A Visit to the Palestinian village of Meiser near the Kibbutz Metzer

An Israeli Kibbutz and a Palestinian Arab Village:  Drinking from the Same Well

By Bill Plitt as told to him by Dov Avital and Badea Rakia

© November 2013

Imagine a setting where members of an Israeli Kibbutz and the villagers from a neighboring Palestinian Arab community share water from a common well and participate together in sporting events.  You might think it was a pipedream of some naive, romantic activist with hopes for the future of the State of Israel/Palestine and not the reality of an ongoing relationship that has existed for 60 years.

This current state of co-existence officially began in 1953 when 120 Argentinean émigrés settled into the socialist Kibbutz Metzer adjacent to the historic Palestinian Arab village of Meiser, located in central Israel.  Their shared narrative may be unraveling after so many years, however, because of the policies of the Israeli governing authorities that wish to exclude the Palestinians from their Jewish State.  This is a tragedy in the making, and it is leading to a lost opportunity to build bridges of understanding instead of erecting walls of fear.

***

“Do not seek revenge or bear a grudge against anyone among your people, but love your neighbor as yourself.  I am the LORD.”  Leviticus 19:18

“And you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind, and with all your strength.³¹  The second is this, 'You shall love your neighbor as yourself.  There is no other commandment greater than these.’³²”  Mark 12:31-32

***

In 2009, I wrote an article about the relationship between the people of the village Meiser and the Kibbutz Metzer that was severely tested in November 2002 when a person from the outside murdered five people in the kibbutz, including a mother and two young children.  It was difficult to comprehend, but that relationship survived even after that crisis; the strength of years of peaceful co-existence and relationships based on common trust bore the weight of the tragedy and transformed it into a common experience of grief and sorrow.  However, I had really only heard one side of the story at the time of my visit – the side of those living in the kibbutz.  What was the Arab view of the events leading up to and then beyond this crisis?  Was it compatible with the one I heard from the kibbutz side of things?  What was it like to live in a relatively peaceful co-existent relationship with one another?  

I have made six annual pilgrimages to Israel/Palestine since 2008.  On two separate occasions, I visited with Dov Avital, the former Chairman of the kibbutz.  Having heard the story from his perspective as the leader of the kibbutz, I wanted to hear how the Palestinian leaders, who are all Israeli citizens, viewed this relationship of so many decades.  When I asked about this option, Dov said, “Not a problem.  They would love to meet with you.”  This was the moment I had been anticipating.

My latest trip to Israel/Palestine took place in November 2013.  It was time to meet with the “other side,” so the day before my return to the States, I was driven by a friend from the Israeli city of Haifa to the City of Binjamina where I met Dov and shared a beautifully served middle-eastern lunch in a restaurant frequented by both Jewish and Palestinian citizens of Israel.  Dov provided some additional background for the afternoon conversation and defined the informal nature of the gathering.  We then drove to the village of Meiser, located just north of the kibbutz, to meet with members of the village at the home of Badea Rakia, the former Chairman of the village Council.  He met us at the door of his home with a warm welcome, as though we were all old friends, for the purpose of telling the Arab side of the story.

In the Rakia living room, Badia had prepared a wonderful spread of pastries, fruit and, of course, a pot of hot, strong Arab coffee; we were provided with a very comfortable atmosphere for friendly conversation.  Other invited members of the village never appeared, however; it was just the three of us, which turned out to be more intimate and more revealing than it might have been with additional guests.

As the afternoon sped past, what was supposed to be an hour interview continued on into three hours packed full of fresh, new accounts (for me, anyway) of an earlier time.  It was a story not only about the six decades since the establishment of the Kibbutz Metzer in 1953, but it was also a story that had its beginning long before this particular relationship had officially begun.  What was already present was not only the traditional Arab cultural legacy in the region which called for the welcoming of strangers, but it was also a shared history of prior relationships with Jews in the nearby Kibbutz  Maanit before the arrival of the Metzer Kibbutzniks.  Hospitality already served as the foundation for this relationship – an interdependent relationship which was soon confirmed on both sides by this conversation between these two old friends.  It was real and enduring, with deep roots, not shallow ones, and they and their predecessors had established trust as a foundation for this unique situation.

Since 1953, the story of the village had now become intertwined with the story of the new kibbutz as events began to take place over time.  The conversation between the two men, whose family members had known each other through all of those intervening years, flowed effortlessly and respectfully.  I learned about the seeds of a co-existent relationship which seemed more like interdependence and not one of occupier and occupied, which had been my fear.  The nurturing ingredients had already been sown for how these two opposing societies might continue to grow as a single entity from the very beginning and through the decades since 1953.

