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I’m going because in a dream Rachel Corrie whispered in my ear and said, “Come, follow me.”
I’m going to behold the dignity of Umm Mahmoud.
I’m going to experience the varieties and vagaries of insomnia in Rafah.
I’ve been reading Ali Abunimah’s book, One Country: A Bold Proposal to End the Israeli-Palestinian Impasse. He quotes an Israeli Arnon Soffer who in 2004 bluntly stated in an interview: “We will tell the Palestinians that if a single missile is fired over the fence, we will fire ten in response….when 2.5 million people live in a closed-off Gaza, it’s going to be a human catastrophe. Those people will become even bigger animals than they are today, with the aid of an insane fundamentalist Islam. The pressure at the border will be awful. It’s going to be a terrible war. So, if we want to remain alive, we will have to kill and kill and kill. All day, every day.”
I was reminded of something my teacher, Jewish theologian Marc Ellis wrote a few years ago: “Rather than discovering this inclusive liturgy of destruction, what amazes me is how we have repressed it, as if the suffering of Palestinians at our hands can be repressed forever and the liturgies of our synagogues and the work of our artists can survive this violation of another people without change.” (from Practicing Exile)
And last, the famous words of Rabbi Hillel: “Whatever is hateful unto thee, do not do unto they fellow: this is the whole Torah; the rest is explanation.” (Sayings of the Fathers [or Pirke Aboth], translated by Jospeh Hertz)
One of the reasons I do the student profile at the beginning of Social Justice class is so I can get some clues, hints, and guesses about the people I am going to be learning with for 16 weeks. Sometimes, it’s illuminating to me to learn what a particular student reads, which musical artists she likes, or how he defines his religion or ethnicity.
So I was a little intrigued in late August of last year when I saw that I had one Tina Azzam in class. I’d had her brother, Mark, in my class in spring 2004. I remember how he identified himself as Lebanese-German American, but then I read on Tina’s profile that she was Lebanese (Palestinian)-German.
Very interesting.
She talked early in the class, in the context of 9.11, how sometimes people will say disparaging things about Arabs, and she’ll say, “uh, I’m Arab.” Which caught those people off guard.
Late in the semester, I invited her to lunch at Vito’s to chat, and it was quite an eye-opening discussion. The next night, November 29, Magan Wiles gave her report back at SLU on her three months of working in Palestine. I was happy to see Tina at the event.
It does happen that, on occasion, I will be moved to tears by a student’s writing. Such was the case when reading the following reflection paper from Tina …
After attending the talk and hearing Megan and Sebastian’s experiences, as well as getting up-to-date information, there is only one word to describe how I’m feeling: lost. When I was much younger and people asked me what culture my last name, Azzam, is, I would say Lebanese. That’s what my family identified itself as (my mother’s side is German). I distinctly remember being in 6th grade social studies class and learning about the PLO. My mom and I were sitting in the living room and I asked her a question about something in that paragraph. Apparently, as most history does, this textbook only presented one side. She then explained to me that the depiction of Palestinians in my history book was unfair. My mom, a traditionally “white” woman, then proceeded to tell me what my dad’s mother told her about where that side of the family comes from. I was so confused.
My grandparents lived in Haifa, where my grandfather was a successful tailor with his own shop. When Israel was made a state, they were given two weeks to leave and were giving receipts for their land to come back and claim it. My grandfather bought Lebanese citizenship for them in Beirut, and that’s where my father was born. (The wealthier people did not need to go into the refugee camps). They weren’t allowed back into Palestine, and the Israeli government then claimed that they had abandoned their land. I guess we’re not the only government to use loopholes to get what we want.
As I said, this information was all given to my mom by Teta (an Arabic word for “grandmother”). It is a difficult subject for my dad to talk about. Aside from Middle Eastern food and music being at home, I did not identify much with the Palestinian part of my heritage. Lebanese yes, Palestinian no. I think part of this was also my parents’ choice. My dad is Lebanese by nation of birth, and they didn’t want their kids to be labeled “Palestinian,” as “Lebanese” is more acceptable in this country.
For so long I had closed myself off to this. The issue always caught my eye, but even when I tried to attend the SLU Solidarity meeting, I felt out of place. I didn’t want to be part of a movement simply because of my DNA or because I thought it was expected of me. But tonight, hearing Megan speak and seeing the pictures, I felt my guard come down. As I saw the pictures of the Palestinian children, I saw my dad, my uncles, and my brothers when they were young. I even saw myself. It broke my heart. I’ve been looking and searching for something to feel passionate about, and maybe it’s been here the whole time. Something is building inside me, and I’m not sure what it is yet.
