Understanding the blame game

When in Safad, I looked at the people walking around. They were all Jews. One side of me, the emotional me, wanted to categorize them as evil-doers for living where my dad and his family should be living. Another side of me, realized that these people are not the ones to blame for the injustice that my dad and his family suffered. They might seem as the living representation of the people to be blamed, but, individually, I doubt that any of them would have wished upon anyone's suffering for them to be there.

I rationalized the situation, but my first instinct was to try to blame someone for it. This has made me understand how easily emotions like these could be manipulated to end up in violent acts. It is scary to think about it because it is so powerful.

Lately in the news, I have been reading about the back and forth between Israel and the Gaza Strip and I can only imagine what the Gazans are going through. If I felt what I felt coming from a situation of privilege, where I'm not deprived of anything, really, and I'm able to pursue my dreams, how would I feel if I was deprived and had nothing to hope for in the future? I'm not trying to justify violence, not at all, but I'm making an effort to understand it. On the other hand, you have the state of Israel trying to defend its own against violent acts, with more violence. I'm wondering what this back and forth will end up in...

Visiting Safad

I'm so fortunate that my mom is here visiting me. It's great to have her and show her what my life is like in Jerusalem. 

We rented a car for the weekend to be able to drive around and do some sightseeing. Yesterday, the plan was to drive to Safad, my father's birthplace. On the way there, we visited Nazareth, Tiberius and the Church of the Beatitudes. It was all beautiful, and the drive up north is spectacular. I was mostly surprised by how green and mountainous the area is. Anyways, I had been planning to go to Safad since I got to Jerusalem, but I wanted to take this trip with my mom because I was expecting it to be somewhat emotional.

We drove up, and I was getting more and more nervous as we were approaching Safad. I turned off the radio and wasn't really talking. I had this image of what Safad was going to be like, and I was about to find out what it really is like now. The whiny road finally took us up this hill on to Safad. It was gorgeous, but so strange. In Israel, all of the signs are in Hebrew, Arabic and English. In this town, signs were only in Hebrew and English- no Arabic at all. Driving around, it was as if we were in the wrong place because there was absolutely nothing there that would have identified this town as existing in any other way prior to 48. I got a bit emotional when seeing what the town was like because I did not picture it to be like that at all, and I think it made me sad. It made me sad because had I not known my father's story, how would I have known that anything existed there prior to 48? I wouldn't know. I think it made me sad and scared to think how easily it could be forgotten. 

We finally drove away from the old city and the residential areas, and we stopped in an open field. I stepped out of the car and picked up a few rocks and earth to take back to my dad. The field had some stones spread out, which I'm guessing were remains of where people like my dad's family lived before 48. That is what I took a picture of to show my dad- among other things, I think that's a more accurate picture of the Safad he was born in.

It was a pretty intense experience. I definitely haven't done a good job at explaining the feelings and emotions that I felt, but maybe when I learn to know what exactly they are, I'll do a better job.