Conclusions of an Israeli liberal, Two Stater, Zionist, that went to a CUFI summit.

“How many more of our children will we have to send to die in Israel?” the pastor was rallying the crowd, informing them once again about the threat of radical Islam.  Here was a Christian American Evangelical preacher, telling me and the American crowd that the IDF soldiers belonged to them.  A former me, my friends and students currently serving, had all been brought under the paternalistic umbrella of Christian Zionism.  I was their son.  I assumed that it was a price Israel must pay for the Christian money being poured on the so called support of Israel, they paid for the merchandise, and now they own it. Thanks dads.

“How many American soldiers have died in the last century on Israeli soil?” the next break out session had begun.  The speaker was a Jewish politician speaking to our minds, not our faith.  He claimed to give us tools to be able to participate in the intellectual debate about why to support Israel. ”The correct answer is none. And how many have died in Iraq and Afghanistan? We lost Four thousand four hundred soldiers.”  He draws out the numbers, prolongs the anguish just enough to get a somewhat distraught but yet patriotic expression on the younger and elderly faces in the crowd.  When it was intellectual speak, IDF soldiers weren’t their sons anymore.  IDF soldiers who died weren’t counted in the battle against radical Islam, unless it was in monetary terms.  An American soldier in Iraq would cost the US taxpayer not only for his equipment and deployment, but for his health care when he got home, for his social security payments, and for his PTSD treatments.  But an IDF soldier was apparently exactly 11 times cheaper. How ironic, as Romney understood this week, to praise Israel’s governmentally subsidized health care as costing the American taxpayer less, in front of a crowd that would repeal “ObamaCare” in a heartbeat,

  “You see supporting Israel is the cheapest and most effective form of foreign policy.  Iraq and Afghanistan will total in 4.3 trillion dollars to the US taxpayer. Afghanistan has stated publically that it will fight with Pakistan in a theoretic war with the US.  So what is 3.1 billion dollars in US aid for Israel in return for an ally we can always trust?”  Israel was a settlement of America in the wild wild Middle East, according to CUFI.  It was referred to just as Gush Katif had been referred to prior to its evacuation in 2005. It was an outpost of values that draws the attacks from the savages, so that in Israel proper people could be safe.  The settlers in Gush Katif and Hebron were martyrs who knowingly placed their lives in the midst of the conflict, so that I would be safe.  All of Israel, according to the Christian Zionist narrative was an extension of the settlements. We were God’s people placed there in order to draw out the wrath of the barbaric relics of the pre-modern world.  Israel was the religious and political spearhead that worked in the favor of the true lords of the world – America the Great.  Israel was a cheap bargain for American aspirations of maintaining its global hegemony, at the low price of 3.1 billion dollars a year and zero American lives.

I wasn’t sure who was a bigger cynic, who had manipulated the situation to work on its behalf better.  Was it the politicians who adopted the faith in order to mobilize the masses who attended church every Sunday, or whether it was the church that commandeered the politicians to do "God’s" work.  It was definitely a little bit of both, and it worked marvelously. CUFI had achieved 1.1 million members in its six years of existence; it donated over 50 million dollars a year to Israel, and was able to lobby with 95 of 100 US senators, and with over 300 congressmen at this conference.  Israel was no longer, a Jewish issue, it was a Christian issue in a Christian Nation.

 All they had to do now was figure out if IDF soldiers were actually their sons or not.  But if they were able to figure out how Jesus was God, Son of God, and Holy Spirit all at the same time; If they were able to convince the whole Roman Empire that Jesus who died on the cross, did literally rise again, only to be waiting for them in the sky when they die, with his pop; If they were able to convince modern people, living in the “freest country in the world”, to enslave themselves to a personal relationship with Jesus Christ.  Then I’m sure they can iron out the duplicity of Israelis being both their sons and not their sons.  A little Iran shaking here, a little American execptionalism twist there and it will make perfect sense to everyone.

As I had been told by a speaker at the conference, don’t assume that because you lived in Israel for most your life that Israel is more yours than mine.  I guess my country had been taken out of my own hands, and been transformed into an American colony.  According to Christian Zionists, Israel had been annexed as the 51^st state in order to keep Judeo-Christian control over the tomb of the patriarchs. And just like all the other 50 states, Israel is entitled to its own laws, and to say suck it to the federal government.  I'm sure most Israeli's would rejoice to this notion, especially because so many Israelis are fiercely looking for an international passport for when the Zionist project falls apart. I’m sure most of Tel Aviv would gladly trade places with these so called Zionists.  The Christians should all come to Israel as soon as possible and play out their romantic idea of settling wild places in the name of god. Maybe when Israel will officially be a Christian state, it will get the idea of Jewish sovereignty out of the Jewish silly head, and send the Jews to do what historically Jews do best – exile and trade. 

The duplicity and inner contradictions, where the Christian Zionist logic was leading to, and the mobilization of masses left me dumbfounded.  On the last day of the conference, when we they all went to Capitol Hill to lobby our congressmen, I stayed in my hotel room and numbed my thoughts with massive doses of TV.  I couldn't face the Congressmen and Senators with these people, even though I agreed with the broad talking points of Israel support.  I was disenchanted by how easy people could be manipulated and lost hope that I could change anything.

In the past two weeks since my return from the conference I have slowly been able to leave behind the pessimism and distrust that had gripped my existence, and return slowly to sanity.  By reading articles by people who shared my opinion, and talking to friends and family in real Israel instead of the envisioned version created by Christian Zionism, I gradually returned to good sense.  But I had also learned that my so-called moderate stance on the conflict was being eroded. Cynicism and manipulation were the predominant tools in the world I thrived to be a part of, and I question my ability to partake in it now.  I still want to believe that I can stand tall in the midst of this epic struggle, and portray a moderate message, but I also realize what I’m facing.

