Timothy Stoner

Nationwide Nonviolence Tour: De Paul University, Chicago

Posted on 10. Oct, 2010 by Tim Stoner in Blog, Screening Tour

We are joined today by Rabbi Avi Novis-Deutsch on the campus of De Paul University. If he were Catholic, I would be tempted to call him Father Tuck. They share a common silhouette but all similarities end there. He is a very bright and committed man. He received his ordination at Schechter Rabbinical School in Israel, graduating with an MA in Talmud and Halacha (Jewish Law). He is been a peace activist since 1986, first with Peace Now and now with Rabbis for Human Rights. For the past three years he has been facilitating and moderating an interfaith group that brings together Israeli Rabbis with Imams and ministers from the West Bank.

Spending time with so many thoughtful and articulate Jews of various religious streams has been an energizing and enlightening experience. It has become one of the unexpected highlights of this tour. Elik is an atheist. He left the tour yesterday to return to Hamshire College to finish a lengthy paper. I miss his provocative and punchy delivery. Being youthful and zealous, he didn’t mind being controversial at all—in fact, I think he relished it. I am thinking about something he told me a few days ago.

We were discussing his belief in the Torah. He responded that he has great respect for these narratives which he believes provide much helpful ethical insights and directives (mixed with lots that are quite unhelpful as well—the ones radical Zionists use to justify mayhem against the Palestinians). He then asked me a question: “Do you know which is the commandment most frequently repeated in the Old Testament?” I told him I thought it was the injunction against idolatry. He said, “no, it is the command to provide hospitality to the stranger, followed by the formula: ‘Remember that you were slaves in Egypt.’”

Interestingly, it is this divine command that compels Elik the atheist to resist the inhospitality exhibited by the Israelis to the thousands of Palestinian “strangers” living in their midst. And yet, millions of theists turn a blind eye to the oppression and cruelty of these who by every biblical warrant deserve to be shown compassion, kindness and favor.

It is the atheist who is getting it right and we purported Christians who blithely and arrogantly keep getting it wrong. The irony is almost too heavy to bear.

Later on I am looking through the Torah and discover something stunning. This concern for the wellbeing of  the “alien in your midst” is woven into the very fabric of the Sabbath commandment—that unique decree that served to set Israel apart from all the nations on the face of the earth. It was the distinctive public seal that validated and affirmed the private seal of circumcision. Jews were to be notorious as the one people on the earth that sanctified the sixth day as a holy day marked by worship of God and rest for all—including the “alien within your gates” (Dt. 5:14).

Sabbath was thus not primarily about ritualized religious activities it was about compassion for the weak. Perhaps more accurately, Sabbath was a holy day displayed as such by religious acts of mercy–of care for those who have no voice, no power: the animals in your stalls and the strangers on the margins. And what was its justification? “Remember that you were slaves in Egypt, and that the Lord your God brought you out of there with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm.” (Dt. 5:15).

I think Elik understands that were Moses to be speaking today he would be commanding the Israelis to demonstrate their love for Yahweh by acting with a gentle concern for the Palestinian refugees in their land who have been pushed to the fringes and cling to existence by a thread. And when asked for a reason, he would point them back 70 years and say, “Remember that you were prisoners in concentration camps and led like sheep to the slaughter. No one spoke up for you, yet the Lord rescued you. Now you do the same for these refugees who live among you.”

I recall Oded, just one week ago, telling me that he rejects the Old Testament and finds nothing of any real value in the Jewish religion. Yet despite his rejection of the Torah he is living it out more faithfully than those who proclaim devotion to its every vowel and syllable and punctuation mark. Whether conscious of it or not he is following the command of Moses to “love those who are aliens.” As all good Jews were required to do, he is living out an ethic of compassion as a counter-narrative to that of suffering and victimization, remembering, even if unconsciously that “you yourselves were aliens in Egypt” (Dt. 10:19).

There are over 220 in attendance tonight at the Cortelyou Commons. It is our biggest crowd thus far. It is large dark wood-paneled hall with vaulted ceilings, wrought iron candelabras and large leaded glass windows. It reminds me of Hogwarts.

