Orange and Blue

This is an email that I've been avoiding writing for some time. Please bear with me.

A few months ago, if you had asked me the significance of the colors orange and blue I have answered immediately, "Gators!" Orange and blue are the school colors of the University of Florida and so obviously that's the first things I thought of when I saw those colors up until a few months ago. Then I cam to Israel, specifically Jerusalem, and I was bowled over by orange ribbons with some occasional blue ones thrown in.

In case you haven't been following the news at all, Israel is planning on evacuating the Jewish settlements of Gaza and some parts of the northern West Bank in the coming days. In three days in fact. Like in Ukraine, orange has been adopted as the color of the opponents. Those against the disengagement wear orange ribbons on their backpacks, belts, handbags, and cellphones. Orange ribbons dangle from car antennas, while orange bracelets and shirts reading "A Jew does not expel a Jew," can be found on every block. A majority of these orange-wearers are what would be called Modern Orthodox in America, though there are certainly numerous secular or traditional orange-wearers and some ultra-Orthodox ones, too. The proliferation of orange among religious Jews has prompted some pro-disengagement religious Jews to begin wearing t-shirts that proclaim "Ani dati v'lo ktom," (I'm religious but not orange).

Blue, then, became the color designating those who favor the government's decision to pull out of the Gaza Strip. However, blue is far and away in the minority in Jerusalem. I have been asked on multiple occasions if my hair color (blue) is meant to be a political statement. The short answer is no. The longer answer is that, although blue has always been my favorite color as well as my favorite color for my hair, I'm somewhat grateful that blue is the pro-disengagement color. If, instead, my hair had been orange, I would have probably changed it so I did not appear to agree with those protesting the upcoming disengagement. So as it stands now, I have blue hair because I have blue hair, but I don't completely mind when people assume things about my political opinion based on my hair color. But I don't wear any ribbons.

As the date for the intended pull-out creeps closer, tensions continue to build throughout the country. Early this week Bibi Netanyahu, Israel's Finance Minister, resigned from office because of his disagreements with the government's coming actions in Gaza. Along with multiple small and medium sized rallies throughout the country, there have been a number of significantly large ones. Three weeks ago, 25,000 protesters gathered in a sea of orange at Kfar Maimon to protest against the disengagement. For three days the tens of thousands of protesters remained in the small Southern town in the desert heat in peaceful protest. Two days ago, tens of thousands gathered at the Western Wall in Jerusalem in a prayer rally, praying for a miracle, redemption, the stopping of the disengagement and the coming of the Messiah. I wasn't there myself, though numerous friends of mine were. The papers say that between 50,000 and 250,000 people gathered that evening in prayer. Just yesterday, 100,000 people gathered in Tel Aviv in another anti-disengagement rally. And the clock keeps ticking.

Tonight begins Shabbat. Tomorrow night begins the observance of Tisha b'Av. The next day begins the disengagement. Tisha b'Av is a day of mourning signifying many things, but mainly the destruction of the First and Second Temples in Jerusalem. According to many rabbinic traditions, the cause of the destruction of the Temples was sinat chinam, senseless hatred. In these days that theme seems overwhelmingly, painfully relevant. In Jerusalem right now you're either orange or you're blue. For the disengagement or against it. No matter what your neighbor says or does, how he acts or how he prays, if the ribbon on his backpack is different from the one on yours, there is an immediate rift, a coldness between the two of you. We're taught that the messianic age can't come until there's love between neighbors, yet looking at these warring colors on the streets of Jerusalem it seems like a hopeless pipe dream. And on that note, Jews around the world will fast and mourn on Sunday for Tisha b'Av, remembering the destruction of the Temples due to hatred between brothers.

And what will happen when the disengagement begins? No one knows. Will the protesters from around the country succeed in blocking the check point at the entrance to the settlements, in hopes of preventing the forced removal of the settlers? Will soldiers obey their commanders' orders? What about the religious soldiers whose rabbis have commanded them otherwise? What of the Jewish residents of Gaza who have made it clear that they will not leave? Will they be hurt when the soldiers come to take them from their homes? Will they turn violent? And where will all these people live? It's three days away and housing has not been found for all of those being evacuated. How will parents explain to their children what is going on when soldiers in uniform with guns come to take them away from the only home they've ever known? And in the slightly more distant future, what will happen to the abandoned homes? Will they be left for the Arab residents of Gaza or bulldozed as the settlers leave. What sort of a Gaza Strip will be created when the most densely populated area in the world is left alone while being heavily guarded and locked in on all its borders by the Israeli government? What will happen to that tiny strip of land when there's no governmental infrastructure to take over when Israel leaves?

No one has answers to these question. I can only hope that the next week will remain nonviolent as the disengagement goes forward. Please keep this tiny part of the world in your thoughts and prayers this week as many of us here and around the world hope for a nonviolent disengagement that will help bring peace to the State of Israel and her neighbors.

B'Shalom,
Sarah