Badea Rakia of the Village Meiser and Dov Avital of the Kibbutz Metzer

Each man shared many stories, one after another, illustrating neighborly practices that endure to this day.  It was like peeling away layer after layer of an onion and always finding nothing more than the rest of the onion – nothing hidden – nothing false.  I have tried to capture a few of these anecdotes that span 60 years to share with you so you can better understand this fairly unique relationship, layer by layer.

For years prior to 1948, when there was a need, farmers of Kibbutz Maanit and Meiser loaned each other tools and returned them without question when tasks were completed.  Such basic practices were the norm between the two peoples sharing their lands, even then.

In 1948, the Israeli forces removed Palestinians from their villages throughout the region (known by the Palestinians as the Nakba), destroyed some 500 villages and displaced 750,000 villagers.  The inhabitants of Meiser were allowed to return shortly afterwards, which was not the common practice.  And even more rarely, the returning Arabs were offered Israeli citizenship and allowed to retain their land.  Suspicion, however, did reign in such villages as Israeli authorities often offered rewards to Palestinians who provided information about the actions of their own neighbors.  These Palestinian collaborators were more of a threat from within than from the members of the Kibbutz Maanit, however, because “loving thy neighbor” was a shared belief.

In 1953, when Kibbutz Metzer was established by Argentinean émigrés next to the already-established village of Meiser, there was a climate of trust between the Jews and the Arabs of the region because of their previously shared history and enduring cultural practices.  When the young socialists of the Kibbutz needed a water source, the Arabs shared their small well.  That shared water resource is still viable between the two even today, strengthening their mutual interdependence with one another.

Badea knew Dov’s in-laws well when the Kibbutz Metzer was established near the village Meiser.  Badea told about a time when Dov’s father-in-law drove a tractor around the kibbutz pulling a flatbed trailer loaded with vegetables and fruits, offering rides to young villagers.  At the same time (shortly after the Nakba), food was rationed amongst the Arabs; only small allotments were provided by the Israeli government for them.  One time, during that period, Badea remembers being caught (along with some others) taking some of the produce off the trailer and taking it home.  Word got back to the Israeli farmer, but instead of extracting punishment or retribution, the boys were forgiven, as the reason for “stealing” the food was judged not to be out of mischief or thought of the destruction of property, but out of hunger and need.  Another layer of the onion skin was safely peeled away, with many more layers in reserve.

Another time, Badea, a career bus driver for EGGED (the Israeli Bus Transportation Company), was driving his bus home at the end of his work day.  On his way, he passed an Israeli soldier from the kibbutz about to sleep along the roadside.  He was away from base when he shouldn’t have been, a serious breach of military discipline at the time, and if discovered would have been in trouble.  Badea stopped his bus and offered him a ride to the soldier’s home in the kibbutz; in the morning, he picked him up early and returned him to his base before anybody knew that he was absent.

The nearest bus station was about 3 km from the village.  Bus drivers often gave rides to people from the village and the kibbutz found walking along the highway.  People from the kibbutz returned the favor.  As in the Christian and Judaic traditions, Islam also teaches its followers to love your neighbor.

***

“Act kindly just as God has treated you kindly.”  Chapter 28: Verse 77

Saying of Prophet Muhammad – “Love for people what you love for yourself, you will be faithful.”

***

Earlier this year, the council of the kibbutz offered a piece of land of about 15 acres to the village for the purpose of building a soccer field.  The Israeli authorities refused to support such a project, however, and wouldn’t allow the transfer of property even though the kibbutz was willing to designate this as a gift to the village, free of taxes, free of cost.  There is still hope of a successful transfer of land, however, as both Badea and Dov believe that once they overcome the authorities' opposition, this soccer field would become much more than just a mutual playground; it would be a symbol of what goodwill neighbors can build together for the well-being of their youth, perpetuating the tradition of cooperation and friendship between the two communities.  This would be an incredible, solid token of what could be achieved through ongoing cooperation with one another rather than the continuation of confrontation as now occurs throughout the country.

As the afternoon sun began to fade, the three of us climbed into Dov’s car, and we drove by the original well and the new one that had been built beside it; these two wells continue to link the two communities far below the surface of their physical and human co-existence. 

file://localhost/Users/williamplitt/Desktop/DSC09026.JPG

Badea and Dov - Drawing from the Common Well

We also drove by the land that was planned for the future soccer field, lying fallow for now.  Badea noted with some frustration that there was a critical need for building homes for people of the burgeoning Palestinian village and pointed to his own family’s nearby piece of land.  This land was now wooded and not available for sale because of the government policy which established the plot as State Land.  Dov concurred, again, with the frustration his neighbor and friend was expressing.

