Listen to the other,or Muhammad meets Moshe
A few months ago, I introduced a German priestess and a Yeshiva rabbi, who lives in the territories, to one another. When she asked him how he sees the resolution of the conflict, he replied that the common denominator must be found, without getting into petty calculations of simple mathematics.
She asked “What do you have in common?” His reply:
“The Palestinians and we (the settlers) have three things in common: both of us are
Connected to this land, as if it is part of our bodies; no matter what our arguments, both sides feel so. Each side bears suffering due to this connection and due to belonging to this land. Each carries a responsibility for the pain of the other!”
He continued: “If we do not find what we have in common, we will not be able to change anything here, and we will continue to engage in petty calculations about who is more denigrating of the other.”
As a therapist, I sometimes try to trace the pain of the other and his experience from within, in order to feel what I would feel in his place, and how I would treat such pain. In reality, listening is critical, in order that we may find a common way to reduce pain and increase the responsibility that we, as individuals, as different nations and as human beings, can take upon ourselves so that we can change reality.
The following story is true and contemporary, although I have changed the names in order not to cause harm to either side.
I met Muhammad a month ago. I heard about him from a settler friend who knows him. The wadi where he and his family live in complete isolation looks divine; beautiful, simple and quiet. About a month ago, when I first met him, I asked him whether he had any problems. To my surprise, he claimed that his life is good, he had no problems with settlers, the army, civil administration, the Palestinian Authority or any others. The truth is that I was impressed by this simple man who loves the land and life.
About a week ago, Muhammad called me and said that he had a problem with Moshe, a new settler, who had set up a sheep farm not far from him. I arrived the next day to hear more details from him. It turns out that Moshe does not sit on Muhammad’s land, but every time that Muhammad grazes his sheep on the mountains in his land, Moshe bring the army, which drives Muhammad’s flock back down to the wadi. While we were sitting together, Muhammad received a phone call from his son that Moshe and the army had once again driven the sheep down into the wadi. We drove together and arrived to where they were. The reservist soldiers were quiet and calm and asked Muhammad to take his flock down. While he stood on his right to his own land, I went to Moshe, shook his hand and told that Muhammad does not want him to leave, and that the truth is that if they get to know one another, they might even find a way to help each other. This land is Mohammad’s only, inherited from his grandfather, and it is his livelihood. Moshe maintained restraint and was somewhat surprised. He wanted to know more about me, the "strange person" who, having arrived together with Muhammad, was offering to help them. Meanwhile, the DCO replied that it was indeed the land of Muhammad, and thereby Moshe and the soldiers departed.
Meanwhile, I was trying to see how I could reach Moshe and open his heart so he could see a full picture of life. The settler, who had connected me to Muhammad, approached Moshe and tried to speak to him. He felt that Moshe was young and did not yet see the full picture of people living together in the same area. I, too, came to Moshe and suggested that he meet Muhammad so that they could find a way to live together. Moshe spoke with ease about his love of the land and his desire to be a farmer and of the authority given him on the land; and of the ideals on which he was raised. He has no personal interest in Mohammad and no interest in harming either him or his livelihood. For a moment, I felt like the same man in the Zen story who, while standing alongside a busy river, sees an old man on the other side and shouts to the old man “How to you get to the other side?” And the old man answers him across the river “You already are on the other side!”
Meanwhile activists, from human rights organizations, began to arrive.
I turned to the rabbi for help. He had a long conversation with Moshe who, thereafter, seemed willing to find a way and to meet with Muhammad. I offered my help to both of them and said that I, and many supporters throughout the country and the world, would be happy to hear whether Moshe and Muhammad will reach a middle ground?
Meanwhile I am waiting.
Yours, Eyal
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