Conservative Currents: Love the stranger

The commandment to "therefore love the stranger for you were strangers in the land of Egypt" (Deuteronomy 10:19) has particular relevance to recent events in the Druse village of Peki'in and how we might view them.

In order to explain what I mean, allow me to begin with a couple of personal memories.

My first visit to the Druse village of Peki'in occurred when I was about eleven years old. I was on a Bnei Akiva trip and the tour guide had one point of importance to make about the village: that there had been a continuous Jewish settlement in the village for almost two thousand years, ever since the Bar-Kochva period. One of the experiences that I guess many visitors never forget is eating one of Raya's paper-thin Druze pita with labbaneh. Many religious visitors stop there, because Raya, an elderly Druse woman, had a special connection with Margalit Zinati who insured that the preparation of the pita was done under supervision of the "Jew of Peki'in". I remember Raya instructing me to join her in stirring the fire, so there would be no doubt of "Pat Akum" (bread baked by a gentile).

On a second group visit to Peki'in a few years later I recall that the focal point of the visit was visiting "Old Grandma Jamilla" who was famous for her hand-made olive oil soaps, reputed to be of medicinal value. The whole group demanded that we stop and shop there, and I'm afraid that's about all I remember from that visit (well, that and the inevitable Raya's pita).
 
And why have these particular memories recently surfaced in my mind? The recent violent events at Peki'in made me view those memories in a different light, as I tried to understand what exactly happened in this usually peaceful village. Why, when the police arrived to arrest a bunch of law-breakers, did a large group of village men gather to prevent them from doing so? Is this about supporting a criminal or endorsing violent behavior? I don't think so. I believe the reasons for what took place are deeper and more upsetting.

When I was a Fellow at the Mandel Leadership Institute, we once spent two days at the Druse village of Yarka, learning about the town. Yarka, as of two years ago, had several problems, one of the more serious ones being the shortage of public spaces and lack of proper garbage disposal; the streets were badly littered and the garbage dump was situated within the town itself causing the terrible smell to disturb and harm the village children, whose school was located right above the dump. When we tried to delve into the reason for this lack of public spaces, we discovered that in fact the designated public areas of the village had been exploited by several families who illegally built private houses. When the police arrived in Yarka to tear down these houses, the local population resisted so vehemently that the police gave up for the sake of maintaining the peace. We also learned that the percentage of tax-payers in the town is so low that the water supply to the village is periodically cut off by the water company. Why would the basic social contract by which people make agreements in order to create a safer and better environment clash so blatantly with the behavior of people in Yarka and probably in Peki'in as well?

It seems to me that the reason for this is the recurrent experience of disappointment and frustration which the residents have with the Jews they come in contact with. They feel that their attempts to cooperate with the authorities have led them nowhere and that the Jews minister to their own interests while neglecting those of the Druse. My own memories of Peki'in brought this home to me: Many of us Jewish visitors comes to Yarka and Peki'in as consumers. We are not interested in the place itself, its local history, people or surroundings, but rather in the question, 'What's in it for us?' The Druse villager thus becomes a service provider rather than a partner. In Yarka, Jews flock to the large shopping center at the entrance to the village. They don't even need to see the village houses in order to do their shopping and even if they do see them, I doubt they pay them much attention. They're too busy finding good merchandise, sometimes of the "authentic" variety, other times of the "cheap substitute" kind. The Druse are nothing but instrumental salespeople to them, with whom vociferous and slightly aggressive bargaining is held.

In Peki'in, this experience is enhanced by the fact that we Jews come not only to shop, but also to strengthen our feeling of ownership over the land of Israel by perpetuating the story of the "continuous Jewish settlement in Peki'in". Again, the local Druse residents are largely ignored. This sort of repeated encounter, alongside the longstanding and perhaps even purposeful neglect of the village by the authorities, focuses the residents' experience on the alienation they feel towards the Jews and their government. Perhaps it is for this reason that they chose the path of defending a number of their group against the authorities even at the price of shielding criminals. Lest I be misunderstood, allow me to clarify that I do not for a moment endorse their violent behavior, but I do think we have something to do with its sources.

The occurrence at Peki'in can be juxtaposed with that same week's Torah portion, which tells about Abraham. Abraham puts time and effort into his conversation with Ephron the Hitite. He makes a concerted effort to figure out what it is that Ephron really wants in order to feel comfortable with Abraham's settling among his people. He understands that living together on the same piece of land cannot be a life where one side is a service provider and the other is a consumer, but rather a life of partnership and sensitivity to each other.

As a Masorti (Conservative) Rabbi in Israel, I feel obligated to be part of this dialogue – to help create a framework which will enable the acquaintance between the sides to be authentic rather than artificial. When there is no water in Yarka, we should feel a pinch in our hearts just as if there were no water in Tel Aviv, and the number of non-Jewish people living below the poverty line should concern us just as much as the number of Jewish poor does. The change will be apparent on the day that our television teams photograph the empty fridges in the Arab villages or among the Haredim, and not only among those who are similar to them.  The Torah was very wise in stressing how important it is to care for the strangers in our midst. We all tend to associate minorities and foreigners with 'strangers' and feel a natural alienation from them. The commandment to love the stranger is more than a law ensuring the stranger's basic rights, or an edict to lend him a hand in times of trouble. Love means intimacy, and intimacy cannot be achieved without communication, which means really taking the time and effort to know each other.

The next time I visit Peki'in, I hope I'll take the time to tour Druse as well as Jewish sites, and attempt to make conversation with the people of the village. I don't expect it to be natural or easy, because walls of alienation are never simple to break down, and reaching out to angry people means realizing that you might get your hand slapped at first, but I think the effort will be well worth it for both sides.