4 October, Jerusalem —
I am standing on the hill at the base of the Tolerance Monument in Jerusalem—hundreds, perhaps thousands, of white umbrellas below me. As far as the eye can see, there are Israelis and Palestinians. White, white, white umbrellas protect us from the heat of the sun and men’s bloodshed. Here, there is hope. Here, we are women.
Women Wage Peace, and her Palestinian sister movement, Women of the Sun. All of us together, in this garden of tolerance.
A woman representing Ireland speaks; I let my tears flow unconstrained. Somehow, after the Troubles, they made peace.
So can we, I think, so can we.
As the afternoon wanes into evening, we travel to the Dead Sea. Here, the event is even more beautiful, the backdrop of the sea against all the white clothing with turquoise scarves, belts, and necklaces. This time, music brings us to tears—so many speeches, songs, and videos of hope. My heart is breaking with the possibility.
7 October, Nimrod, Golan Heights —
Working for peace can be exhausting — the heaviness of conflict flowing through all our attempts to bring light. It’s time for a holiday.
On Saturday morning, I get up early to run, explore the area, and rid myself of my restlessness. Something has happened — sirens further south? My husband tells me to be careful. A familiar feeling of horror jumps down my throat and strangles me. Please make it stop soon, I pray.
We go to Nimrod Castle because we know something is going on; we don’t have reception in the hills. We climb the beautiful ruins, admire the views, and walk around the walls without knowing.
Yet.
I’m not sure this is true. Do I remember what it was like not to know? Do I remember what it was like when I still trusted in humanity at the heart of it all?