An Israeli liberal, Two Stater, Zionist, goes to CUFI summit to figure out why evangelicals support Israel - Day 3

Day 3 –

The student portion of the conference had ended.  A long line of respected Christians and men wearing a kippah, a long beard and carrying massive shofars who I assumed were Jewish (but weren’t necessarily) started coming to the breakout sessions.  The apparently fairly moderate rhetoric had turned instantaneously into a more inflammatory and inciting one.  We started all over again as the same narrative was laid out to us, grown up style.  There was no need for “education” any more. The people who had paid 250$ just to get into the conference didn’t need that.  The choir had arrived to be preached at, and they didn’t miss the chance for a standing ovation every time, on cue.

At his point I had given up.  I wasn’t a leader and no revolution would start here.  There was nothing to add, and no questions to ask.  Every time I thought I might have the courage to stand up and challenge the speaker in front of this fierce crowd, I gave up and walked out of the session.  There was no point to it.  I would instead go and sit in front of my computer on the floor of the convention center, as if in silent protest, to try to write down my thoughts, but I couldn’t.  Nothing came out.  For the first time in a while I was without words.

I knew that I was a moderate; and I fought to stay within the outlines of my convictions, to stick to realpolitik and remember that these people could be allies.  They were supporting a cause I objectively agreed with, to support Israel.  But I also intimately knew the details, and couldn’t keep hearing such crass justifications without recognizing the suffering my country was causing. I would silently pull out my “Breaking the Silence” booklet of testimonies of IDF soldiers from the west bank in Hebrew.  I would read another testimony of looting, of senseless aggression, and of abuse.  I thought about these young 19 years old kids who were me not too long ago. They all reminded me of my older brother who went silent for three years while serving in Hebron, because he couldn’t share his experiences with anyone.  Whether it was due to shame or just a lack of coping mechanisms to this day I don’t know.  But I also couldn’t help but to go back to the presentation that showed what the support for Israel is dealing with on campuses in the US. Among other things it showed a video of a young female college student yelling at the top of her lungs “Go back to Auschwitz!  Jews are committing another holocaust! He (Hitler I assume) should have completed the job!”  It was beyond hate, it was blind rage inspired by actions I felt the need to take responsibility for. But what could I do with senseless loathing in a video, a reality I could not agree with that people were confronting.  I was reminded of the stories I had heard from so many friends about incidents from their IDF service in Hebron. The settlers would instigate Palestinians by splashing water or throwing rocks and it immediately turned into an incident in front of their eyes. Within seconds rocks would start flying from side to side enraged with hate, detest and mouthful of curses in mixed Arabic and Hebrew. My friends were caught in the middle of a raging fight, helpless to calm each side down.  They weren’t allowed to shoot at the instigating settlers, and according to their orders they could open fire only if their lives were threatened, and that would mean towards the Palestinians only.  Of course they were reluctant to open fire on anyone, but all they had to try to calm a storm of rocks above their heads were their M-16’s, which were useless in this battle. 

There was no room for moderates in this conversation anymore. The discourse had been hijacked. It had been hijacked by messianic settlers who believed that the death of their children was a price to pay for the lord’s work. It had been hijacked by Palestinians who refused to settle with a reality that had changed in the past 64 years of Israel’s existence.  It had been hijacked by Israel’s mainstream that had given up on hoping for peace and settling for the “harsh reality” that there would never be a peaceful solution.  It had been hijacked by Palestinians who had given up on the idea of peace and concluded that the only language Israel understands is violence.  Justice stopped meaning attaining a situation that could benefit everyone; it just means that each side was right. Period.

 The rocks of propaganda were flying above my head, but the tools at my disposal were irrelevant.  All I had to offer was a dialogue, a true discourse of people with the will to resolve an issue. I wanted to bestow upon the people surrounding me the understanding that there’s more to it than selling stories to a biased, blood thirsty crowd.  That there was more to it than angry mobs, fighting like children for their right to exist.  That justice could be made only by recognizing your faults and your error.  But this was neither the time nor the place for it. Ironically, we weren’t even in Israel, but rather Washington DC, and the time for reconciliation had not arrived yet.

The question I found myself asking was I am really naïve? Was there any room left for someone like me who desired to overcome the fear and hesitation, and actually sit down and talk.  It’s a slippery slope once you choose a side, down the path of extremism and a lack of recognition of “the other side”.  I started to doubt, not whether there was room for me at this conference, but if the me’s out there still existed, or whether we had been vanquished and exhausted by an intifada and two wars in one short decade.  I wondered whether my eternal hope was still of relevance or whether it was simply naiveté, a remnant of my deeply ideological past.

As I left another session in the middle, not able to bear another outburst of shofars and suits applauding for an eternal unified Jerusalem, I realized that hope should not be vanquished by despair.  That it is a belief, not based on reality but rather on a desire and a call for action. I realized that it was the closest to Jesus, yahwe, and Jah I would ever get. It is a belief that people can change from the power of a discussion, from sitting in front of a person and conversing. I may not be have been able to do that at this conference, but I know that it is a way of life I have chosen, and I will not despair because of the fanatics.

David Brog, the Executive Director I had put on the spot on the first day, had asked me what I thought about the 5 Two-State solutions that had failed.  He implied that it was the Palestinians fault they didn’t have a nation of their own, and that we “lefties” should stop blaming Israel. I answered that we could play the “blame game” all day, and I could probably prove how at least 4 out of five of these so-called offers were bogus, but that it didn’t matter.  What matters is that for there to be a home for me to go back to, there had to be a sixth offer, and if necessary a seventh and an eighth.  

An Israeli liberal, Two Stater, Zionist, goes to CUFI summit to figure out why evangelicals support Israel - Day 2

Day 2 –

I am an optimist. I really am.  So when David Brog told me that he was glad I was here and that he wished there were more center- left Zionists who came to support Israel, I thought he meant it.  Maybe that was the worst mistake I made throughout the whole conference, to believe for a second that there was room for me and my opinions here within this organization.

So there I was, at the Christians United for Israel conference in DC.  I wasn’t a Christian, and I didn’t feel united with any of the staunch Republicans and supporters of Israel’s far right. The only thing I thought I had in common was the Israel issue, but their Israel and mine were quite different in essence, since their Israel was a fiction created by dogma and mine was based on a real living experience.