This week at Saint Louis University, it was Palestine Awareness Week, thanks to the creative and tireless labors of SLU Solidarity with Palestine. This evening was the first performance of Magan Wiles’ a beautiful resistance: confessions of a human rights hoosier in palestine. Joined by Sara Wall, Magan used photos, recitation, music, chant, anecdote, and dialogue to tell of her three months last year in Palestine. I hope she does it again, but in all likelihood, the work will evolve as a project ever in progress and process. About 100 people showed up at Carlo Auditorium in Tegeler Hall to be mesmerized by this dramatic, funny, and heart-breaking piece de resistance.
I recently read a book of interviews and manifestos by poet Anne Waldman, called Outrider. In one passage, Waldman writes about the “Outrider,” which makes me think immediately of Magan and what she does in a beautiful resistance:”The OUTRIDER holds a premise of imaginative consciousness. The OUTRIDER rides the edge—parallel to the mainstream, is the shadow to the mainstream, is the consciousness or soul of the mainstream, whether it recognizes its existence or not. It cannot be co-opted, it cannot be bought. Or rides through the chaos, maintaining a stance of ‘negative capability,’ but also does not give up that projective drive, or its original identity that demands that it intervene on the culture. This is not about being an Outsider. The OUTRIDER might be an outlaw, but not an outsider. Rather, the OUTRIDER is a kind of shaman, the true spiritual “insider.” The shaman travels to zones of light and shadow. The shaman travels to edges of madness and death and comes back to tell the stories.”
Indeed, Magan told us such stories about her dear friend Fayrouz in Balata Refugee Camp and her own struggles back in the United States of Amnesia.
After seeing the performance, a former student in tears came up to me, saying “I didn’t know, I should have known, what can I do?”
With this 50 minute performance about her travel to those “zones of light and shadow,” Magan changed this young woman’s life.
And once again changed mine.
I'm one of the fortunate ones who receive a weekly "Sunday Letter" from Edna Pauly. Edna's weekly communications come through sleet, rain, or snow, and she doesn't lay expectations on me about responding. In fact, during 2006 I realized that I looked forward to Edna's letters, but almost never mentioned this to her and never took the bait when she asked for reader response. But in weeks that were bad for me, it was a shelter in the storm to know that Edna's unconditional love and concern would prevail. At times I envied her chutzpah, world smarts, and equilibrium in a crazy mixed-up world and a morally puny (rather than courageously prophetic) hierarchical church. Edna Pauly and one of my other favorite women have strong guts I say. More...
Some years back, I met a wonderful woman in Waco, Texas: Keren Batiyov. At the time, she was one of the few people I'vdmet who had actually read my book on Elie Wiesel, and she offered an appreciative response. A faithful Jew, she worked with ISM in the fall of 2004 and plans on returning this summer. She recently sent this apt letter to the editor of the Washington Post...
Dear Editor:
Deborah Lipstadt's op-ed piece villifying former President Jimmy Carter and his new book was disgusting. Whenever Zionism is exposed for what it is play the Holocaust card and charge "anti-Semitism;" more often than not those cudgels will effectively silence criticism and dissent. And to use the name of plagiarism-and-torture-is-ok Allen Dershowitz as an example of one who levels legitimate criticism at Carter is beyond the pale.
One cannot have the 4th largest nuclear arsenal in the world, maintain the 4th strongest army in the world, and be the recipient of more US foreign aid and military support than any other country in the world and at the same time continue to claim victimhood. And unfortunately, like so many former victims, Israel has become the victimizer. I would charge Ms. Lipstadt to go to the West Bank and Gaza and see for herself.
As an American Jew of Conscience I am delighted to see a person of such political consequence finally utter the "A" word and break the taboo of calling Israel to account, despite the fact that he neither goes far enough with his conclusions - slow genocide and ethnic cleansing are more appropriate terms - nor does he recognize the government-sanctioned discriminations suffered by Israeli Palestinians. Hopefully, former President Carter will maintain his principled stand despite the scurrilous onslaughts. Like all truth-tellers he will suffer mightily for daring to call power to account.
Cordially,
Keren Batiyov
2814 S Wakefield Street
Unit C
Arlington, VA
Kristen shared the following message to her 9:30 am Social Justice class at Saint Louis University this past December.
For some reason, today has been a really difficult day. I just feel so disillusioned right now with my country, with the world, with my part in this world.
I’m just so angry right now. I’m angry that it’s election day and I live in a country that’s so freaking fucked up that all we care about is being the best and stepping all over whoever is in the way in becoming the best, even if they are our own people. I’m angry that all our politicians, or most anyway, are just power-hungry animals who really don’t give a damn about the constituents they represent or the other people in the world. I’m angry at Catholics and Christians and everybody else who place themselves in the pro-life category because they’re against embryonic stem cell research and abortion but don’t give a shit about people’s standards of living, about the preferential option for the poor, about the blatant fact that Jesus was a nonviolent person and that our country is killing innocent people and ignoring starving children and other conflicts and genocides around the world.
