Because of my Jewish friends

“And who occupied us first, before Israel?”

I am getting grilled on my understanding of Jerusalem’s history.

“Wait, how far back are we going?”

“Just before Israel, who was here?”

“The British.”

“Exactly. The British.”

The fact that I am a rabbi in kippah and tzitzit in this Palestinian man’s home is largely unremarkable. But the fact that I am British makes me circumspect.

Saleh, an activist in Sheikh Jarrah, wants to see if I actually know Britain’s colonial history and the role it played in shaping problems today.

Blessed is God, Creator of the Universe, who has not made me a stranger.

There is no way he could know this, but I come from a socialist family, and listing the crimes of every empire is a longstanding tradition of the dinner table. As he curses the indifference of Arab leaders and the ineffectiveness of diplomats, I am fondly reminded of my dad.

“I tell the diplomats: the shoes of one street activist are worth more than all of you put together.”

Blessed is God, Sovereign of the Universe, who supports every step a human being takes.

Saleh tells me his family’s story, getting out grainy photos going back decades of settler violence, police brutality, threats, and harm.

As he pulls out the photos, he occasionally stops on one and says “this is my Jewish friend.” He is talking about the Israeli activists from Free Jerusalem who turn up to protest against the settlers.

There are some in Sheikh Jarrah, like the al-Qurd family, who will not work with Israeli activists because they want to maintain their autonomy. But Saleh doesn’t see it this way. At every stage, he is eager to tell me that he hates nobody and respects the Jews.

“This is my Jewish friend. He was arrested trying to stop demolitions here.”

Blessed is God, Sovereign of the Universe, who frees all those who are imprisoned.

“This is my Jewish friend. She was shot and lost an eye defending Sheikh Jarrah. I was the first to visit her in the hospital. Her father came too. He used to be a settler and hated Arabs. After weeks of seeing me support his daughter and seeing what the occupiers did, he apologised and changed his mind completely. He told me he could now understand all the lies he had been told.”

Blessed is God, Sovereign of the Universe, who opens the eyes of those who cannot see.

It is remarkable that a racist could turn away from hate. It is more remarkable that such a man as Saleh would not feel it.

On either side of his home, there are settlers. At the back, from behind barbed wire, settlers throw rocks at his family. At the front is another house, filled up with Israeli flags and security infrastructure, where settlers live who have told him they want to burn him alive, just like they did to the Dawabsheh family in Duma.

Blessed is God, Creator of the Universe, who lifts up those bent low.

“After October 7th, I had to stop doing the protests. Not for me, but because of my Jewish friends. Since Smotrich, everyone has machine guns. I cannot stand to see someone die because of me. I am ready to die. I have been to jail 25 times. I can endure anything. But I cannot put my Jewish friends in danger any more.”

Blessed is God, Creator of the Universe, who gives strength to the weary.

“I do not hate any Jew, or anyone for being British. I hate the people who are trying to steal my house. Whoever it was, I would try to stop them. I have to have faith in God. I know I have not committed sins, and God knows my heart, and I know God will be with me in the end. We just have to keep our eyes on the future, always looking towards the future.”

He reminds me so much of my dad. And if someone was trying to steal my family’s homes, I would hate them too. I do not know if I would be as compassionate as Saleh. I do not know if I could do that.

Blessed is God, Creator of the Universe, who wipes away sleep from my eyes and slumber from my eyelids.