Alyssa A. Lappen | February 23, 2001
I am a Jew. I am a poet. I am heartbroken. Next to God and Jerusalem, the thing most central to Judaism is peace. But my people’s fervent prayers for peace – embodied for millennia in every Jewish prayer – every one – again go begging, when they seemed at last so close to fruition. We find our homeland unwittingly immersed in another war, the sixth in Israel’s short life.
The United Nations years ago equated Zionism with the basest human emotion. Yet my most beloved friend, also a poet, was an Arab. Chris Khattar gave me priceless encouragement to renew the poetic voice I had lost for 15 years. Before he died of Hodgkin’s in 1992, I gave him a poem. I am also fortunate to count among my neighbors, colleagues, fellow-poets, like-minded parents and friends, other Muslims and Arabs, Christians, African Americans, East Indians, Native Americans, Hispanics, Chinese, Japanese, and people who are disabled, sightless, gay – anyone, in short, open to mutual respect and willing to bless me with kindness, intelligence, wisdom. By this Jewish precept – respect – I strive to conduct all my affairs.
Last spring I felt great pride in learning that my first chapbook, The People Bear Witness, would soon appear in a journal published by Catholic theologians along with work by a Palestinian poet. Honored to be in his company, I wrote him an email, kindly forwarded by our editor. I was heartened by his praise for my work, but disappointed by his failure to return my salutations – in Hebrew and Arabic – of peace. I had high hopes for the Camp David II talks then in progress; he signed note only, “Cheers.”
Months later as violence erupted, I extended a hand again – a small gesture I nevertheless felt necessary: Jewish theology requires small acts of goodness. These in turn can save lives – and each life is considered as an entire world. His reply pained me: On the one hand, he accepted my sincerity. On the other, he questioned it: “The Jews demand, rightly, apologies and compensation from those who wronged them. These are not part of Israel’s negotiating discourse. That is why, to tell you the truth, I find your signature at the end (Shalom, Salaam) too casual.” For every gain his people might make, he said, “we will pay a terrible price.” I wrote our editor, “When even poets cannot talk, we have a problem in Jerusalem.” I had no idea yet how big.
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