Reflections on a Journey
In January, 14 Emory students, administrators, and staff members traveled to Jordan, Israel, and the West Bank on the Journeys program, an inter-religious project sponsored by the Dean of the Chapel and Religious Life Susan Henry-Crowe. Emory College sophomore Jonathan Endelman and junior Brenton Kinker and share their reflections from the trip with Emory in the World.

Perhaps the most polarizing issue in the world today, the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, seems to divide everyone in society into one camp or the other. Over winter break, our group traveled to Israel and the West Bank in order to learn what was really going on. Sure, I had read everything in the papers, but I wanted to see what was happening on the ground. I came away with a much deeper understanding of the obstacles that stand in the way of peace. I also gained an unexpected sense of empathy with those embroiled in the conflict and the toll that it has taken upon them.
Those who examine this conflict from the outside must understand that, at its very heart, it affects people in their everyday lives. We met with an Emory alum, Peter Nasser, who could not even imagine a life without checkpoints and soldiers. We toured a Bedouin camp in the West Bank with buildings that were falling apart or only half constructed and heard the story of an Arabic teacher who no longer has a job because he cannot enter Jerusalem without a proper permit from Israeli authorities. We walked on the land of a Palestinian farmer who has been fighting in court for the past several decades to prevent his land from being seized by the government and used for settlement road construction. He runs a summer camp where urban Palestinian children play sports and foreign volunteers plant olive trees to help solidify his claim to the land.

In the course of all of this, we learned that there are many more than two sides to this conflict and just as many perspectives about how to resolve it. Bringing peace to this troubled region will not be easy. It will require a delicate balance between peace and security for both nations. I returned to the United States convinced that a two-state solution must be implemented where a strong Israel can live side by side with a strong Palestine. As a Jew, I learned that my support for the state of Israel and concern for the rights of Palestinians are not mutually exclusive. Although we encountered tremendous despair and suffering, we also met with people who were willing to work hard to make this dream one day turn into a reality.

While touring a Palestinian refugee camp, we listened, horrified, as a woman told us how Israeli soldiers would stop ambulances containing pregnant women at checkpoints and search them. Surely, such a measure was cold and heartless. But in a meeting with a Knesset member, we heard a different story of terrorists who had attached a bomb to a pregnant woman riding in an ambulance and detonated it, killing many Israeli civilians. Coming to terms with such a complex issue will be challenging, but necessary for true peace to prevail.

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Jonathan Endelman is a sophomore from Houston, Tex., majoring in Middle Eastern studies.

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It is a crisp, early morning in Jerusalem. I wake at 4:30 a.m., and open the windows as wide as they will go. The elegant adhan of a single mosque reverberates throughout the city. Dozens of other mosques soon join in, the words mingling in a beautiful melody, calling the faithful to prayer, and our Journeys group to another day in the Holy Land.

We boarded the bus heading for a Bedouin encampment just outside of Jerusalem. As we drove, we began to realize that the Bedouin were not in secluded camps far off in the desert, but were in fact all around us. Just off the side of the road we could see make-shift tents made of whatever could be scavenged from the garbage. Thin sheets of metal covered the tents made of wood, and an assortment of goats and sheep roamed freely about the living quarters. When we arrived at the camp of Abu Iyyad, the situation was much the same. But it was also a little different here. Permanent houses were being constructed out of the ubiquitous limestone found around Jerusalem, and a new white mosque stood in the center of the 100-family community.

But what was perhaps most disturbing about this particular location was the dichotomy between settler and Arab. Just across the valley stood a beautiful Israeli settlement. The houses were large, the lawns a beautiful green, and the walking paths lined with streetlights. Nearby, the inhabitants of the Bedouin camp had no access to water or electricity, even though the camp is under the administration of Israeli authorities.
As we sat in a tent that belonged to our host, we were treated to coffee and fruit juice. Abu Iyyad used to be an Arabic teacher in Jerusalem before he, like so many others, had their entry permits denied when the political situation changed. His daughter holds a master’s degree in biology, yet is unemployed because she is not able to get into Israel proper to find a job. His son was doing poorly in school and probably won’t go to college. He works in a small shop making the equivalent of $2.50 a day. “What are your dreams? What do you want for your future?” we asked him. “I have no future,” he replied.

When we again boarded the bus with waves and promises to return, we were in a somber mood. The raggedy children gathered around the bus, watching it drive into the distance. Looking out the window, I could not help but think about how lucky I was to be an American. To be a college student. To be welcomed into the house of a man who had all the reason in the world to distrust me as an American, but who was more interested in shaking my hand, smiling, and trying to teach me another Arabic word.

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Brenton Kinker is a junior from Rochester Hills, Mich., majoring in international studies.