 “Wow, what was it like, to serve in the IDF? Do you know Krav Maga?” was a constant question. They reminded me of my dear old friend Trooper Horton’s slightly lax jaw, the half risen eyebrow and general astonishment in their eyes when they found out I was an actual veteran of the IDF.  But I was happy to keep getting that question, because this time I had a better answer, and these guys weren’t state officials.  I couldn’t get enough of the twitch-like fashion in which their inspired, awe stricken look turned into horror every single time. “It sucked” I would tell them, “It really sucked, can you imagine being told what to do, what to wear, every single day for three long years?  And then there’s the whole occupying another nation thing, which kinda sucks too.”  But I was authentic, and some (not all, but some) of these kids went to college to be critical thinkers, so they wanted to hear everything, including my story too.  I started to get a following, and to be approached fairly often.  People starting coming to me to confirm the facts in the recent lecture and why it was wrong, or at least extremely biased. “We heard that Mr. Brog said we shouldn’t have paid for your scholarship, but we think it’s great you’re here” Whitney from Kansas told me, with her three bleach blonde friends nodding vigorously in the background.  I was the dude in business casual with dreads, I was the dude who talked back to the ED of CUFI on opening night, I was the dude who was really from Israel and served in the IDF.  Everything was in place and now it was time to start fighting back.

“Hey, we hear that you’re from Israel, can we sit down and talk to you?”  I was approached by a man who seemed to be Middle Eastern with tattoos in Aramaic I had noticed the day before on the elevator.  “Well of course, let’s go sit down over there.” He was accompanied by two younger African students and another American.  They told me that they had heard me standing up to David Brog, and presenting a well informed opinion about the option of a peaceful resolution in the Middle East based on a two state solution.  Steven, the big Middle Eastern guy told me that he was an Iraqi Christian, and introduced the guys sitting with him from Kenya, Nigeria and the American from some obscure mid-western city.  They told me that they loved what I was saying and were hoping to reach out and try to conceive a more moderate organization that will emphasize the acknowledgment of the “other side” and promote a more peaceful message than the warrior like stance that CUFI has in defense of Israel.  We sat down and exchanged opinions and ideas for an hour or so about how there must be more interfaith dialogue and disagreed about the demonization of Muslims that CUFI was presenting as part of its pro-Israel narrative. 

I was on the move, and I began my first conscious political move I had ever made.  I was coordinating the skeptics at the conference.  The students were divided into the ones who came because it was free, but were highly skeptical about this kind of organization, and the others who have completely given their lives to Christ and are of the staunch, AIPAC style supporters with a religious zeal.  The latter group was hopeless, my interactions with them ended with me preaching about the necessity to understand and reach out, to which they regurgitated the CUFI material. “But Israel has given enough” and “Israel had suffered so much”, there was no one to talk to there.  But the former group could be organized and I was destined to be their ring leader – I decided that I should be the voice of sanity, of moderation. 

Before the second session started I talked to a girl who told me she was also going to “The failures of the UN to fulfill its duties”.  She told me she thought the UN was evil and just a stupid organization.  I asked whether she thought that world peace was a bad idea, and how it could be achieved in any other way but through such an organization.  She shrugged in a “I don’t know” kind of response, and was immediately labeled “religious zealot – no hope” by yours truly.  Ami Horowitz, a Jewish guy from Brooklyn had made a movie about the UN and shared his haphazard conclusions with the crowd.  He had no idea that he was playing into their preconceived bias that indeed the UN was not only stupid but actually evil. It has been identified by several Christian prophecy writers, aka pre-millennial dispensationalists, as the beast from Revelations, and recognized as the forces of the north that will destroy Israel.  To be truthful, I’m pretty sure most of the college students didn’t know this either, but there was definitely a highly skeptical attitude towards the UN in the crowd.  It was merged by American execptionalism, bible prophecies and neo-con anti liberal sentiment that was preached in every Republican assembly and pulpit these people had attended in their lives. 

But the pseudo intellectuals and politicized debates took a back seat when the evening arrived.  It was time for an emotional outburst of love for Israel, which can be justified by the one most horrific act in history that makes everything okay – the Holocaust.  Irving Roth is of the dying breed of holocaust survivors who can still stand in front of a crowd, at 83, and tell a magnificent story.  He shared the horrors he had survived, and laid down the emotional ground work for Israel’s right to exist.  The teary eyes were accompanied by a stifled whimper when the proud Christian crowd understood that the people who committed these horrendous crimes were of the same faith.  They all felt guilty for what had been done, but Irving Roth gave them an outlet for redemption.  “We are in 1938 again, and Iran is the new Germany,” his head bowed and glazed eyes pierced through the crowd in face of the potential terror the Jews were facing in Israel once again.  “Radical Islam is trying to tear Israel and the US apart, but I know that because of you Israel will survive!” In a unanimous act, as if they were prepared their whole life for this moment, everyone stood and applaud. They were given a mission, to save the Jews.  They had had their pastor and their politician, their ma and pop and their Jesus tell them before.  But now it was a man who had been to hell on earth tell them that Israel was in peril, and that they must act to save it.  And once again, not a word of apology, not a word of recognition that there was a little bit more to it; it was that simple – if you wanted to save the world, you must support Israel.

That standing ovation marked the beginning of end for me. My hopes of being a leader of the rebellion faded more quickly than I had expected.  The rhetoric I encountered throughout that day could have come from any Likud, Lieberman or Mafdal party representative.  The narrative of supporting Israel was entrenched with hatred. “We are in a clash of civilizations!” was repeatedly drilled into our heads, reviving Samuel Huntington from the grave.  “Israel has the covenantal right to all of Israel!” Rabbi Riskin, the Rabbi of Efrat roared into the microphone to which the crowd bellowed back enthusiastically and the sounds of a shofar echoed the crowd’s vigorous applause.  I was facing forces a lot more powerful than my so called authenticity.  From that point on my battle was not one of hope from the people at the conference, but an inner struggle to still believe in people, in peace, and in moderation.

