Daoud Boulos, Wahat al Salam |
As he meets with us on a Sunday afternoon, Daoud is clear. Experience has been a good teacher. Wahat al Salam is dedicated to helping Jews and Arabs "manage" the multifaceted conflict inherent in 21st century Israeli life. Daoud insists that 'resolving' that conflict is ultimately impossible and even delusional. Instead, families here are committed to living side by side, learning one another's languages and customs, working out issues large and small. They've founded a dynamic elementary school for Arab and Jewish children, working out a curriculum that honors and engages both. They've built a swimming pool to share, a shared community center and a meditation space. They've developed a "School for Peace," inviting Palestinians and Israelis into a disciplined setting for learning and practicing 'the things that make for peace.'
Listening to Daoud, I'm thinking of Clarence Jordan and the Koinonia Farm community of the mid-20th century. And I'm thinking of Murphy Davis, Ed Loring and the Open Door Community in Atlanta. I'm thinking of Dorothy Day and Catholic Workers in New York. And I'm thinking of how simple and how difficult it is to live together in peace.
Daoud was asked to say a bit about the ways his village (65 families) has encountered tension, difference and conflict over the years. How does it work? What tools have they discovered? What are the challenges to coexistence, communion, shared mission? He told us a powerful and poignant story of a Jewish boy from the village, much loved, who went to serve in the army at 18 and was killed on route to a mission that may well have been aimed at killing Palestinian insurgents.
When some in the village urged a memorial be erected for a fallen hero, others resisted. Was this 18-year-old a martyr, or was he a young man who died tragically in a conflict with no winners and no heroes? Daoud said this experience nearly broke the village apart. Feelings ran hot on all sides. In the end, 8 or 9 months later, counselors from outside the village were called upon to help. And at last, a compromise was reached. On the fence of a brand new basketball court, the village placed a dedication: "To Tom, a boy of peace who died at war." Daoud's story is linked in the video here. It was obvious that the experience had changed him, sobered him. And tested his village.
In church this morning, we heard Jesus' beatitudes, the first words and phrases of his "sermon on the mount." I'm struck by how easy it is to read: "Blessed are the peacemakers!" It's a simple sentence with a clear imperative. And yet, peacemaking requires discipline and training, spiritual formation and courage. It breaks our hearts more often than not, and brings us to our knees. And it's never, never, never easy. Daoud--in his manner and in his story--has reminded us that peace itself is a lifelong journey of the spirit. And it leads us to dark places, and vulnerable ones, if we follow the path deliberately and faithfully.
But, in his eyes, there was true joy. Just the same, there was deep satisfaction and joy. It was, perhaps, the joy of a man who knows he is a child of God, and has an opportunity to practice and learn and grow into that knowledge most every day. As we parted this afternoon, we invited Daoud to visit Santa Cruz when he visits the US again and his family in Redwood City and Palo Alto. A good man, a good village, a place of peace and struggle and hope.