Israeli conflict tests ties that bind

"They stole my country," junior Nesim Serequeberhan says bitterly, "and I can't go back and live there myself." He continues speaking of his Palestinian homeland, his expression blank. "I want to go back there and see how things are. I want to see if there's anything I can do to help, violent or nonviolent."

A liberal activist, I would ordinarily jump at the chance to join Serequeberhan's cause: to protest, fundraise or do anything I could. But in this instance, something holds me back.

Perhaps it's the small, silver Star of David that I occasionally wear around my neck.

Until recently, I have always felt free to express my political and religious beliefs, even if those beliefs conflicted with one another. But in recent years, a disturbing sentiment within American society has silenced me on the topic of Israel. The reemergence of anti-Semitism here at home has forced liberal Jews like me to face a difficult choice over what to stand up for: our beliefs or our people.

According to a 2002 poll by the Institute for Jewish and Community Research, of Americans ages 18 to 35, 23 percent believe Jews are a "threat" to the moral fiber of the country, and 20 percent believe all Jews "care only about themselves."

Gary Tobin, the institute's president, credits this resurgence of American anti-Semitism to liberal-left outrage against Israeli policies, or, as he terms it, "the blurring of anti-Israelism and anti-Semitism on college campuses."

So even as I sympathize with members of the Palestinian community who face, in Serequeberhan's words, a "racist and oppressive" government, my outrage is matched by my desire to protect my cultural heritage and the people to which I belong.

Rabbi Michael Feshbach, leader of my congregation, echoes this ideological and cultural dichotomy. "I am schizophrenic about Israel," says Feshbach. "Whenever anyone says anything about Israel, I almost always disagree with it."

Feshbach, like me, finds many current Israeli policies repulsive but still considers himself a Zionist, one who supports the continued existence of Israel as a Jewish state. He fears many non-Jews may not understand his position. "I'm criticizing Israel because I believe in Israel and I believe it should act better," Feshbach says. "But the problem with criticizing Israel in public is that people will take your criticism to mean that Israel should not exist."

Israel's fate is so inextricably tied to the Jewish faith, says Feshbach, that its existence as a safe haven for Jews is "essential for the future and security of the Jewish people." Because of this, Feshbach feels an outright condemnation of Israel's right to exist discriminates against the Jewish people by disregarding the need for a Jewish state. "I do not accept the distinction between anti-Zionism and anti-Semitism. The long-term solution is two states living side by side."

Serequeberhan disagrees, classifying Zionism as a separate movement within Judaism. "I have no problem with Jews," he says. "I just hate Zionists. I have no problem saying that because it's a political point of view."

My own stance, influenced by both Zionism and liberalism, pushes me to agree with Feshbach. My fear of anti-Semitic repercussions and my religious ties to the holy land make me support, at least outwardly, a system that my mind tells me is wrong.

Huston West, America's preeminent religious scholar, wrote in 1966 that religion tends to exacerbate political differences. To say that the same applies to modern America‘s debate on Israel is a loaded claim.
But the anti-Israel sentiment among U.S. youth makes Feshbach wonder what it is that sparks such hatred for one particular oppressive government.

"If you were a Martian dropped into a college campus, you would find that there was one country on Earth that was ugly, brutal and didn't have a right to exist. And that country is Israel," Feshbach says. "But there's Venezuela, there's Iran, Rwanda. In Saudi Arabia, women aren't allowed to drive."

Serequeberhan, whose grandmother was evicted from her family's land upon Israel's creation in 1948, tells me of the special licenses, immigration restrictions and random searches that Palestinians are subjected to in Israel every day, confirming my perception of Israel's atrocious human-rights record.

My blood boils, my sense of justice outraged. But my connections to the holy land and the Jewish people keep me from speaking, binding me to Israel culturally and spiritually and, right now, tying my hands behind my back.