 Not quite sure who won yet. 

An Israeli liberal, Two Stater, Zionist, goes to CUFI summit to figure out why evangelicals support Israel

Day 1

I wanted to be a spy, a gonzo style journalist infiltrating the system from within, learning about the coming apocalypse, and how all the Jews would die when the rapture happened.  I wanted to be that person who cracks the system from within and reveals the awful truths about radical right wing evangelical Christians who support Israel for its own destruction.  I wanted to be that guy who finds out the so called truth, without revealing my identity.  But that’s not who I am.  As I have been defining myself to the largest crowd of staunch Republicans I had ever interacted with, I am a moderate Israeli Jew who just wants the option of peace to still be on the table so when I have kids, I won’t have to send them to the army too. 

The reality about CUFI and a conference of such magnitude is that they have learned from the attacks against them. They no longer voice their doomsday prophecies, they don’t talk about eschatology.  They voice a single issue message of professed loved to Israel.  They utilize their vast Christian infrastructure to promote that love to thousands of churches. The reasons and interpretations for their so-called love are as diverse as their churches are. But one thing was sure, they can’t afford to make that mistake of being wackos; after all they are the largest pro-Israel organization in the US, counting over 1.1 million members. The only speaker who said that Jews will go to hell because they don’t accept Christ got kicked out of the convention, and we all got a formal apology and I got a personal one from the only other Jew around.  That Jew also just happens to be the Executive Director of Christian Unite for Israel.  They base the religious support on a passage in the bible, from genesis in which god says to Abraham “I will bless those that bless you, and curse those that curse you.”  I don’t think there was one speaker who hadn’t mentioned that passage at least once.   The biblical justification is present in the conference, but it is almost harmless.  Two months of studying Chrisitian theology, and my dreams of gonzo reporting went down the drain.  I assumed positions for an intellectual battle, and was quite thrilled because I didn’t stand a chance in a theological one.

So if they weren’t crazy Christians, I could speak freely and open my mind to seek out an alliance, after all they were Israel supporters and so was I.  I went to the first break out session titled “The Arab-Israeli Conflict and the 5 No’s.”  It was David Brog, the Jewish executive Director of CUFI, teaching young impressionable students who knew nothing about Israel, the history of the Arab refusal in 40 minutes.  “Israel has offered Palestinians an independent state 5 times.  Each time they reject a proposal it ends in disaster for both Israel and Arab.”  The narrative he created was clear - suggesting peace is disastrous for Israel, and the Palestinians are not interested in a peaceful resolution.  The natural conclusion I reached was that he was rejecting a two state solution, so I decided to confront him with a question about what a viable solution would be that would allow Israel to stay both Democratic and Jewish under one state.  I stood up politely and asked my question, to which he roared that he had never even implied that he was against a two state solution, and said that it was up to Israel to decide. Concealing my agitation and out roar became unbearable as he gleefully went on to the next question from the audience.  I reluctantly raised my arm again, obviously revealing my unease.  He gave me the floor once again, pointing out that I obviously had something to say.  “What about the moderate forces” I asked, “don’t you think there’s room for promoting dialogue in order to maintain the option of a two state solution by supporting Palestinian economic growth.  I only ask because I am an Israeli, and I want to live in peace in my country.”  It was out; I had revealed to the ED of the organization both my liberal nature, and my origin in one single question.  He looked at me suspiciously as a politician under an unexpected attack in front of a delicate crowd that needed to be steered toward the right answer, and it was too early to be imposing the true complexities of the issue in front of them.  “Are you here on a scholarship?” he asked me, “if so, we shouldn’t have paid for you.”  He continued to answer my question that there were no moderate forces in the west bank right now and that it will require a generation or two before it could happen.  Frustrated, I resolved to lay low and approach him after it ended.  When I approached him, he politely told me that he was glad that I was here, but still shouldn’t have paid for me.  I explained my views and he brushed them off as naïve.  I had taken a stand and people had noticed. 

The problem with his narrative was there were no moderate forces, there was no Palestine, and there was no occupation.  But their Israel was also definitely not the Israel I grew up in.  There was no dialogue about the character of Israel, or historic processes, there was no diversity or poverty in their Israel, there was no geography or borders in their Israel. at some point I wasn’t sure if they were talking about the same place I had lived my whole life, the country I had served for three years and the country that I call home.  Their Israel was a mystified pseudo-reality that they needed to love because their pastor told them so.  Their Israel was a myth that has been disseminated by neo-cons who believe there cannot be peace and work within the “Clash of Civilizations” paradigm. Their Israel was a fable that linked Abraham, Moses and Jesus with Ben Gurion, Begin and Rabin directly, without recognizing a giant leap both in the chronology of history and of faith.  Their Israel was an easy story to sell in a post “Citizens United” World, in which the American society can be bought quite easily with the right face, idea and a shit ton of money.  Their Israel united all denominations of Christianity from Pentecostals to LDS (Mormons), it united the so called Judeo-Christian civilization, it united Republicans and Democrats, and they were united under the lifted banners of war.  They were in a war against an enemy who didn’t recognize their narrative, so why should they recognize ours, or theirs, or whoever’s narrative they claimed to hold.  They were selling a product that the Israeli explaining/advocacy/propaganda office, aka Hasbara, was failing at – Israel has a right to exist.  Period. 

And it’s true, Israel has a right to exist.  But the whole period thing, no why, no conditions, no criticism. That’s the part I couldn’t live with, and the one I couldn’t keep my mouth shut about. 

it starts.

“Hey, I’m Daniel. I’m from Asheville North Carolina.”

“Hey, I’m Daniel. I currently live in Asheville North Carolina but originally I’m from Israel”

“Hey, I’m Daniel.  I’m from Israel but I currently live in Asheville North Carolina.”

“Hey I’m Daniel.  I’m from Israel, I just moved to the US a couple of years ago and now I go to UNC Asheville.”