More...
Recently, I've been studying the classic work of Judaism, Sayings of the Fathers, in a 1945 translation by Rabbi Joseph Hertz. The work includes some of the great epigrammatic wisdom from the early period of the Common Era. Here’s how one scholar, Gorfinkle, described it —“By this excellent practice, a whole body of moral dicta—each one summing up with remarkable conciseness a life’s experience and philosophy, each one breathing the spirit of piety, saintliness, justice and love for humanity—has sunk deeply into the innermost heart and consciousness of the Jewish people.” [p. 9]
Here are some of the sayings I will continue to meditate upon:
1. José, the son of Yoezer, or Zerdah, said, Let thy house be a meeting house for the wise; sit amidst the dust of their feet; and drink in their words with thirst. 1.4
2. José, the son of Yochanan, of Jerusalem, said, Let thy house be open wide; let the poor be members of thy household; and engage not in much gossip with women. This applies even to one’s own wife; how much more then to the wife of one’s neighbor. Hence the sages say, Whoso engages in much gossip with women brings evil upon himself, neglects the study of the Torah, and will in the end inherit Gehinnom. 1.5
3. Hillel and Shammai received the tradition from the preceding. Hillel said, Be of the disciples of Aaron, loving peace and pursuing peace, loving thy fellow creatures, and drawing them near to the Torah. 1.12
4. He used to say, If I am not for myself, who will be for me? And if I am only for myself, what am I? And if not now, when? 1.14
5. Shammai said, Fix a period for thy study of the Torah; say little and do much; and receive all men with a cheerful countenance. 1.15
6. Tabban Gameliel, the son of Judah the Prince, said, An excellent thing is the study of the Torah combined with some worldly occupation, for the labor demanded by them both makes sin to be forgotten. All study of the Torah without work, must in the end become futile and become the cause of sin. Let all who are employed with the congregation act with them for heaven’s sake, for then the merit of their fathers sustains them, and their righteousness endures forever. And as for you, (God will then say,) I account you worthy of great reward, as if you had wrought it all yourselves. 2.2
7. Hillel said, Separate not thyself from the congregation; trust not in thyself until the day of thy death; judge not thy fellow-man until thou art come into his place and say not anything which cannot be understood at once, in the hope that it will be understood in the end; neither say, When I have leisure I will study; perchance thou wilt have no leisure. 2/5
8. Rabbi Tarfon said, The day is short, and the work is great, and the laborers are sluggish, and the reward is much, and the Master is urgent. 2.20
9. He used also to say, It is not thy duty to complete the work, but neither art thou free to desist from it; if thou hast studied much Torah, much reward will be given thee, for faithful is thy Employer to pay thee the reward of thy labor; and know that the grant of reward unto the righteous will be in the time to come. 2.21
10. R. Ishmael said, Be submissive to a superior, affable to a suppliant, and receive all men with cheerfulness. 3.16
11. R. Meir said, Lessen thy toil for worldly goods, and be busy in the Torah; be humble of spirit before all men; if thou neglecteth the Torah, many causes for neglecting it will present themselves to thee, but if thou laborest in the Torah, He has abundant recompense to give thee. 4.12
12. There are four characters suggested by those who attend the house of study: he who goes and does not practice, secures the reward for going; he who practices but does not go, secures the reward for practicing; he who goes and practices, is a saint; he who neither goes nor practices, is a wicked man. 5.17
13. Ben Bag Bag said, Turn it (the Torah) and turn it over again, for everything is in it, and contemplate it, and wax grey and old over it, and stir not from it, for thou canst have no better rule than this. 5.25
14. He who learns from his fellow a single chapter, a single rule, a single verse, a single expression, or even a single letter, ought to pay him honor… 6.3
15. Wert thou to give me all the silver and gold and precious stones and pearls in the world, I would not dwell anywhere but in a home of the Torah… 6.9
Tonight, Megan Heeney and I spoke on Social Justice with 115 SLU students who are Resident Advisors in the various dorms. Were were invited by the ever vivacious Mollie Mohan to join the students this evening as part of the Res Life’s Winter Workshop, the theme of which is “Making a Difference…Every Day!!” It was a pleasure to chat with former students like John Carroll, Samantha Howard, Megan Kinney, Nani Makia, Kelly Hartman, and Sara Bronder. Megan H spoke for the second time in her life about how she got involved in anti-death penalty work, and befriended and was befriended by Donald Jones, who was executed in Missouri two years ago this April. With her usual humility and candor, Megan recounted this journey into the awareness that, just like you and me, Donnie was a person. So simple, right? But there are some whole groups of people we write off, like death row inmates, like Arabs, like Muslims, like gays. I hope Megan continues to find ways to tell that story of awakening–we all need to hear such powerful yet gentle examples of how change occurs and how community is born, in the seeming most unlikely of places. See her letter to Sister Helen Prejean and a letter to Donnie in our Writings section.