“It is our responsibility not to fuel those who speak out of hatred,” Sami asserts, alluding to those on both sides of the conflict. “Don’t listen to such words,” he says, almost sermonizing now. He is not reticent to criticize Arab leadership for their contribution to the conflict; their sins, so to speak, of omission and commission. He believes that Muslim leaders by their silence are failing to articulate the true spirit of Islam which has allowed a false picture to be broadcast about the world. “The bigger responsibility in the Muslim community is to raise up voices that sternly declare what is Islam truly is.”

He explains that he is not speaking as an outsider. While he is a Christian Palestinian, “my heritage is Muslim; my culture is Islam, which is one of respect, honor. Muslims are exhorted to show respect to people of the book (the Jews). These are the voices that need to rise up.” When the radicals with a false view of Islam are not refuted, he says “they win and voices of peace lose–we cannot simply take those words and accept them without standing up against them.”

What makes Sami such a credible voice is that he is not biased in his critique nor is he afraid to acknowledge the strengths of those who hold the military trump card over his people. “I fully believe that Israel is a community that has strong moral and ethical values,” he admits. “This is the foundation we Palestinians are also proud of. It is the same foundation that has formed us.” He explains the impact nonviolent action can have on reminding both sides of this common ethical foundation. “When we engage in these nonviolent activities they create awareness that these values have been over-shadowed by fear to achieve political ends. We are helping them to remember that “this is not really you. This is not who you are.”

A Jewish member of Physicians Without Borders stands up and expresses his appreciation for the documentary. “I congratulate Mart [the producer] and Jim for the extraordinary act of courage in making this film. It is an important tool to help break through hopelessness and help people shift from emotion to honest conversation.”

As a Jew he has great concern for the condition of the Jewish nation. “It is in deep trouble,” he says, “and I say this as someone who has been deeply committed to Israel. But I have come to a realization: the occupation is not in any way Jewish.” He looks around at the crowd that fills the hall. “All those who hold this position face a tremendous amount of risk,” he tells them. “I am delighted to see all those who are here.”

Another audience member speaks out: “This was an incredibly compelling film. I thought it was masterful how it addressed the psychological issue of fear without reducing it just to that.” He wants to know the panel’s opinion about the BDS movement (Boycott, Sanctions and Divestment).

Dr. Braverman is in favor of those acts. “Israel is rapidly heading for a cliff.” There is sense of urgency in his words, and coming from a Jew they carry a somber weight. “Sometimes love has to be tough,” he urges. “You have to be willing to lose relationships to do what is right.” Alluding to the frustration at the failed peace initiatives, he says, “Sometimes, when dialogue is not happening there comes time for direct action.”

Sami is more cautious. He wants to avoid pushing Israel into a corner and increasing a nationalist sentiment borne out of fear and alienation. “The words I prefer to use when we engage in direct action is that of ‘making a personal choice to engage in non-cooperation with systems of oppression.’” BDS makes him uncomfortable. “Boycott sounds more like punishment. I want to say ‘I refuse to cooperate.’ This is not punitive.” He is clearly intent on applying nonviolence as a consistent ethic. “Putting people into isolation does not work. Our goal should be to always keep the space for dialogue open. We don’t want to polarize and isolate.” 

Dr. Braverman disagrees. “You don’t help anyone by allowing them to be wrong,” he says, then, alluding to Sami’s reference to his Muslim culture, explains. “This is a failure of giving proper respect.” 

Our next stop is Detroit. The team will need to be in the hotel lobby at 4:30am for the bus taking them to O’Hare airport. Fortunately, I can avoid that bit of torture. Patty has driven down from Grand Rapids to see me and we will drive back home tonight. We will arrive at 1:30am but at least I will be able to sleep in. I will drive to Detroit with Jonathan, my oldest, and he will be assisting Steve Ledell the photographer with stills.  

Tags: aliens, BDS, elik elhanan, hospitality, Islam, Israel, Little Town of Bethlehem, Mark Braverman, nonviolence, Palestine, Rabbi Avi Novis-Deutsch, refugees, respect, Sabbath, sami awad