“Hey, I’m Daniel.  Where I’m from?  That’s a tough question, I was born here in the states, but I’ve lived in Israel my whole life.  I just moved back to the states two years ago.  I go to UNC Asheville now. “

In 45 minutes I’m going to go downstairs, to the lobby and meet my new Christian friends for the week.  We’re all going to the holocaust museum together, how appropriate.  At this point what I’m thinking about the most is how to introduce myself.  Usually I would just approach the situation and see what comes out, but on this occasion it also symbolizes what my approach towards this whole conference is going to be.  This is what I must decide in the next, now 35 minutes I have left (it took me a while to decide how to start this post).

The main difference is how much I want to reveal about myself, and how vulnerable I will be through each introduction.   Highlighting my “Israeliness” is bound to get me into some awkward questioning right at the beginning about why I’m here and what my opinions are, which I have chosen to try my best not lie about.  But not mentioning it at a conference that is about “supporting Israel” would be not only overly nonchalant, but would incur further questioning on the other participants part as to why I hadn’t mentioned it earlier.  So it seems like the middle path would probably be the best approach, in which I share my origin but I do it intentionally nonchalantly and try to lay low for the first two days. 

The only problem is that I don’t know how to lay low.

I guess I’ll wing it then.

Why I bought a suit for the first in my life

The first of many posts to come about my experiences at the annual Christians United for Israel conference.

“There ain’t never gonna peace no peace in Israel, I can tell you that for a fact because my pastor told me so. The Jews in Israel are fighting against the sons of Ishmael, and there just can’t never be no peace in Israel. “  It wasn’t accompanied by an apology, there was no sense of acknowledgement  about the fact that he was talking about my life and my family, but most of all there was no doubt, no hesitation – it was a religious conviction. There will never be peace in Israel because his pastor, his church, his rural life in Shelby, North Carolina had delivered this celestial message to him through Christ himself.  And who was I to argue with Christ, especially when his emissary here on earth just happened to also be a state trooper and had just summoned me to court for a speeding violation. At that moment I was to him the representative of a holy people, a transcendental force that will hasten the return of his lord and savior, and he was to me a representative of the earthly law that I respected and was bound by.  Trooper Horton was the judge, jury and executioner of a divine trial that I had unknowingly partaken, and I was found guilty.  My sentence was eternal strife in the holy land and 250 dollars. I wasn’t sure which one I resented more.

Maybe I had brought it upon myself by trying to play a card that should not be dealt out so easily as I had tried in rural North Carolina.  I had resided in Asheville, NC for a year before this incident, but the liberal Hippie gem of the South is apparently far from being a genuine representative of the true Evangelical South.  I had tried to explain to Trooper Horton that the reason I was speeding was because I had just been stuck at the airport in New York City for the past 36 hours after an eleven hour flight from Israel and all I wanted was to get home.  I saw the sudden glaze in his eyes when I had spoken the word Israel to him as if I had at once become both an object of admiration and detest.  He instinctively asked me if he could ask me a question about the conflict in Israel and what my opinion was on it.  The question was designed to test to which of the two I should be deemed – am I a self loathing hippie liberal which obviously fit my seemingly neglected appearance or whether I was a proud Jew adequate of fulfilling his hope of retrieving his lord and savior from his self inflicted exile until my people returned to the holy land.  Obviously I made the mistake of attempting to be politically correct and stating that both Israel and the Palestinians had wronged each other and that I hope for peace.  My sheer lack of aptitude in reading the situation and understanding who I was dealing with and where I was earned me a grave fine and everlasting damnation.  I had never thought that peace could be the wrong answer, but on this issue, apparently, peace was not an option.  

After he returned to his vehicle and I was left awe stricken, I attempted to process the experience and label it.  Had I just experienced anti-Semitism? He had spoken to me in a paternalistic tone as if he was trying to protect me from the mistake of hoping for peace, it had no hint of hatred but rather genuine concern.   I also wondered why such a person had taken such interest in my homeland, which was the size of Connecticut and far across the ocean, when he had probably never left Shelby County in his life.  Why had I become the object of such interest and how could Israel invoke such emotion from a man whose stated goal in life was to feed his family, get home safe and maybe one day afford a vacation? The encounter did not fit any of the classic paradigms I had learned about in school.

Later that summer I got in my car and drove across the US from my current home in Asheville, NC to New Mexico in the south and Wyoming in the north.  I had two rules upon my trip – I will not pay for lodging and my daily expenses (not including gas) would be limited to 10 dollars a day.  By pitching my tent in national forests and with the gracious help of couch surfing hosts I had a chance to engage with a broad spectrum of Americans.  College students and frat parties, a free three day rafting trip across Cataract Canyon in Southern Utah, a guided visit to the Mormon temple and the highlight was of course a three day long Evangelical Christian seminar for men in Estes Park, Colorado.  I named my experience “My secretinvestigations as a pseudo gonzo reporter from the heart of the protestant establishment.” I secretly blogged every day about my experiences, gaining my first insights about evangelical Christianity and began to decipher why Trooper Horton had addressed me with such reverence and prestige at first which later became disdain once I had revealed my so called self-loathing nature as a Jew. I vowed not to make the same mistake again on this encounter, but rather took in all they had to offer including their outstanding food (after living on ten dollars a day for two months), their gracious bed and clean linen (after sleeping on couches and in tents for two months), and of course their decree of servitude to their lord and savior. I was engaged in lively conversations in which I was the subject of fascination and curiosity.  They asked about the holy land, and how it felt to live there.  They allowed me to study with them, and concluded that I was “an intelligent young man, who provides a great service of good to the world”, and of course ended with “so why don’t you accept Jesus Christ into your life to ensure an eternal life in heaven.”  I politely declined their offer and left at the end of the seminar on good terms, but without revealing any real information about my identity by misspelling my name on the contact sheet.  My desire to continue travelling had relinquished and I returned to Asheville to begin my freshman year of college at the University of North Carolina at the young age of 27. It was clear to me that I would learn Political Science and Economics in school because those were the tools with which I apprehended the world.  As a secular Israeli Jew I revere the tedious forces of politics and money to have the greatest influence on society, but my thirst for Christian theology had not been quenched. I decided to investigate the connection between the divine and the mundane through my homeland, which also just happens to be the source of it all. 

