I normally have Goody Two Shoes help me take people around Bethlehem because I don’t know my way around too well.
Some time ago Bee and I were discussing our shared frustration at similar experiences. Bee attended a religious event with a particular theological inclination different from hers, and I attended a cultural event with strong political affiliations different from mine.
How did it happen that it all feels so familiar – riots, violence, bloodshed, and the lead-like weights on my heart making it hard to breathe or even think?
I am not sure if it was my age or my brain that would not let me sleep.
Could it be my social justice leanings or my 'white privilege'.
I write as “Q” because I continually question. I address the same questions to God, to myself and to my fellow travelers on the Way. I write as “Q” because I consistently experience my life as an ongoing quest.
I almost fell out of the window! Sitting on the windowsill 3 floors up leaning out to try and clean the window from the outside. Whizz, pop, bang, whizz, pop, bang as the tear gas canisters flew past me. They almost hit my car below.
As an American and Israeli, national days of remembrance are days of mixed feelings for me. I feel joy at having a homeland and nation where I can, theoretically, live freely, move freely, and speak freely.
“If you could choose to live in any Jerusalem neighborhood, where would it be?” my roommate asked me as we discussed our plans to look for a new apartment.
We have moved house, a temporary move about 5 km away, almost on the same road that runs in a straight line from Jerusalem to Hebron.