Letters to My Palestinian Neighbor

“Interacting with believers of different faiths creates religious humility, recognition that truth and holiness aren’t confined to any one path. I cherish Judaism as my language of intimacy with God; but God speaks many languages.”

One of Halevi’s central themes is that of Interfaith Dialogue, of which this is a clear exposition. Halevi regards Judaism as a religion that only places stipulations on the Jewish community itself, not on other people groups, as is the case with universalizing religions like Islam and Christianity. Because of this, Halevi is free to consider other faiths as legitimate expressions of belief in God, and thus to accept differing religious traditions as constituting a common foundation of faith from which to build mutual understanding.

“My journey into your faith was an attempt to learn a religious language for peace. One reason, I believe, that the well-intentioned efforts of diplomats have failed so far is that they tend to ignore the deep religious commitments on both sides. […] And so I address you, one person of faith to another.”

This quote, like the one above, also underscores the theme of Interfaith Dialogue. Unlike many observers, who view the interaction between Islam and Judaism as a complication to the Israel/Palestine conflict, Halevi regards the religious dimension as offering a possible pathway to peace. The background to this quote is Halevi’s previous attempts to forge friendships with Palestinian Muslim leaders and to experience the richness of the Muslim devotional life.

“[Palestinian] leaders have convinced us that this isn’t a conflict, ultimately, about borders and settlements and Jerusalem and holy places. It is about our right to be here, in any borders. Our right to be considered a people. An indigenous people.”

Although Halevi does not tend to cast blame on the Palestinian populace in general, he does offer critiques of Palestinian leaders, whom he sees as persistently undercutting the peace process by their perceived refusal to allow a permanent Jewish homeland in Israel/Palestine. One of Halevi’s main arguments for the justice of the Israeli claim to the land is implicit in this quote—namely, that the Jews are an indigenous people to that territory.

“Those who remain Jews are descended from men and women of incomprehensible faith. Our defeated ancestors believed that the story Jews told themselves of exile and return would someday be fulfilled. One reason I am a believing Jew is because of their faith.”

Here we see the theme of The Culture-Shaping Effects of Stories: the Jewish people’s persistence through history as a result of their faith in a story of exile and return. Halevi’s identification as a religious Jew comes through clearly here, though his religious belief is not primarily based on a conviction about the existence of God or the truth of various dogmas, but rather on a legacy of faith passed down to him as part of his belonging to the arc of the historical Jewish experience.

“Throughout their wanderings, Jews carried with them the land of Israel, its seasonal rhythms, its stories and prophecies. […] The Jewish relationship to the land of Israel shifted from space to time. For us, the land existed in past and future—memory and anticipation.”

This passage is partly meant to counter the antagonistic claim that Jews had been away from the land of Israel since ancient times and therefore had no real connection with it anymore. In answer, Halevi notes that the land of Israel never stopped being an intimate part of the Jewish experience, even if only in the form of old traditions and future hopes.

“Israel exists because it never stopped existing, even if only in prayer. Israel was restored by the cumulative power of Jewish longing.”

Like the previous quote, this one is meant to underscore the uninterrupted nature of Jewish connection to the land of Israel, even over long centuries where the majority of Jews were no longer physically present there. Here we also see some of the idealized, almost mystical rhetoric with which Halevi describes the story of Jewish exile and return.

“A majority of Israelis today are descended from Jews who left one part of the Middle East to resettle in another. Tell them that Zionism is a European colonialist movement and they simply won’t understand what you’re talking about.”

This quote is meant to disarm the perspective that Israel enacting a form of European colonial imperialism through Zionism. While many of the founding leaders of the modern state of Israel were Jews of European extraction, Halevi would contend that the broad diversity of Israeli society overall renders the “European” appellation far too imprecise, and the Jews’ identity as an indigenous people to the land make the colonialist model an inaccurate lens by which to understand the Israeli story.

“So long as Palestinian leaders insist on defining the Jews as a religion rather than allowing us to define ourselves as we have since ancient times—as a people with a particular faith—then Israel will continue to be seen as illegitimate, its existence an open question.”

While Jews are a people with a sacred tradition of religion—namely, Judaism in its many forms—Halevi resists the attempts of others to paint them merely as a religion because to do so takes away the national and indigenous elements of Jewish identity. While a religion cannot usually claim to have a sovereign state as its homeland, an indigenous people can, and that is how Halevi sees the Jewish people.