A year later, after completing my scholarly obligations to UNC Asheville, on my annual visit home to Israel I decided that I must finally delve into this issue and understand it.  I purchased all the books Amazon had to offer that included in their title both the words evangelism and Israel.  I sat down and adamantly read through every title I could get a hold of and started to map out where theology and politics meet. Although it was clear that the theoretic knowledge I had gained through my readings was invaluable, I felt a strong urge to complement it with yet another firsthand experience.  After just a short time reading it became clear, Christian support of Israel was located primarily under the umbrella of an organization called CUFI – Christians United for Israel.  Pastor John Hagee of Cornerstone Church in San Antonio, Texas founded the organization in order to promote financial and political support of Israel. Today it is the largest pro-Israel organization in the US and claims to be able to garner support from hundreds of thousands of Americans.   The readings had taught me about pre-millennial dispensationalists, a hideous term that describes a brand of Christianity that believes in Old and New Testament prophecies about the imminent return of Christ in our days.  I learned how the Six-Day War in Israel was part of that prophecy and that end times were nigh.  I learned that 41 percent of Americans today believe in the Rapture- a violent event popularized by the Left Behind series which has sold over 65 million copies.  Of course I assumed immediately that Evangelical support of Israel was targeted towards bringing the battle of Armageddon upon us, at the trivial cost of two thirds of the Jews dying in this terrible war and the remaining third converting to Christianity.  But it was too simplistic, and I knew that the “all powerful Jewish Lobby” would never allow such blatant anti-Semitism to garner such support in America, in particular because the looming past of the Holocaust and its crystallized message Pastor Hagee often repeats – “never again”.  

I could no longer write off the phenomena of Christian Zionism as a fringe brand of Christianity, because its political and financial influence had made it the biggest pro-Israel organization in the US, but I could also not longer write it off as anti-Semitic.  Its ties to Jewish organizations who gladly accepted both their money and their theology, resolving the prophecies for literally the end of times, and when (not if) the Messiah returns “we’ll just ask him if it’s his first or second time to Jerusalem.”  But where was the money going?  What does support of Israel mean in times of almost consecutive right wing “pro-land, pro-defense” governments in Israel since the assassination of Israeli Prime Minister Itzchak Rabin? Were the millions of dollars that CUFI raises annually going toward support of democratic Israel or non democratic Israel, as Peter Beinart has recently labeled the Israel’s regime in the Occupied Territories.  Was it funding the resurrection of the third temple on the temple mount, the most contested 40 acres of land in the world, or was it funding the return of Jews from the Soviet Union and Ethiopia? Although hesitantly, for the latter I would agree to such an unholy alliance, but an alliance to resurrect the temple in the current political climate is an alarming attempt to bring Armageddon upon us.

Too many questions were left unanswered through the books I had been reading.  They all focused on the United States and were oblivious to Israeli politics, and to what Evangelical support of Israel really amounted to in the realpolitik of Israel’s existence.  The conclusion was that I must see this for myself, with my own two eyes.  I applied for a scholarship to the annual CUFI conference in DC.  On the application form I told them I was Jewish, I was Israeli; I had served in the IDF and wanted to support Israel on my campus this coming year.  I didn’t mention that I was a liberal Zionist, that I believe in a two state solution, and that I believe that Israel is committing horrible crimes against humanity in the occupied territories.  I did not share my belief that the continued occupation was an act of national suicide resulting in an Israel that was either non-democratic or non-Jewish; both are realities I refuse to accept.  I was reluctant to reveal that I would much rather prefer a viable peace agreement in which I know that my future in Israel is safe rather than Israeli control of East Jerusalem and the Dome of the Rock.   Trooper Horton had taught me an extremely valuable lesson – share only what people will agree with.  I was granted a full scholarship to the conference. 

Tomorrow I leave for Washington DC, to hang out for five days with evangelical Christians from all over the US.  I’m still not sure what I’m going to do there, and what my place is in a conference titled – Christians United for Israel.  But I already bought a suit at the local Goodwill for eleven dollars, so I guess I’m going to find out soon enough.

 I think I’ll end with a valuable quote from one of my favorite artists “yah yah yay, it’s a party in the USA”.

Until then,

I will sign off with my pseudo gonzo name, on my way to another pseudo gonzo adventure

I.N trigue

pesudo gonzo experiences - revised edition

During my year in school i rewrote my blog post about my times at the bible school, and thought it would be a good idea to post the revised edition because i believe it is exponentially better.  so here it is, enjoy:

Experiences as a pseudo Gonzo reporter from the heart of the Protestant establishment

July 30^th 2011- Day 1

After driving for almost 7 hours I decided to head towards the Rocky Mountain National Forest where I could to spend another pleasant night of bliss and solitude in my tent. Only after deciding on a destination had I noticed, maybe for the first time since getting into Colorado, how the dark jagged rock conveyed a message of ruthlessness and cruelty while still having a tender appeal. Millions of years had brought this single speck of the vast Rocky Mountains to its present state, but that same rock seemed so numb and disregarding of the human history and its attempts to conquer a mountain that has, and always will be, unwilling to be subjugated to such an unworthy force. How these rocks were a force to be reckoned with I found out shortly when I discovered that the forest road was inaccessible. It was not designed for my little Nissan Sentra to pass through. Somewhat frustrated and extremely hungry, I started driving around looking for a place to put my tent up for the night. I wasn’t at all looking forward to my usual dinner for one of bland Ramen noodles and Texturized Vegetable Protein, which is as plain, tasteless, and dull as it sounds. But I had become accustomed to my late night travel diet of the past two months. Since I had started this trip, I set myself a budget of 5 dollars a day, and it was enough to satisfy my hunger, though it was nourishment without any significant taste.

