away for a weekend, but neglected to mention until just a few days before that we would be going to a settlement across the Green Line for this trip), or about any of the numerous vital interfaith/intercultural experiences I have already been privileged enough to have (praying with Christians, Jews, and Muslims on a roof! Crossing through a checkpoint alone!). But detailing everything that has happened in the past four weeks would take much too long.

Instead, I want to share one small incident that happened that ad an affect on me:

Two weeks ago, I was honored to be invited to a Israeli/Jewish-Palestinian type of "friendship" meeting. It is part of the Interfaith Encounter Association, a group that tries to build relationships between people of different religions on a grassroots level here in Israel and Palestine (you can read more about IEA here). So in different neighborhoods, people get together regularly to discuss various topics.

So this particular Thursday night, I went to an office in downtown Jerusalem. There, five of us Jews (some Israelis, some Americans) met with three Palestinian men. The topic of this particular meeting was Jewish fast days--so the others spent an hour explaining, in Hebrew (which they translated a bit for me), Yom Kippur and Tisha B'Av to these gentlemen--all of whom are residents of Israel. It was a simple meeting, but clearly part of an important trend of people sharing their stories, religions, and cultures with each other.

After the meeting, these gentlemen offered to walk me up the main shopping street to my bus. I got the sense they felt they wanted to walk me to my bus (less than a five-minute walk) to be gentlemen. We continued our conversations--using the English they know, they told me about their families, their jobs, all normal things.

All of a sudden, there were three uniformed Israelis around us; I've been told they were border police. One of the women (and I should note, these police are young people around my age--mid-twenties, if not younger) asked me if I knew the men. It was an interesting moment--I had to decide what to say; I said "yes." Even though I had just met these men an hour earlier, I had met them at a friendship meeting, where they had sat and listened to us explain Yom Kippur for an hour. It seemed right to say that I knew them. I told the young border policewoman this, even explaining that we had just come from a peace/friendship meeting.

While she seemed to accept this, one of the other policemen did not. He was very businesslike--"Stand over here," he said to me stiffly, indicating a spot away from the two men they were questioning heavily. I moved to the side, surprised to find myself so extremely frustrated, while they continued to question the young men. They even called in two of the men's ID numbers on walkie talkies during this. Even though I was fuming, I realized that getting involved would not help the situation at all.

When the border police finished their questioning and let us continue walking, I turned to the men and made an annoyed sound at what had happened. They explained that it happens to them regularly.

Now, I certainly understand the need for security. The past few weeks have seen a rise in Palestinian/Arab stabbings of people in downtown Jerusalem--believe me, I want everyone to be safe.
But none of this changes the fact that I felt sad for these men--sad that their whole lives living in this country they are faced with suspicion and fear, questioned regularly, having to be extra careful. Several people have likened it to the so-called "stop and frisk" policy in New York, during which African American and Latino people seem to be stopped more often than white people to be searched for weapons/contraband. They are under suspicion back at home, just as Arabs are under suspicion here in Jerusalem/Israel. We can point the finger of blame in countless directions for this police stop I was a part of here in Jerusalem (is it the fault of the Israeli government of today? the few Arab people who carry out stabbings? the fighters on both sides of the 1948 war? all or none of the above?), but in the end, it all just makes me so sad.

I hope I manage to find meaningful ways to engage with this and other interfaith/intercultural issues while I am here. During my year here I will be interning with an interfaith organization, and I have already been to a number of great events that show just how many people here in Jerusalem want to find ways to work towards peace, but I just hope that it is enough to have some kind of an impact. I am here to learn, but I am also here to make positive change. It should be an interesting year ahead!

Now go out and love one another.

<3,
Allyson