This blog expands on one of such partnerships, listed in an article on a different C3000 website.
Sophia Yan writes about the village of Neve Shalom or ‘Oasis of Peace’’, founded in the 60s, which proves that Palestinian Muslims and Israeli Jews can live together peacefully. Edited extracts follow. Her article is pay-walled.
This idyllic spot between Tel Aviv and Jerusalem is the only village in Israel where Muslims and Jews choose to live together. A sign at the entrance displays the community’s name in Arabic and Hebrew – Wahat al-Salam and Neve Shalom – meaning “Oasis of Peace.”
It was founded by the late Rev Bruno Hussar – a Jew born in 1911 in Egypt, ordained as a Dominican priest, and later naturalised as an Israeli citizen. In the 1970s, between two Arab-Israeli wars, he convinced a nearby Trappist monastery, Latrun, to lease 100 barren acres to him for 100 years – at just 25 cents a year. His vision was for an interfaith community for Muslims, Christians and Jews, aimed at fostering mutual understanding and respect.
Eti Edlund founded the bilingual joint school in Neve Shalom
The Oct 7 Hamas attack in Israel – killing 1,200 people and taking 240 as hostages – shook the village of 300 residents to its core, as it did the entire nation.
The foundational tenets of the community – peace, mutual respect, equality – were suddenly under threat. The community immediately shut its front gates and organised a night patrol just as they had done when, in calmer times, the village had been vandalised by extremist Jews who opposed the idea of peaceful co-existence.
More than three months into war, things are starting to settle into a new normal at the village. The primary school, which welcomes Arab and Jewish children, has reopened since the start of the Israel-Hamas war. has re-opened, kids are gathering for play dates, and group meditations are being held.
One week after the initial Hamas attack, the village’s 40 Palestinian and 40 Jewish families met separately to speak at the White Dove Hall, near the village entrance. “Only from the third meeting onwards, we said we felt safe enough to sit together,” said Mr Joffe.
“As someone who lives in the middle, Oct 7 was hard for me as well,” said Nadim Tali, 23, a Palestinian. “I felt the blow as someone who has Jewish friends… and also friends in the south, where the attacks were.” It got tougher still when his best friend, Adam Ben-Shabbat, 23, became one of the 360,000 reservists called to serve in the war.
Conscription has long been a sensitive, complicated issue for the village. A few years ago, Mr Ben-Shabbat joined the military – as mandated by the Israeli government for Jewish citizens, with 32 months of service for men and 24 for women. “You can’t create an ‘oasis of peace’ and then have people join the military. It contradicts the whole shtick of it,” said Adam Tali, Nadim’s brother (left).
For many Palestinians, the Israeli military is the most visible symbol of occupation and oppression. But for many Jews it’s a way to serve their country and, depending on the role they take up, a potential launching pad for various careers. “The army is like the biggest villain in our life,” said Nadim. “For Adam, he sees it as security.”
When Ben-Shabbat first enlisted, some of his friends boycotted a farewell party. His family, staunch nationalists, saw it as an honourable thing to do: “For me, as a Jew who grew up here, this is the law. One cannot choose to refuse the law when it suits, and also the belief that we need protection as a country.”
During his first stint in the army some friends from the village wouldn’t hang out with him when he was in uniform; one friend stopped talking to him entirely for six months. “After I finished, I really wanted to let go, and just be Adam from Wahat al-Salam/Neve Shalom, and to have this identity only,” he said, vowing never to put on a uniform ever again. But in October Mr Ben-Shabbat was ordered back to the army, along with his brother.
This time it brought the group of friends closer, as it pushed them into deep discussions in an attempt to work out their differences.“We don’t have another option; we don’t have other friends!” Ben-Shabbat said. “They understand me fully…more than anyone in the world.”
As the war continues, Nadim and two other friends gather weekly in hopes of finding common ground, and to organise collective thoughts on paper – a statement they can all agree on. Everyone agrees that compassion needs to go both ways – but it’s a work in progress.
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