Ben Kamin

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The latest round of bombings, rocket attacks, airstrikes — sparked in part by the abductions and killings of three Israeli teenagers and a Palestinian teen — make hope for peace seem as impossible as these outrages against innocents are beyond reprehensible. My nephews and nieces in Israel and their peers in Gaza run for cover and cower in fear. Both sides are killing the future.

Each time we suffer through this, I think even more about a little dialogue I had a long time ago with a Palestinian neighbor.

In the fall of 1961, I was 8 years old and living in the Israeli hamlet of Kfar Saba, where my parents and I were born.…  Seguir leyendo »

It's different each time, the sensation driven by my religious body temperature at the moment, each occasion leavened by the vicissitudes of life, by doubt, skepticism, spiritual immobility or vague rhapsody — and certainly by my own vanities. One first has to get past the sense of being an intruder, even if one is incontrovertibly Jewish, because the landlords of Jerusalem's Western Wall, a conglomerate of stern, bearded men from a variety of ecclesiastic tribes, are rather possessive of their default contract with the place.

They scold you with their fierce eyes if you don't have a skullcap (though never examining your heart), they imperiously ask you for money as if to pay for your unworthiness, and they seem resigned to the presence of sincere folks who are neither dressed for the 17th century nor given to the very judgmental tendencies that controvert the entire thesis of prayer.…  Seguir leyendo »