All in Jerusalem

Come 2017 - For We Shall Overcome

I’ve been thinking what I can share with you in this new year.  The past several weeks have been unusually difficult for me.  Like most couples, my husband and I work very hard, pouring countless hours into our professions and into our family.  When we go on vacation, we often go with our young children.  This time, my husband I decided to take a trip alone, a short getaway to Paris.  

Capitalizing on Fear

The other day as I arrived to my car, I noticed a flier set on the window. I didn’t pay it any attention. It was only a few hours later, after arriving to my destination that I looked a little closer. As I examined the images, I was very disturbed. The ad said:

Intifada Conversations: The Frustrating, Confusing and Encouraging

Terrible times like those we have experienced this past fall/winter in Israel-Palestine can shake us to our cores. What emerges can bring out the best or the worst in us. More often than not, I think it brings out both simultaneously -- we often turn inward to support our loved ones and our own people, and exhibit fear and suspicion toward those who are part of the other. Here are a few conversations I have been a part of that have offended, frustrated, moved and encouraged me.

The “Intifada” and a Heart Torn in Two

The sounds of sirens and helicopters seem to have intruded the air all around me in Jerusalem, interrupting life on a consistent basis. As I drive my children to their daycare, I am suddenly passed by dozens of emergency vehicles. I arrive and find that, sure enough, another attack has taken place just down the street. It’s not the first time, and everyone is worried. Another desperate Palestinian teenager with a knife has been shot dead and a Jewish civilian is seriously injured with wounds inflicted by the knife in the dead teenager’s hand, his life likely forever changed and scarred.

When the preacher doubts

During the height of violence, I was struck by a force that I had felt only a few times in the past. The first time was in university when someone had ignited my apartment’s front door with gasoline and I had so much adrenaline pumping trying to control the fire. The force stayed way longer than the actual fire. The second time I felt it was at my uncle’s house when a sniper had just fired a rubber bullet at him, and all of us at the house ducked instinctively. Then the rush of adrenaline helped us find a way to get my uncle to the hospital for treatment. That same force stayed with me longer than it took for his wounds to heal.

Jerusalem: A Hope in Hell


Startled, I jolted out of my sleep, sitting up as our walls and windows shuddered at the residual impact of a bomb. It was early, still dark. What could be happening? After an hour of scrolling through Facebook and news sites, I found an article reporting a terrorist’s house demolition.