After hearing more stories than I can relate here, it seemed to me that the fertile ingredients for re-creating a long-ago, time-honored way of living on the land are all present in the ongoing situation between the people of Meiser and Kibbutz Metzer; this relationship can be replicated.

If people were allowed to decide what should be done in the best interests of all the people, not just some of the people, a just peace might become a reality on the ground sooner rather than later.  When the people of Israel and Palestine insist that the governments stop creating policies that are selfishly motivated and that reflect little interest in fostering good neighbors based on love and shared commonality, there is a chance that everyone can win.  Fear of “the other” can be replaced by mutual trust and respect, and people need to acknowledge that in order for all to survive, cooperation must be the way forward.  It may be that the people of the Kibbutz Metzer and those of the village Meiser have something to teach us all.  Are we willing to learn from them?  Even in the West Bank, where memories are fading because of “walls, lines, fences and borders,” we must all come to understand that we all drink from the same well.

***

Arabic writer, Hassan Ben Senan told the story about his neighbor whose goat used to walk into his house. He often said to his sons:

“Don’t kick away my neighbor’s goat; let her take what she needs.”

***

Bill Plitt wrote an article about Metzer/Meiser which appeared in The Christian Century (July 28, 2009).  He first traveled to Israel/Palestine in 2006 with the Interfaith Peacebuilders (IFPB) organization and learned about another narrative rarely shared in the U.S.  This side of the story was about the need for a just peace in the land that would allow both peoples to keep their own personal identity and dignity.  He and some colleagues co-founded Friends of Tent of Nations North America (FOTONNA), an organization that supports the Tent of Nations (TON) peace project established by the Nassar family on their farm located southwest of Bethlehem.

Bill is also an elder in the Presbyterian Church and presently serves as Vice-Moderator for the Israel/Palestine Mission Network (PCUSA).   He is an educator, writer, poet and musician, and he shares his experiences and stories with audiences across the U.S. through his travels with Daoud Nassar, a Palestinian Christian farmer (co-founder of TON), and through his own writing.

The Puppeteer

The following words came to me on plane ride from Washington, D.C to Atlanta with my friend Daoud.  We were on the way to speak at Emory University and two other sites in the area.  I have been struggling for a few years now with how to capture the Israeli authorities control over the lives of Palestinians living in the West Bank. Nearly every phase, every movement of their lives  are limited by some unknown entity.  Jeff Halper of ICAID called it the "matrix of control".

The Puppeteer

-by Bill Plitt-©11/13

Both hands tied by strings on one end

and attached tightly to figures far below

in distant places, unknown faces.

The Puppeteer controls the movements,

the conversations, and traces of human life

in all its phases.

A little twitch there/here,

the body below moves one step forward,

two steps backward,

all in irregular rhythm,

Unknown, unpredictable, unrelenting.

The walk to the school, the farm, the family;

the job slowed, stopped, mired;

the wounded traveler thwarted by the strings

attached to the head, the arms, the lips, the legs,

stands at the mercy of The Puppeteer -

Not seen, not heard, not human.

How much less water, electricity, food withheld

before the suspended can move no more than just enough,

never entirely free of the strings attached

to the fingers, hands and knees.

Inhumane, unmerciful, unloving, unkind.

And the children, otherwise amused by puppets

performing their stories of moral goodness,

fall prey to the phantom manipulations

as their lives unfold in acceptable order -

Not spontaneous, not free, not hopeful.

A little twitch there/here,

the body below moves one step forward,

two steps backward,

all in irregular rhythm,

How long, oh Puppeteer, can you control

the hearts, minds, and bodies of those innocent souls

who pay double for their water, 

move only when permitted, and

build only for it to be demolished?

The answer, of course, is known by a few

who rise up in anger, call out in rage, too,

and demand to be free –

all children of God who, deep down, seek harmony.

SAYING GOODBYE TO GOOD FRIENDS, MEMORABLE PLACES, ACTS OF REMARKABLE COURAGE

I left Jerusalem this afternoon for Haifa where I am staying with Fakhira's family,  It is time like these when I wish I knew more Arabic.   The conference ended on a high note with some distinguished speakers from  U.S, UK and Europe, all with powerful messages on either biblical interpretation, international law, or the impact of Sabeel on the world.  We began the morning with a beautiful service at the Lutheran Church  of Mt. of OLives, and then to Jericho and the a gathering by the Jordan river, to reconsider our own baptisms, and then to Sabeel  celebrations for their 25th  anniversary.  A highlight was the children's choir from Ramallah and a string quartet of master musicians. 