“God’s redemptive plan for humanity required a people to carry that vision through history. For Judaism, then, peoplehood and faith are inseparable. There is no Judaism without a Jewish people.”

Here Halevi appeals to biblical traditions to reinforce his argument on the theme of Jewish Peoplehood. According to the Bible, God chose the Jews specifically as a people (not a religion or culture or race), a family descended from Abraham, to be a vessel for bearing a divine calling. Thus, while the religious element is deeply intertwined in Jewish identity, the narrative fundamentally returns to the idea of Jewish peoplehood.

“We need to respect each other’s right to tell our own stories. That’s why I am writing to you, neighbor: to tell you my story, not yours. If you choose to write in response, as I hope you will, you’ll tell me your understanding of your history. I respect your right to define yourself, and I insist on the same right. That is the way to peace.”

This is perhaps the clearest exposition of the book’s theme on The Culture-Shaping Effects of Stories, and specifically of the role that stories play in understanding one another’s positions. This quote is also an important explanation of the necessary one-sided structure of the book: Halevi regards it as his task to explain the Jewish Israeli narrative, but the right to tell the Palestinian narrative lies with the Palestinians alone.

“My definition for the Jews is this: We are a story we tell ourselves about who we think we are.”

Here again we see the theme of The Culture-Shaping Effects of Stories, couched in Halevi’s characteristic rhetoric of idealism and mysticism, in which he essentially claims that the story itself constitutes the essence and nature of Jewish existence. His point here is not to diminish any other aspect of Jewish identity, but to make the point that there is no other way to understand that identity than by taking to heart the Jewish self-explanatory narrative.

“There may well be no way to bridge our opposing narratives about the founding of Israel. Even as we seek a two-state solution, we will likely remain with a two-narrative problem. […] Accommodating both our narratives learning to live with two contradictory stories, is the only way to deny the past a veto over the future.”

The thematic focus on stories and narratives arises again in this quote, this time as Halevi wrestles with the problem of how to deal with two inherently contradictory stories. Not only do both the Jews and Palestinians define their identity with reference to a sense of belonging in the same geographical location, but their narratives include opposite interpretations of the same historical events, such as the 1948 war. Halevi does not see the possibility of a smooth reconciliation of that contradiction, only the necessity of learning to live with both claims at the same time.

“I believe deeply in our historical and religious claim to Hebron—to all of the land of Israel between the Jordan River and the Mediterranean Sea. […] But like many Israelis, I am ready to partition the land—if convinced the trade-off will be peace, and not greater terror.”

The theme of Justice and Sacrifice is apparent here, as Halevi expresses a conviction of the justice of Israelis’ claim to occupied territory like Hebron and the West Bank. Nonetheless, that view of the justness of the Israeli claim is conditioned by a willingness to sacrifice it in order to achieve a greater end: living at peace with neighbors whose claims to the same land have equal validity.

“Along with many Israelis of my generation, I emerged from the first intifada convinced that Israel must end the occupation—not just for your sake but for ours. Free ourselves from the occupation, which mocked all we held precious about ourselves as a people. Justice, mercy, empathy: These were the foundations of Jewish life for millennia.”

In this quote, Halevi wrestles with one of the difficult paradoxes of Israeli society: a high sense of moral conscience and the perceived necessity of building a security regime. In order to maintain the idealism of their morality, Halevi believes, Israelis would need to sacrifice some of the protections of the occupation, lest the occupation itself become part of the culture-shaping arc of their historical narrative.

“Jewish history, I believed, spoke to my generation with two nonnegotiable commitments. The first was to remember that we’d been strangers in the land of Egypt and the message was: Be compassionate. The second commandment was to remember that we live in a world in which genocide is possible, and that message was: Be alert.”

As in the previous quote, this passage relates the moral uneasiness at the heart of Israeli society as they are pulled in two directions by the lessons learned from previous stages of their historical narrative. Their desire to deal justly with their neighbors is now conditioned by their fear that the rhetoric of Palestinian terrorists might become reality, eradicating Israel from the land. The ideal of self-sacrifice for a moral cause is a difficult one to undertake when the stakes appear critically high.

“In accepting partition, we are not betraying our histories, neighbor; we are conceding that history has given us no real choice.”

Here Halevi makes his case for a two-state solution, which he himself has largely lost hope of in the wake of the Second Intifada. Nonetheless, he still sees it as the only viable option to secure a lasting peace. Although he knows that both Israeli and Palestinian voices would interpret a partition into two states as a betrayal of each side’s legitimate claims, Halevi makes the pragmatic case that it is the only choice remaining to them.

