A Personal Journey to Truth: Postscript
[By Dr. Bill]
My activism in the 1990s was limited to participating in a few peaceful protests outside the UN and the Israeli consulate in Manhattan, and attending the annual conference of a prominent Arab-American organization in Washington, DC. Several prominent speakers and activists of the period were there giving presentations and I wanted to hear what they had to say.
The last event that I led was at a Conservative congregation in Nassau county, Long Island. A long time friend of mine was on the board of trustees there and he arranged it. He was very well meaning and well intended. He wanted to present the ongoing Israel/Palestine conflict from an Arab perspective. He knew that by that time I knew quite a few Arab-American individuals and thought I’d be the perfect liaison. Now he was not an anti-Zionist, but he was not exactly pro-Zionist either and his wife had some not so kind things to say about a visit she once made to Israel.
This “conference” was scheduled for a Sunday morning, and the social hall was filled.
I showed up with seven or eight young Arab-Americans all of whom were in their twenties. Things started to go downhill before any presentation even had a chance to start. One of the young men was wearing a taqiyah which is the traditional male Muslim head covering. It was a cream-white in color. It is not that dissimilar to a Kipah or Yarmulka worn by religious Jewish males when attending synagogue or even during the day.
So, some schmuck (love that Yiddish word) comes over to him and in front of me demands that he remove it. I get between them and tell him he needs to show some respect and there is no way he is removing it. I ask him if he would demand a chasidic male remove his shtreimel in his presence. He backed off, but that sort of set the mood for the rest of the morning.
I got up to speak first and by the time I was three sentences in I was being interrupted and some people started shouting at me. Within ten minutes people started walking out. I’ll admit I’m not the most tactful person in the world and I suffer fools badly.
We never even got to the intended point of the meeting; my friend gave me an apologetic look and we simply ended it. I don’t think I’d ever experienced such bad manners from an organized congregation.
The point of my telling this anecdote is to issue some words of caution to those of you who quite admirably would like to become activists on this issue. The Israel/Palestine conflict, arguably more than any other, exposes raw nerves on both sides. Someone once said to me: “You know, the whole thing is quite complicated.” I replied that actually it wasn’t and I could reduce it to one compound sentence, “YOU STOLE THEIR LAND; THEY WANT IT BACK.”
Because this conflict has been arguably intractable for three quarters of a century, there will be times when as my mother used to say, “you might as well bang your head against the wall.” Don’t be surprised if you suffer from burnout. I certainly did. It may not happen while you are in your twenties or thirties, but give it time. It got to a point where I simply didn’t need the aggravation, and my attitude became, “hey, I don’t live there…fuck it.”
I only recently started up again because I learned through Mondoweiss blogpost what had happened to Jessie Sander. What happened to her was EXACTLY what Rabbi Berger had warned me about way back in 1978. That really struck a nerve in me and that was the reason I offered her my book collection. I knew she’d make good use of it. It was just gathering dust on my shelves and I didn't want them to be lost or destroyed.
If you choose to be an activist don’t be surprised when those in opposition to your position are nasty or even try to destroy your career as when that synagogue fired Jessie for merely expressing her thoughts. As far as I’m aware we don’t have thought police yet in the United States as there are in totalitarian countries.
You have every right, and perhaps even an obligation to stand up for truth and justice and equal rights for all; because if some of us aren’t free, then none of us are free. Pass the torch on.