We then returned to Jerusalem for another amazing meal, of which I passed, and the final evening\program.

My overall high's were:  the worship experiences, the faces of the young musicians , and the time at TENT IF NATION with friends who were attending for the first time. The conversation in the village of Maiser with the former head of the council, and the Secretary of the Kibbutz Metzer with regards to their reported co-existence as neighbors was also a highlight. More in that through a draft article that I'll attach.

I did begin to feel the effects of several weeks of continuous travel, and the physical demands of such a trip and wonder if this might not be last visit to Palestine.

There was also a lot of opportunities to talk about FOTONNA< TON<>IPMN and the work of the church with folks.

Stories to develop are: time with Daoud on the land and the excitement of those who heard/saw and wanted to bring us to speak to their communities in the States; visits with friends/families,  promotion of the letter to the Hague's International Court, a variation of the "Puppeteer" with stories of the impending doom, and the report on the kibbutz.  BP

CALLING IT APARTHEID AT LEAST, ETHNIC-CLEANSING...

After hearing Mustafa Bargouti last night and his powerful presentation, I felt enraged towards the Israeli authorities for the level of control and violence they use to keep the "peace".  It left me devastated and angry.  The graphic nature of the presentation and the precision of the information left no doubt of the evil intent of the authorities to ethnic cleanse what is left of the OPT.  Unlike Daoud's presentation which always about hope, while Bargouti did indicate his continued dedication to non-violent resistance, and BDS in particular, Daoud's presentation encouraged me.  I left last night feeling no hope in our ability to change the balance of power which seems to be the obstacle for a solution.

The choice I have now is either to retreat or continue to narrow what I can do.  I might even drop the idea of visiting the kibbutz, and going to the Negev, and return to Bethlehem and TON.   I already know about the horrible plight of the Bedouins and the possibility of the Kibbutz/village being about normalization rather than true co-existance.

IMPRESSIONS OF HOPE AND CHANGE IN THE LAND

I arrived tired but safely to my hotel after a long flight of 11 hours, and shuttle
to Jerusalem,  public bus with back back to Bethlehem, a hike to the hotel up the
hill, and then down to Manger Square and the Nassar family reception in their home nearby, and returning to my hotel room thoughtfully provided for me by friends there.  Now, the bodily and cultural adjustments that are inevitable.

Spending time with the Nassar family on Friday, by going to many of their music rehearsals during their day off on Fridays was a pleasure.  They are such a talented trio.  I like witnessing their growth and musical skills and appreciation.  Daoud returns today, and I'll give them some space before joining them at a piano concert that Shadin will offer this evening. 

My impressions of the Bethlehem are that they continue to normalize the occupation in their life here,almost a given these days.  I hear the peace delegation from Palestine walked out on the talks.  I think that is for the better as they will surely lose more in any kind of settlement, for that is the Israeli/US
way.  Life as an occupied people is a better alternative, as the Israelis are required to "care for them'.  NOW THAT they have access to the International court, they should demand that the Israelis truly take care of them by
providing them with the human rights they are owed.

I am looking forward to the next few days, particularly in teaching a class on conflict resolution with the women of the village, along with Jihan on Monday.B

"Building Bridges of Love and Understanding"

Good morning!  Daoud Nassar, director of the Tent of Nations Project, arrived on Sunday for his 12th U.S Tour.  He left yesterday, October 21st, for Cincinnati where he will begin with a bible study with friends there, and visit a local high school before joining me in Detroit at the Israael/Palestine Mission Network meeting.  Then, he will be on to Hartford, CT with Tree of Life churches before heading to Atlanta and Americus, Georgia where he will embrace a shared experience with the farmers of Koinonia.  Early in November we will travel to N.W Ohio once again to meet  with farmers and students of that region who have supported the Tent of Nations program vigorously in the past. He will then return to the Washington, D.C area with meetings with State Department officials, local University Peace and Justice programs, and presentations in Virginia to several church communities before heading home on November 14 where he and I will join together in Bethlehem.

Once again I feel called to travel to the region where there is so much darkness these days but
where there is also light.  It is in the darkness that I find light, a shining light of hope
and a path where Jesus once walked in a different time, and still does today.

“We Refuse to be Enemies”

On his  U.S Tour in June of 2013, Daoud preached a sermon on John 14: 16-19 & 27

on three different occasions.  Many were moved by his message of refusing to be enemies even in the face of danger.  Some thought it was not quite enough.

A member of the planning committee for a church where Daoud preached, saw me on the street the day after,  and chased me for a block to say, “Daoud’s sermon was wonderful, but he had a chance to “hit it out of the park and missed it”, she said nearly out of breath and a little disappointed.

