The
recent Gulf War began during our Bridges for Peace
board meeting in Jerusalem. BFP staff and directors
from nine different countries had arrived in Israel
just a few days before the war started. It was a time
of some tension. Our U.S. group stayed at the low-budget
Jerusalem Tower hotel that was also headquarters for
a large contingent of women soldiers who were charged
with the responsibility for distributing gas masks
in the area. The hotel was also occupied by an assortment
of Russian immigrants on a field trip and a collection
of Tel Avivians who had come to Jerusalem for a few
days or weeks to avoid possible scud dangers, recalling
that, in the first Gulf War, Saddam lobbed badly-guided
missiles at Tel Aviv whenever the mood struck him.
Most hotels were virtually empty during this time since
tourism was at an all-time low but the Tower, being
decidedly low-budget, had a nearly full house consisting
of an fascinating assortment of eccentrics – including
representatives of that most eccentric of all pro-Israel
aficionados, we who describe ourselves as Christian
Zionists.
We
had great fun trading tall tales with the girl soldiers
and the aging Tel Aviv professors. My friend, Anne,
who accompanied us from Minnesota, was enjoying her
first trip to Israel after years of supporting BFP.
It wasn’t exactly your typical first-time tour.
The hotel instructions began with:
• Gas
masks will be distributed in the lobby tonight at 7:00
P.M.
• The sealed rooms are on the 4th floor.
• When sirens sound take your gas mask and go by stairway to the 4th 11floor.
Water containers will be provided in the sealed rooms.
• Carry your gas mask with you at all times!
But
Anne is a trooper and she entered into the fun of the
adventure without reservation. I suspect she shares
my opinion that the camaraderie of shared adventure,
spiced with a few drops of authentic danger, is one
of life’s greatest unsung pleasures.
We
dutifully carried our gas masks in their army issue
cardboard boxes with plastic shoulder straps. Our BFP
artist, Ron Cantrell, had decorated his box with an
amazing reproduction of Edvard Munch's famous painting, “The
Scream.” Seemed appropriate.
On
our first night in Jerusalem we went across the street
to a small makolet to buy water and snacks before bedtime.
The weather was wet, windy and bitterly cold this March
and that, with the general tension, kept most pedestrians
off the streets. As five Americans trooped into his
store the young clerk looked at us in amazement and
blurted, “How the h-ll you here?” We told
him we had been a bit nervous in the U.S. as war approached
and thought we’d fly over to Israel where they
are better prepared for such things. He shook his head
in disbelief and handed us a free bag of pistachios
as we retreated into the windy night.
After
our board meetings ended and most of the Bridges for
Peace workers had gone home, the weather improved and
Anne and I decided to go the Galilee. The day we returned
to Jerusalem, Wednesday, March 26, was the day the
U.S. forces finally moved on Baghdad. There was an
almost audible sigh of relief in Israel since many
had feared the U.S. would leave the situation unresolved.
I was in a hurry and decided to ignore the warnings
of the rental car company not to drive the vehicle
into Judea and Samaria. We started up to Jerusalem
via the Jordan Valley road early in the morning. I
stopped to fill my gas tank at a station north of Beit
She’an and found a line of Israeli reservists
also filling their tanks. Many had been called up in
preparation for retaliation from Saddam. I pulled up
next to a soldier and tried to pump my own gas. The
soldier said, “O yeah, I lived in the U.S. for
a while and got used to pumping my own gas too but
this guy wants to do it himself. I’ll call him
over for you.” Soon a burly, middle-aged Israeli
lumbered over toward my car. As he was about to grab
the pump, he turned to me and said, “You American?” I
said, “Yup, I’m an American.” He
stepped back, straightened up, gave me a crisp salute
and said, “Today we are all Americans.” I
returned the salute and got into my car, wiping away
a few tears as I drove up to Jerusalem.
I
am thankful to have been in Israel during those worrisome
weeks. I have no illusions that my personal presence
contributed greatly to the Israeli morale during the
war but it felt good to be a small part of the scene.
And I’ve been thinking about those encounters
of late while re-reading some of Martin Buber’s
writings on dialogue and relationships. I will share
a quote from Maurice Friedman, one of Buber’s
biographers:
Buber
had a “full working philosophy” based on
what to me is the heart of his philosophy of dialogue,
the two statements in I and Thou: ‘All real living
is meeting.’ That doesn’t mean that everything
in life is meeting, but real in the sense of that which
fulfills the humanity that’s possible for you,
in your unique way, is meeting.
And
the other is that... “When he says about the
I-Thou relationship, that by the graciousness of its
coming–gracious because you cannot will it–and
by the solemn sadness of its going–sad because
every meeting with the thou, the you, the other...must
again and again turn into an it that has become discontinuous,
become an object; “it can again become a thou,
but it always turns into an it. But he uses the analogy
of the chrysalis and the butterfly. It teaches us to
meet others and to hold our ground when we meet them.
And I think the important, the essential, word there
is ‘teaches.’ “It takes a lifetime
to learn how to be able to hold your own ground, to
go out to the others, to be open to them without losing
your ground. And to hold your ground without shutting
others out.”