It’s obvious: the great blessing for teachers is to meet students who give the class their all. One of these is Patti Silverman, who graced my Tuesday-Thursday 11 am Social Justice class in fall 2006. For her insertion, she worked at Karen House on Fridays. At the end of the semester, I invited students to share a message with their classmates. Here’s what Patti had to say…
Tomorrow is the last day of Social Justice class and I am almost at a loss for words. How do I even begin to describe what has transpired within and outside of the four white walls of room 2096. I came in here in August not knowing what to expect, figuring this would be like any other class. A teacher who doesn’t care to learn my name, exams, lectures—how wrong was I. This may sound odd—I even feel weird writing it, but this class(or maybe the people in it) have changed my life. I have been taken out of my comfort zone, educated on topics I wasn’t even aware of, and opened up to the possibility of a better future. I honestly feel I am a changed person. This class has brought me to tears, made me laugh, angered me, and disturbed me, but this is the first class where I actually had some sort of feeling. Can I even call it a class—I think it should be called a “life journey.” Never would I have thought I would spend each Friday among the poor working at Karen House. I have always felt a drive to help the poor, but never would I have thought I could actually make some type of difference in their lives. Never would I have thought I would come to a class where people actually talk to one another. I have met some of the most remarkable people in this class, people who actually say “hi” to me as I pass them on campus, people who push me to be a better person.
Thank you Romaytha for spending a Saturday night talking with three questioning Catholics about Islam. Thank you Rachel for revealing so much of your life and letting me feel it was okay to reveal mine. Thank you Jessica for your news events as I entered class. Thank you Chris and Sarah for making me realize how little I actually do in the world. You gave me a call to action and I admire your relentless pursuit of social justice. Thank you Ryan for being the cynical voice, as you were often “sick of discussing feelings.” If I go through this whole class I would have to fill up the rest of this journal. But to those I haven’t named—you all left an imprint in your own way.
Never would I have thought I could come to a class and talk about me—my struggles and failures, and find people who really want to listen. What am I going to do next semester from 11-12:15? Go to a philosophy class or history class? I am sure the professor would not allow us to sit in a circle, ring a bell, and meditate. Wow, how much am I going to miss this class. In a way I am scared to leave that door today—am I going to forget everything? What will I do without reading assignments and agendas? How will I know what is going on in the world and find people willing to discuss issues beyond their new crush or Friday night plans? I know I won’t let go of these lessons because they have become a part of who I am. I now consciously stop myself when my thoughts turn negative and tell myself “just like me she wants to be happy, she doesn’t want to suffer.” I spent Thanksgiving in a new mindset, which my family definitely noticed. Every comment they made, whether relevant or not, was followed by a social justice remark: “I don’t like that company because they fund this social injustice…” “I am thankful for this meal because there are people hungry in Saint Louis, in Burma, in Haiti, in our neighborhood…” Every time I talk to my mom on the phone I usually end up reading her some quote related to our conversation from a book we read. Recently she sat by as I read her an entire chapter from The Book of Mev.
As exams are approaching I find myself stopping and saying, “Breathing in I calm myself, Breathing out I smile.” I have realized among all the evils in life—that these moments—this moment really is wonderful.
So lastly, I want to say thank you—even though that doesn’t even voice my appreciation to Dr. C. Thank you for caring about each of us as individuals, actually learning about what is important in our lives. Thank you for sitting in this circle with us, as one of us, instead of standing in front of a board. Thank you for making us write in this journal and read so many books. Thank you for introducing us to your personal life and your wife—who I would have loved to meet and talk about photography with. Thank you for making us stop—for making us feel like we can make a difference. How can I get so sentimental about Social Justice class? Because it isn’t about a book—it is about our lives, and before now I was blind to most of it. Thank you Dr. C for honestly being the best teacher I have ever had. You were not just a teacher of a college course, you are a teacher of life. I admire you greatly—your strength is empowering.
I hope to walk out of this door today and never again turn my back on the world or the struggles of humanity. I challenge myself to continue my action for change, and I challenge each of you to do the same. Our eyes are now open, let us only being to see.
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And other poems featured recently:
The CTSA Core Community is pleased to announce Mark Chmiel's newly published work, The Book of Mev, about his late wife, St. Louis native, photojournalist and activist, Mev Puleo.
Listen now to Mark reading a passage.
Read a review of the book.
The book is available for purchase directly from Mark, at Left Bank Books, and online at Amazon.
CTSA is a member of Justice and Peace Shares. Visit the websites of some of the other member groups.
Inter-Faith Committee on Latin America