I drove around for a while looking for a nice person to ask if I could just set up my tent in their backyard for the night. Coming from Israel less than a year ago, I had learned by now how these Americans have issues with private property and trespassing, and I did not want to get shot during the night. I drove up a hill where I saw some lights, and a sign saying Bible School and Camp. Clint,  strikingly blonde, possessing younger features and an old man’s expression, introduced himself to me with a pleasant smile. His clean cut figure of noticeably pressed jeans and a freshly trimmed beard was encircled by a hoard of teenage disciples bearing the same appearance. It seemed not only a contrast, but an emphasis of how out of place my neglected long-hair and obvious derelict appearance appeared in such a clean cut surrounding. He asked me what I was looking for and I explained that I was looking for the National Forest. When I think of it now, I’m surprised that the contrast of appearance, although being acknowledged by both sides , didn’t get in the way of a flourishing conversation.  I guess that between being Jewish, and from Israel and my random or divine arrival (depending on your personal point of view) at a bible school, I can now understand how only several minutes into the conversation I was offered dinner. “Free dinner” I said half to myself, but apparently out loud “, I can never say no to that.”

Clint, my newly acquainted host, came out apologetically with a plate of lukewarm Bratwurst sausages, mildly overdone, and some cold, runny mashed potatoes on the side. The mere sight of the plate had excited my rumbling bowls, demanding that I finally conform to its delayed requests. Although I knew in my mind, that the cold and liquid texture of the mashed potatoes was not how they were supposed to be served, my intestines made no such distinctions. Both my mind and my body were truly grateful for real meat and a wholesome dinner, I expressed my joy by flashing a shy smile between bites of the tepid sausage, devouring everything on my plate.

While seated on the small stool, randomly placed for me outside the kitchen, an array of eager and perplexed smiles were shot in my way from the young disciples.  In what seemed to me an attempt to keep me engaged, Clint introduced me to Drew, a young minister at the school.  His subtle flamboyance,  and prominent masculine jaw seemed to contrast the calm and inviting demeanor with which he approached our conversation.  Within minutes of explaining Christianity to a non-believer such as myself, he had compared homosexuality with stealing, and proclaimed  both a sin. I attempted to nod silently and hide the rage I felt inside for expressing such an outrageous opinion so overtly. But I was his guest, and I felt it would be slightly impolite to express my gratitude for dinner with uncontrollable fury. But most of all, I was still hoping to be fed some more.  During the conversation I was gradually able to put aside the shocking comparison and engaged the unknown and curious topic of Christian theology. I debated the obviously biased information I was receiving from Drew, on two different levels. The first volley was the array of questions and answers I was conducting with Drew. This was on a superficial level. At the same time I was also maintaining a completely contradictory debate with myself. I Doubted every single word Drew spoke and reconstructed it to appease my sacrilegious attitude, which I had assembled for the past 27 years of my life. Later, while taking a shower in the room they put me in, I decided to turn this experience into a game. I named it “My secret investigations as a pseudo Gonzo reporter from the heart of the protestant establishment.”.  As a self proclaimed reporter, from that point on I was obliged to further engage my hosts,  a difficult task that was eased by my genuine interest in the topic.

 Drew, a self proclaimed messenger of God, “had been given God’s gift to teach and speak” and the conversation continued without even a pause. When I asked about the Mormons I had recently visited in Salt Lake City he explained to me that “Those quacks aren’t really Christian.  They think of themselves as becoming God through God’s work. Those Psychos.” I was disinclined to explain to him that the notion of Jesus existing in you, thus creating the holy trinity, which he had been explaining to me for the past 45 minutes, sounded as insane as becoming a God.  However the Gonzo edict prevented me from speaking my mind . The code of Gonzo Journalism which I was only vaguely familiar with, is to get involved and to become part of the group which you are studying and to report from within. Drew told me about the men’s convention going on this weekend and invited me to stay for the weekend. Assuming a positive answer, he added that there would be coffee and cake at the morning lecture, and, if I wanted, he could get me a bed. As I have already mentioned, I took him up on that offer. I wasn’t sure if they were trying to evangelize me, well actually, of course they were.  But I was sure they did not understand with whom they were dealing. So tomorrow I think I will have more to report on. But I must get some rest in order to further prepare for a new day of intellectual battles that will take place apparently only in my own mind. Which is exactly how I like them.

Until tomorrow,

I. N. Trigue. (My new gonzo name)

July 31^st 2011 – Day 2

The lecture started on the second day explaining to us how we are all fallen and sinful beings by nature and about bringing Christ into our lives. While reminding myself of my job as a pseudo- Gonzo journalist, I tried to ask only tactful, intelligent questions, so as to not give away my secret mission. I joined the group for morning coffee and cake after the service. Although my stomach was still somewhat aching from yesterday’s unexpected dinner, the temptation of a hot beverage prepared by someone other than myself was greater than my commanding innards. The cake, effortlessly mounded on a plain table seemed to be taken for granted by all participants but myself.  The sweet bite of chocolate was almost overwhelming, exploding in my mouth, pounding against, what seemed like every taste bud in existence. I tried my best to veil my excitement while I talked to the people present, telling them stories of my travels, and replying to their various questions about the place I call home, referred to by them as the Holy Land.

As I sat there, surrounded by true believers for the first time in my life (well, true believers of Jesus Christ, “our Lord and Savior”), I further pursued my investigations.  I tried to figure out the design, the master plan behind this faith that created an enslaving system for people of intelligence.  This dude, Jesus, whom they had accepted into their lives has saved them, but how does that work? Even if I were to believe that Jesus did walk among us as a man, I still believed that there had to be a design that turned this simple man’s life into a religion.  I was determined to discover the mechanism that transformed John, who was praying on his knees bedside me, into an imprisoned man of faith.  