We
live in a very interesting time of history. (Old Chinese
curse: May you live in interesting times.) After years
of tragic separation, Jews and Christians are finding
each other again. There are so many hurdles to cross,
so much misunderstanding to repair. The repair work
cannot be done without true meeting, without real people
on both sides sitting down with each other, listening
to each other’s stories, hearing each other’s
hearts. We need Christians, leaders and laity, who
are prepared to “to go out to others without
losing our own ground.”
In
recent years many evangelical Christians have discovered
their “Jewish roots” - their connections
to the land and people of the Bible. A lot of energy
has gone into learning to keep Jewish customs and holidays,
to “do Jewish.” There are wonderful things
to be found in experiencing aspects of Jewish life.
But there are also treasures awaiting us if we are
willing to put some time and energy into living encounters
with our Jewish neighbors in America or wherever we
live.
I
share my stories of our encounters in Israel not as
noble deeds or good examples. Nor do I quote Buber
to impress you with my philosophical profundity. But
the connection between the stories and Buber’s
ideas caught my attention as I thought about “All
real living is meeting.” How much we miss
in our hectic lives by avoiding new encounters. How
much we can learn if we make space for new friends.
If we are willing to listen with our hearts, to speak
carefully and thoughtfully, and to sit together in
silence at times.
The
Spirit is moving all over the world. May we feel the
breeze on our faces as we open up to new encounters.
Back
to the Top
Jews
and Christians share, as Martin Buber so succinctly
put it, “a book and an expectation.” The
interpretations of the Book and the details of the
expectation vary widely but there is a common source
code for both communities. In our generation many Christians
have been rediscovering the Jewish roots of their family
tree and finding in that root system a sense of reconnection
to the land and people of Israel. This rediscovery
effort has caused many, particularly within the Evangelical
churches, to take a fresh look at the very Jewish world
of Jesus and the early church.In this flight back through
history some have flown too quickly over the intervening
time span between the twentieth century and the first.
As we in the Evangelical world search for our Jewish
roots in ancient Israel we should fly low over medieval
Europe and consider the cesspool of antisemitism which
prevailed in the world of our Christian forebears.
One
of the classic vehicles for the transmission of Jew-hatred
in the Middle Ages was the Passion Play. Taking the
text of the Gospels out of its original Jewish world,
where nearly all of Jesus’ early disciples were
Jewish, and into the milieu of Gentile Europe guaranteed
the canard that “the Jews killed Christ” would
create within the minds of the local folk an unsympathetic
view of their Jewish neighbors.
Customs
of observing Christian feast days by tormenting and
terrifying local Jews became common in Europe. Myths
about Jews killing Christian children in order to get
blood for ritual sacrifices abounded. Enforced ghettoization,
occasional burning of towns and synagogues, expulsions,
crusades, inquisitions, pogroms, and ultimately the
Nazi Holocaust, characterized the Christian relationship
to the Jews for centuries in Europe.
Fast-forward
to 2003 and enter Mel Gibson and his soon-to-be released
movie, “The Passion.” A feud is already
beginning to brew over this controversial portrayal
of the last days in the life of Jesus Christ. Elements
of the script have apparently been leaked and a few
scholars and film critics have previewed it. Conflicting
reports are bouncing around on the internet and in
the press. The Anti- Defamation League (ADL) and the
Simon Wiesenthal Center, both traditional watch-dog
agencies in the field of antisemitism, are worrying
aloud about the impact of the film on the Jewish community.
Christian
theologian, Paula Fredriksen, says in an August 4 New
Republic article that, “when the film appears
with translated subtitles in countries like Poland,
Spain, France and Russia, savagery will erupt.” On
the other hand Jewish commentators such as Michael
Medved and David Klinghoffer are defending the rights
of Christians to tell their own story from their own
point of view. Both of these writers are encouraging
the Jewish community to, in effect, take a deep breath
before over-reacting to the film.
No
one in our organization has actually seen the film
so we do not feel qualified to comment on the content.
However knowing the history of two thousand years of
Christian antisemitism, we at Bridges for Peace would
like to weigh in with a cautionary note. As we gaze
back over Christian history we feel unqualified to
instruct the Jewish community as to what might be their
appropriate reaction to perceived signs of on-going
antisemitism. Our organization has been in the forefront
of the battle to educate the church about its own dreadful
history. Even in America there are few of our modern
Jewish neighbors who have been spared some form of
antisemitic experience.
As
Christians we rejoice when the Gospel story is well
told and, while really sound dramatizations of Bible
stories are few and far between, we hope that Mel Gibson’s
new effort will be the faith-building inspiration that
its makers apparently intended.
But
we would like to encourage our fellow Christians to
take a sober view of Medieval Christian history before
getting into a feud that could seriously damage newly
developing relationships with our Jewish friends and
neighbors. There are reasons why we make our Jewish
neighbors nervous. Learn the history before you join
chorus defending a new Christian film. Bridges for
Peace can provide you with resources for this journey.
For
further information please contact:
Bridges for Peace
PMB 33145
5103 S Sheridan Rd
Tulsa, OK 74145-7627
1-800-566-1998 or E-mail us at:
Jewish-Christian Relations