“The moral argument of partition, then, is simply this: For the sake of allowing the other side to achieve some measure of justice, each side needs to impose on itself some measure of injustice.”

This quote, again in the context of an argument for a two-state solution, brings up the theme of Justice and Sacrifice. However, Halevi does not demand sacrifices of the other side; rather, he sees the practice of sacrifice as one that is exercised on oneself. These two overlapping claims of justice cannot be reconciled without the acceptance of an injustice being done to one or both of the historical claims, and so Halevi suggests that both sides will need to exercise that injustice on themselves, against a portion of their own legitimate territorial claim.

“We need to seek out those generous voices embedded in our traditions and offer new interpretations of old concepts—which is, after all, how religions cope with change. Our traditions invite interpretation. […] Religion can be a force for endless conflict or for peaceful resolution.”

Here the theme of Interfaith Dialogue is apparent as Halevi calls upon the resources of both Islam and Judaism to create a pathway forward. Both traditions, he argues, include ways of perceiving the other side with dignity and respect. These are the “generous voices” to which Halevi refers, and he encourages religious leaders to begin emphasizing those aspects of the Jewish and Muslim perspectives over the more hostile archetypes that have been emphasized in the past.

“The message is that a holy land doesn’t belong to us but to God. […] For me the very conditionality of ownership, the fact that no one and no people can really own holy land, offers a religious basis for sharing the land between us. As custodians, not owners.”

This quote underscores the point that Halevi writes his letters through his personal lens as a religious Jew, and so he draws on religious arguments that appeal both to Jewish and Muslim ways of thinking. In both faiths, as well as in Christianity, there is a common conception of Israel/Palestine as “the holy land.” Halevi suggests that this means that ultimate ownership of the land does not rest with any people group, but with God. With that perspective in place, the dueling Israeli and Palestinian views over land ownership lose some of justification, and a faith-based opportunity for peace emerges.

“If I had to sum up in one word what most characterizes Israeli society, it is: paradox.”

This quote, which serves as a thesis statement of sorts for Letter 8, is an admission of the complexity of modern Israeli society. Halevi tries to guide his readers toward an understanding of that society, but he contends that it can only truly be understood as a balancing act between multiple different poles of duality extending to culture, religion, and politics.

“I see Israel as a testing ground for managing some of the world’s most acute dilemmas—the clash between religion and modernity, East and West, ethnicity and democracy, security and morality. These are worthy challenges of an ancient people that wandered the world and absorbed its diversity—and has brought the world with it back home.”

This passage extends the basic insight from the quote above, describing the paradox of Israel as the clash between several different sets of dual concerns. Halevi shows this paradoxical nature not as a deficiency to be explained away, but as an aspect of Israel’s divine calling to be a blessing to the nations. He is struck by the ways in which the concerns and cultures of many different nations have become part of an ongoing experiment of sorts in the life of modern Israel.

“We are a people long practiced in endurance. We have outlived the empires that tried to destroy us—going back to ancient Egypt and Babylon and Rome. But in our long and improbable history, nothing can quite compare to the resurrection Jews managed in the twentieth century.”

Here again we see the theme of the culture-shaping effects of story, as the Jewish historical narrative is called upon to explain the national Israeli character. In this context, the character trait under consideration is endurance, an ability to endure and survive successive waves of attempted exterminations, from ancient times to the modern world. While Halevi acknowledges the identity-forming importance of that long historical arc, he puts his greatest emphasis on the events of the modern age, for which he expresses a profound sense of wonder at the way in which the Jewish narrative has finally come home, even in the shadow of the Holocaust.

“Two elements were essential in preparing the way for the Holocaust. The first was the criminalization of Jewish existence. […] The second element that made the Holocaust possible is the peculiarity of anti-Semitism, which isn’t mere hatred of Jews but their transformation into symbol—for whatever a given civilization considers the most loathsome human qualities.”

This quote is a helpful summary of the Israeli perspective on the lessons of the Holocaust, and it gives insight into the continuing mindset of Israeli society. Halevi explains much of the current Israeli posture by way of noting that both of the elements cited in this quote are present in the rhetoric of some Palestinian terrorists and their allies around the world, and as such, Israelis live under a constant sense that they must keep their guard up, lest another Holocaust appear.