Being unfamiliar with the theology of Christianity, I felt the need to constantly gather basic information in order to decipher the system.  “So, how is it again that Jesus atones for our sins?” I asked for the fourth time in the last two days.  I decided to take my notes in Hebrew, in case one of my convention peers decided to peep at them. “Jesus has taken upon himself all of our sins, and so to be grateful for that. We will desire to be more Christ like ourselves,” I translated them back to English in my thoughts.  The goal as I understood it, was to intrinsically create a desire to constantly better yourself. 

My mind could not keep up with the pace of what I had perceived as old wives tales, and I started desperately to look forward to dinner. Clint had informed me of the menu, and I lusted for that meal to arrive. An abundance of baby back ribs, appropriately hot and solid mashed potatoes this time, and crispy fresh salad.  Trying not to drool, I allowed my mind to wander to the lusciousness that will arrive only later . This thought alone allowed my body and mind to bear for only a few more hours what had become a burdensome and tedious day of evangelism and fairy tales.

When the day had come to an end and I finally crawled into bed, I was tired but with a full belly. I pondered if I had it in me to complete my mission, or whether I should just gather my belongings and quietly hop into my car and leave. Was the price I was paying for these scrumptious meals higher than I had expected in the first place?  Was this really a “free” meal?  Only moments before my sleep deprived eyes shut for the night, I came to the resolution that I must finish what I had started.

August 1^st – Day 3

On the morning of my third day at bible camp, I started to feel numb. I was getting bored with their futile attempts to brainwash me by drilling repetitive ideas into my mind. “Accept Christ into your life, submit yourself to Christ, real control of your life can come only through acceptance of Christ,  bla bla bla.” The zeal with which I had started this mission was diminished, it ceased to be an inner battle of good and evil.  It even stopped being interesting and I just wanted it to end.  I checked my e-mail on my phone every 3 minutes. Still nothing.  My thoughts were more about the social struggle that had started in Israel only weeks ago, and less about my own redemption. Flipping through the Bible I had been handed, I started reading the Book of Daniel, thinking about an album by an Israeli artist who attempted to reinterpret the Holy Book.  I pondered on how it was not the Word, the Holy Gospel, or the Bible that makes it relevant to so many people’s lives, but rather the modern interpretations.  The artist, Meir Ariel, created an astonishing interpretation of the Book of Daniel making it relevant to modern society and to my life. Allan, the Pastor attempted similarly to preach to us on how Psalms 21:16 (or whatever random verse he chose at that moment) was relevant to his followers.  My Gonzo conclusions had started to take shape. Using up-to-date methods, you can use anything as an analogy in order to portray a message. 

My wandering thoughts returned to the latest Harry Potter movie I had just seen, and I started to imagine myself using these methods to create a Harry Potter religion.  “I’m sure that there are enough “verses” in seven volumes of Harry Potter” I thought to myself  “to be reinterpreted as messages of prophecy, salvation and redemption.” I saw myself, for a moment, standing on a podium in a great hall, with stained glass windows, and the image of Daniel Radcliff waving his wand sculptured above me. “Would Everyone please open Deathly Hallows chapter 34.” I would say to my followers, “What does Nagini, the snake, represent in your lives? Who here has battled their inner Nagini, been tempted by the forces of darkness? What allowed Harry to overcome his doubt in himself?” I would call it “The Church of Harry Potter our Modern Day Metaphorical Savior” and it would be my own little social experiment that would lose control within a matter of months, and perhaps turn into a “real” religion.

“Are you all stupid?”I wanted to yell at the people beside me. My mind ceased wandering, and returned to the people in my vicinity. I resented them more as I understood more, and turned angrier as I learned to accept the fundamental difference between us.  I regard my faith in myself as a strength, and they regard it as a weakness.

“ Would you mind if I prayed for you so that God will bring hard times on you, and you fall down on your knees, begging to accept Jesus Christ as your true savior?,” Drew asked me at the lunch table while we were chowing down on succulent steak and French fries (which I had come to accept as a standard meal by now).  I looked at Drew straight in the eye, with all the arrogance, pride and contempt I could find in a single glance and replied solemnly “You’re more than welcome to”. At that moment, at our last supper, I decided to reveal for the first time a little more of my unrevealed irreverence towards their version of Christianity. “I take my own future into my own hands, and my good deeds are mine, and mine only. I am not fallen or sinful and why should I waste my time on thoughts of after life, when people here and now in this life, need my attention, help and interest.” My blasphemous rant was cut short by Clint,   “But what do you have to lose?” he asked as the conversation slowly evolved into an interrogation. I started to enjoy myself, feeling awakened from my mind’s earlier numbness. “If you’re doing good deeds anyway, why not accept Christ into your life, and then if there is eternity you won’t burn in hell.  But if you’re wrong and there is a God, and you don’t accept him into your life, aren’t you scared of burning in hell for all eternity? That’s quite a price to pay.”  It sounded so rational, so solemn in its core belief, what do I have to lose?  It was in that instant, that I felt like leaping onto the table, painted in blue and reenacting Mel Gibson in the movie “Braveheart.” I pictured myself standing on top of a grassy, lush hill while being shot by gleaming arrows and roaring at the top of my lungs “FREEEDOOOM!”-all I have to lose is my freedom and the sovereignty over my life.  That’s not too big a price to pay, is it?  But I just smiled politely, reminding myself of my reporter decree , and said, “I’m just not ready to let go of that yet.”

As I left their property, feeling relieved that I had accomplished what I had set out to do, I thanked my hosts sincerely for their hospitality. As I got into my car to start driving into Rocky Mt. National Park, I noticed that someone had left me a copy of the New Testament on my windshield.  Only then did I fully recognize that they saw our encounter as a battle just as much as I did.  The only difference in our approaches was that they tried to save me from eternal hell, whereas I had no presumptions of that sort.  I tested my faith, and I overcame.

Singing quietly to myself “We shall overcome…,” changing it after a couple of verses to “I have overcame” since I was alone, I turned on my I-pod and played Meir Ariel, and listened to the only interpretation of the Bible I actually appreciated. 

It turned out that the meals were free.

I smiled.