After a moment or so of listening to her words and identifying her concern, I concluded that maybe the “high” I was personally feeling from the experience the day before, was misguided. I began to feel somewhat discouraged by her assessment, and apparently, that of other members of her committee who had hoped to change the hearts and minds of the congregation with Daoud’s words and stories of injustice.  What she wanted him to share were several stories about how the Israeli imposes great restrictions on his human rights of life, liberty and happiness.  For she had traveled recently herself to the “holy land”  and was outraged as all of us are when we see for the first time, what life is like for the Israelis and Palestinians (I/P).  

As she prepared to leave me with her final thoughts, as I had only listened at that point, I said somewhat defensively, “But that is not Daoud’s way.  He doesn’t play the victim role, and for him to share the many stories he could tell,  he stood the risk of being inconsistent with his message of “refusing to be enemies”.   I left it there with her, however, she clearly wasn’t persuaded. I walked away a little unsatisfied myself.  I had also crossed a line from teacher to advocate.

When people like myself become involved with the issues of the Middle East conflict in I/P, we eventually cross a line between education and advocacy.  Education is needed to inform audiences about the gaps of information we have because of the overwhelming voice of the single narrative of the Israelis we have heard for so long.  There is a need to hear another narrative long absent from the conversation.  But at some point, the change agent emerges through the inevitable impatience that comes from such a teaching role, and the call to action is unbearable.  

At that point, the line between impartiality and “balance” has been crossed, and the activist shows up at street demonstrations and boycotts.  The advocate takes a public position, never ever able to recross the line and teach in quite the same way as before.  Of course it is not that rigid a change, as life is dynamic and in constant ebb and flow. Education, though, never really stops.   The teacher doesn’t stop teaching.  The message which was simply background history shifts to a new level of focused advocacy on the common ground of the injustice of the Israeli government’s occupation of Palestinian people and their land.  No longer is  it about avoiding a choice of one side as opposed to the other.  It’s about what we do with what we now know.  It’s about seeing all, all of us as God’s children. I wonder if the woman who stopped me, and her committee

might now begin to do the real hard work within her congregation of advocating change?  It certainly wasn’t up to Daoud to do this.

As the days have peeled away since my encounter, I have thought much about the criticism I received from the woman that day on the street near the church where Daoud had preached.  After sharing with Daoud the chance encounter with her, I felt even more strongly that he was right to stay within himself, the authentic self, although I  still wasn’t a 100% sure of what I had said.  He was.

On a recent Sunday, at my own church, after having heard Daoud preach there a few weeks before, a long time friend reached over the pew with a warm greeting, and said, “I really thought Daoud’s  sermon was wonderful, though a little understated, given his circumstances.”  She and her husband had traveled to the farm of Tent of Nations, and heard the story, and saw the human landscape that surrounds the Palestinians there.  She knew there was more that Daoud could have told the congregation.  For what he didn’t say was more powerful than a series of stories he might have said about the awful conditions under which he and his people are forced to live.  He refused to concentrate on the oppression of the occupation, and the victimhood of such control, but  instead, focused on the call to be more like Jesus did in an era of another empire of his day.

At the end of his sermon, Daoud does tell one brief story about his family being stopped by an Israeli commando patrol in full battle gear who shouted to Daoud at gun point to get out of the car, leaving his mother and wife inside, and his three children asleep on the back seat. After taking Daoud’s ID, the soldier then ordered him to empty his car into the cold of the winter night, so that a more thorough search could be done.

Daoud explained that his children would be frightened as they awoke and saw the guns. He pleaded to no avail.  As Daoud awakened his children, he spoke to them in English so that the soldiers would understand his words.  He said to his children, “You will see soldiers here and it’s ok.   They are friendly people and won’t harm you.”  After the search, and the family were allowed back into the car, the young officer said to Daoud, “Sir, I want to apologize to you.  What we did here tonight was not good.”   They parted peacefully.  The family drove away to their home in Bethlehem.  No doubt the soldier, and perhaps his comrades went away with new thoughts about the orders they were enforcing on this family and other Palestinians they might meet in the future.

On the Sunday when Doaud preached that one story was all that his audiences needed to hear at the end, because most of the sermon he had already delivered was about, our call to be ‘faithful, loving and hopeful’ in the belief for another way.  What he didn’t say and could have said, spoke volumes about his faithfulness  to the gospel.  I hope that the woman who caught me on the street that day after Daoud preached, is having second thoughts about the impact  Daoud’s sermon had on members of her congregation.  I think she’d share a different impression as I now firmly believe to be so.

***

27 Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid.

BP