Two Walls


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Middle East » Israel » West Bank
January 12th 2012
Published: February 1st 2012
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In Israel, there are two important walls situated a mere five kilometers from each other: one an ancient reminder of the Jewish struggle against those who would seek to destroy them; the other, its modern manifestation, a veritable monument to a problem. Confronted by either wall, you feel small. Next to the first, the presence of God humbles you. At the base of the second, the weight of the human struggle overwhelms you.

The Western, or Wailing Wall, is located on the western flank of the Temple Mount, the sole remnant of the Second Temple, which the Romans destroyed in AD 70, sending the Jews into exile. Returning from their banishment, the precise location of the Temple was forgotten and Jews avoided Temple Mount in fear that they would step upon the foundation stone, the Holy of Holies, barred to all of those except the highest priests. They began to pray at the wall instead. Today, it’s an open-air synagogue and the holiest of Jewish pilgrimage sites. Jews of all sects can be seen rocking back-and-forth on their heels as they pray at the wall, stopping occasionally to kiss the ancient stones, where it is believed that the Divine Presence still resides. Prayers are written on scraps of paper and stuffed between cracks in the wall, so as to facilitate their answer. It’s another one of those places where I wish I had faith.

Travel down the road to Bethlehem and there, standing eight-meters tall, you’ll see the Security Wall snaking its way along the circuitous Green Line that separates the Palestinian territory of the West Bank from Israel. It hugs Palestinian homes (literally becoming their front gate) to claim as much land as physically possible for Israel. It’s not my aim to make any political statement, or pass any judgment. Everyone involved in this story is human, each with his or her own tales of wrongdoings and loss. That being said, I will allow that I’m sympathetic to the Israeli cause – to their right to a homeland that has been denied them for thousands of years – even if I don’t agree with the measures necessary to realize it. I will accede that the Security Wall has reduced suicide bombings and saved who knows how many Israeli lives, but I will also say that there’s something deeply disturbing about it. There’s something about passing through its prison-like checkpoints that makes you feel guilty of a crime you haven’t committed; something about the barricade towering over your head that makes you feel like a caged animal. And there’s something about the graffiti covering its surface, imploring for its destruction that gets under your skin and makes it itch in a way that can’t be scratched.

After coming face to face with the Security Wall, I felt the enormity of the problem in the Middle East, much of which stems from the tumultuous Israeli-Palestinian relationship. It’s a problem that runs so deep that I have no chance of ever reaching the bottom of it; no way of connecting to the magnitude of the hostilities that have festered for decades. The wall made me feel ignorant and idealistic – and plagued by unanswerable questions. How can violence, no matter how noble the cause, be justified? Can’t we all just get along?

Ask anyone here if peace is possible, and the answer is no. They may have believed in it at some point, but now it has been given up as a lost cause. I’m unspeakably saddened by their hopelessness; saddened that there’s nothing I can do, or say, to change it. I’m saddened by a disagreement that has no solution, by the lives already lost to its fight, and by the lives yet to be taken. It seems unfair that I’ve lived my life in comfort and unawareness. I’ve never seen war or known hunger. As a child, I thought it was exciting to see fireworks. Here, I’ve met people whose childhood thrill was sneaking up to their roofs to watch gunfire between Israelis and Palestinians; people who sought shelter from earthquakes that turned out to be tanks rolling down their street. I can see how growing up in this world of violence could desensitize a person from the possibility of peace. I just don’t want to believe that it’s true.


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9th February 2012

This blog had an impact
It is funny how we take for granted all that we have. It is truly upsetting to see that not that far away people are treated like caged animals (which I disagree with too) not able to live in peace with the ability to have individual beliefs and not be punished for them.To agree to disagree. You make a difference Chantel your blogs reach people and touch them and no matter how big or small the change it is because of people like you that make our world a better place. You choose to see beauty where others see utter distruction. Keep making a difference my beautiful Hippy. Love the Tiffmonster :)

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