A Wall of Hope: The victim of a terror attack wonders whether good fences make good neighbors.
By Rabbi Chaim Brovender - Special To The Jewish Week

I have often wondered if the violent encounter that I had with the Palestinians in Beit Jala a few years ago had any greater meaning to me personally, and whether it might have some meaning for the Jewish people in a historical or meta-historical sense.

As for the former, I suppose that we all have to do teshuva and any incentive in that direction should be seen as positive, even a blessing. Why I had to be beaten severely, twice in fact, by an accidental band of Palestinian thugs on a West Bank road south of Jerusalem, and why I had to be hospitalized and treated for the results of this beating is still far from clear to me; whatever the reason I try to accept G-d’s will with love, and improve what can be improved.

In searching for the greater historic reference, two things come to mind. First, I was beaten for no particular reason that I could discern. The intifada was just getting under way and had not reached the serious state that it would shortly develop into. (The very next Thursday two Israeli soldiers were hanged in Ramallah). I had taken a wrong turn and did not present the Palestinian population with a direct threat of any kind. Nevertheless, I felt the hate (in the blows), and while still conscious saw the faces that spoke the message of hate.

At that moment it seemed to me that there was no way to deal with the people who were destined to remain our neighbors. The entire scene spoke of the hopelessness of our situation. What could be an antidote to the hate that had developed and been sustained for 150 years? In spite of our efforts to reach out and create a better situation for the Arab population, the hate had not abated. It seemed to be clear that our very existence was unacceptable to those who beat me and I did not think that we had anything to offer them to modify this problem.

Our only choice seems to be to react with the strength at our disposal. Strength can cure many things; can it cure hate?

That is the question that hangs unanswered on our side of the security fence. Israel is building a wall to keep out the terrorists, and I am sure that it will work - somewhat. Some terrorists will see the wall and turn back, saying that it is too high or too difficult. Others will think for a while and figure out how to scale the wall and be terrorists. We will continue to wonder why it is that the results of our efforts are always imperfect.

There will be terror with the wall; but many potential terrorists will be stopped by the wall. We have no choice - the wall will help us and some of the danger will be averted.

There was no wall when I was ambushed. Later that evening in the Bethlehem compound (where I was actually jailed) my captors decided that I would be freed later that evening, and took me to what they called an “infirmary.” There was no medical equipment in any obvious place, and nothing medical that they could help me with. Instead I was introduced to the three men in the room as the staff “doctors.” One of them started to swab my face with a towel to remove some of the blood, but quickly gave up the project and left me sitting in pain.

A second doctor approached and asked if I spoke English. I indicated positively with a shake of my head, and he started to speak to me about the situation. He began making a political speech of sorts. “We will free you,” he said, “because we are humane”; this he repeated several times, emphasizing that he was “humane.” He added that if the Israelis had captured an Arab under similar circumstances, “they would have surely killed him.”

During the course of his speech he seemed to be trying to educate me, but I did not respond. He wanted me to know that they did not only hate; they were concerned with their overall position as human beings. He repeated his position with greater intensity. Still I did not respond. “We are human beings and have compassion; take this message away with you,” he demanded.

The intifada has proven that the anger is greater than the desire to be humane, and to act in a more responsible manner. Women and children acting as human bombs; that does not seem humane to me. If they can do that to themselves, there is no limit to the atrocities that can inflict on others.

Still, there may be another wish that they carry in their hearts. To be understood as positive persons, and to act reasonably within the community of humanity.

Can we imagine today that the “humanity” will overcome the “hate?” My experience teaches me that we have to continue to hope.

In the meantime, there is the fence. Do “good fences make good neighbors,” you ask? Will the wall make our world a better place, you ask, would it have spared me the beating I endured? Perhaps, but I actually wonder. I think that good fences might keep neighbors good if they are good before the fence is built. If the neighborhood is bad, will the fence make it better? This is the gamble we’re taking. n

Rabbi Chaim Brovender, a Brooklyn native, made aliyah in 1965 and lives in Jerusalem. The founder, with Rabbi Shlomo Riskin, of the Ohr Torah Stone educational institutions in Efrat, he was attacked by Palestinian Authority policemen on the way to Jerusalem in November 2000.