Just Let It L'Chhhappen : February 2015

Yafo is one of my favorite places to go on the weekend. Part of the municipality of modern Tel Aviv, the ancient port city is full of lore. It hosts the church where St. Peter had a dream in which God told him Christians could eat all foods, marking a historic dietary split from Judaism. It is also the place where Jonah set off on his Biblical journey.

Adi and I like to ride our bikes starting from my place, through the funky, artsy neighborhood of Neve Tzedek, which reminds me of the Marigny in New Orleans. We arrive at the beach, and then gradually approach Yafo along the water. We pedal through the spacious Charles Clore Park, and then fight through the throngs of people crowding around the street performers, the beach-goers, the soccer players. Sometimes that's as far as we go; there are huge palm trees at the park that provide natural shade and comfortable grass, just above the crowded sand, where we practice Hebrew or read or write, take a dip in the warm Mediterranean, and repeat.

If we continue, we eventually hit the brick lane which flanks the village along the water. The winding cobbled streets are lined with cafes and restaurants. The ancient stone steps climb upward to a central square, all beige and gray sandstone, with gorgeous lookout points of Tel Aviv to the North. It's easy to get lost in the high-walled, meandering alleyways.

The Jewish Shuk (market) is closed on Shabbat, and so is Abu Hasan, which is widely considered to be the best Hummus joint this side of Akko. But most of the Arab shops are open. At the port down below, there is a festive artisan market with Israeli craftsman selling their handmade wares. Music fills ours ears from the live band.

Because of its large Arab population and proximity to the shore, Yafo is the place to get fresh shellfish. Irreverent Israelis crowd around the little seafood joints and dockside bars (queuing is anathema to Israeli culture). They impatiently shout in Hebrew for their fried calamari, shrimp, and St. Peter's Fish, while the cooks shout back just as loudly. You can get a big plate of fish and fries, plus a beer, for around 30 shekels (8 bucks) which is simply unheard of in Israel.

I munch down on everything. Adi eats some fries and an apple. She's not kosher, but she's never eaten pork or shellfish before and can't bring herself to try. (Many Israelis are like this, actually - not religiously Kosher, but Kosher by tradition). Still, Adi knows how much I love this stuff, and how it reminds me of home, so she doesn't give me any grief.

Eventually we say, "Takshitim," which is the Hebrew word for "jewelry." I accidentally said this once instead of "Tamshikhi," the word for "Continue," and Adi loved it so much that it became an inside joke between us. :) Anyway, we continue, beyond the port to the expansive, beautiful Midron Yafo Park.

The views are unreal. Against the calm dark blue of the Mediterranean Sea, the green grass seems brighter than grass should be. People sit picnicking on blankets on the sharply sloping hills overlooking the water. A big Arab family sits barbecuing under an awning, while a big Jewish family is barbecuing nearby under the trees.

The playgrounds are full of children running and laughing. Mothers and fathers with strollers stand around the perimeter, smiling and soaking up the sun.

I hear Arabic out of one ear and Hebrew out of the other ear.

I see Arabic children and Jewish children playing together.

This is why I love Yafo. It is one of the most robust examples of coexistence I have seen here in Israel. (Haifa is another example, but I'm not as familiar with it). Yafo is a place that, in the years before 1948, was an epicenter of the Arab uprisings, but also a place with countless stories of Arab friends saving Jewish friends and vice versa. Of Jewish and Arab employees working side by side, and close family-to-family bonds.

This is still true, to some extent, today. My friend Esty used to date an Israeli guy who chooses to live in Yafo, not because housing is cheaper, but because it is the only neighborhood where he could find an apartment that allows mixed Arab-Jewish housing. The inter-faith couple that married last August and was subject to angry demonstrations, was from Yafo.

And now, we ride our bikes through a park where the smoky smell of tasty meat emanates from grills of all ethnicities. Barbecue on a sunny day: the universal language.

What are the feelings of these Arabs I see here, picnicking and laughing? I would think that surely, even though they are treated as second-class citizens, they must feel they're better off than their co-religionists in Syria or Lebanon, or Egypt, or Northern Nigeria, or so many other Muslim areas where death and danger are the norm?

But then, I think of Gaza. It is much very much by chance that these peoples' grandfathers chose to stay in Yafo after the wars that led to so many others' displacement. The people here could have easily have been born into a vastly different situation in Gaza, where they would not have freedom of movement nor the right to vote, their opportunities immensely hindered.

Do these Arab families sitting at this park feel lucky? Empathetic? Apathetic? Embittered? Unsure?

We cycle to the end of the park, to the predominantly Arab portion of Yafo, where the beach is littered with trash. I think of the Israelis, also smiling and grilling in the same park. As I've said in previous posts, I can't put myself in the shoes of these Israelis. These Israelis, who worked so hard for so long to have a place of their own, a place where they as Jews can determine their own fate, a place where Jews from all over the world can find a safe haven.

Have these Israelis hardened themselves to the brutal truths of the Middle East, the eat-or-be-eaten paradigm, the calculus of strength that has proven throughout history to be the only thing that matters? Have they, consciously or un-consciously, put the Conflict far into the back of their minds, so much so that they can now picnic alongside Arabs without acknowledging their presence -- both literally the Arabs in this park and figuratively the Arabs on the other side of the Green Line?

Sometimes I think Naftali Bennett, the right-wing politician and chairman of the Jewish Home party, is correct when he says, "Some problems don't have a solution." If we were to make peace, and achieve a two-state solution, things could completely fall apart. The fragile Palestinian Authority, un-elected and rife with corruption, could fall to into the hands of Hamas, or ISIS, or worse. This already happened in Gaza, but there is more at stake in the West Bank because of its large size, and because of Jerusalem.

As for the Israeli side, it is completely within the realm of possibility that a two-state solution would lead to civil war. That's not so far-fetched. The belief of the extremist settlers and other ultra-nationalist Jews is that God gave this land undivided to the Jewish people, and mere politicians have no right to barter it away. This was the exact sentiment of Yigal Amir, the Jewish terrorist who assassinated Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin in 1995.

Extreme religious viewpoints, on both sides, do not leave room for compromise. But even if Mr. Bennett is right, even if this problem doesn't have a solution, and we must continue the occupation into perpetuity, do we need to make the Palestinians' lives such incredible hell? Do we need to employ the perverse logic of equating Hamas with all Palestinian people, many of whom just want to live their lives in peace and safety? Do we, with our iron-fisted policies that we call "deterrence," of demolishing homes and razing neighborhoods and depriving the people of basic water and electricity, do we need to fuel the fire, and in doing so, play a part in creating the next generation of terrorists?

No, we don't. Michael Oren calls it the "Two-State Situation," and even Bibi, during the initial years after the 2nd Intifada, promoted a policy of "Economic Peace." The idea is, in a nutshell, to develop economic ties and jobs, and reduce discriminatory inciteful practices wherever possible. In reality, this means giving law-abiding Palestinians freedom of movement and working permits. It also means reasonably granting housing permits so that Palestinians don't need to build illegally on their own land, and can link up to the electricity and water grids. It means limiting Jewish settlement to areas earmarked under the Geneva Convention. And it means actually prosecuting the Settlers who uproot Palestinian farms and commit "Price Tag" crimes with virtually no repercussions. It means equality of access to water.

Maybe, over time, over generations, this type of economic development could lead to real peace.

Or maybe I'm naive. Maybe it will never happen.

But when I want to see a glimpse of how this peace would look, however tenuous it might be, I come watch the families picnicking and the children playing on a sunny day in Yafo.