I went to the tomb of the Patriarchs.

Its a holy site in the city of Hebron, where its said that the
family tree begins. The place of burial of Abraham and Issac. Their wives, Rebecca and Sarah.
And some say even Adam and Eve are buried deep under the building. The building is split, a
mosque on one side - accessible to only Palestinians. On the other side, a Synagogue where no
Arabs can pass. A building split in a city split.
They say Hebron is the worst of the occupation. Where the border between Israeli and
Palestinian is interwoven. Palestinian streets with nets overhead to protect them from the things
the Jewish settlers throw from the settlement just above. These are the stories you hear. And
certainly, as I border crossed, passport flashing to walk with ease between one side and
another, the difference is clear. The shuttered houses and empty markets of the Palestinian
streets. The bustling shops of the Israelis. The difference is clear.
But Im not out there on the streets now. Im standing just feet from where Abraham is said to be
buried. The decorative molding around his shrine looks like it has Arabic on it. or at least Arabic
designs. A Hassidic Jew, a man of faith, asks me if Im Jewish. Ive never been asked my
religion so many times in one day. Hes young. In California he might be considered a hipster. I
am. Jewish.
Would you like to tie the Teffilin.
Well, what is it? I dont know.
I dont like ritual acts whose significance I dont understand.
its because youre Jewish. To tie you to your faith. To connect you to your ancestry.
This isnt part of that chosen people thing is it, because i cant be chosen right now.
No, no, its different for everyone, its just to help you remember God.
ok, but Im not a one God kind of guy
Its ok, its ok, its to bind you to your people. To draw from their power.
I give in. I want that. Yes, I hate so much of what Israel is. But when have I ever been embraced
for being a Jew. When have I ever been told that could be a source of power, and not a reason
to run or to fear or to be ashamed. When has someone offered a hand and said, come, stand
with your people. They are strong!
Hi ties the Teffilin. Like some kind of BDSM toy he wraps the leather straps around my arm. Ties
a box with a piece of Torah around my head. I feel a bit foolish and a bit bad ass. My people did
this. Somewhere, way back, before they hid their identity for fear of annihilation, my people did
this ritual action with a box on my head and a gladiator arm piece.
I walk to a bench. Close my eyes. The music from the mosque next door begins. The singing of
the call to prayer. Three times a day in every moslem country. The yearning call to God, to
remembering. The music comes from across the building where Isaac is buried. Estranged

brothers. I say a prayer, for the healing of a broken family. The tears come unnoticed. More salt
in a salty sea. This is the power of my people. This is remembering.
As devastating as siblings in a feud runs deep poisoning the hearts of a family forsaken.
Assumed better forgotten. Forgotten would be better than this destruction.
Re-member. To construct anew.
Can we just build a new temple. Can we just forget. And re-member.
Remembering. Zachor
Never again.
Never again.
[Never again] Sound score.
Never again. When I first heard the term, I thought it meant Never again should this happen to
anyone. I know mostly diaspora Jews (I suppose all Jews are diaspora Jews). They tended to
be socially conscious and ready to put their life force into some idea of a better world that
includes standing up against oppression and fighting for human rights. These were my parents
anyway. Never again should this kind of human life be wasted. Never again.
What Ive learned is that Never again was a slogan first used by resistance fighters in the
Warsaw ghetto and later adopted by the Jewish Defense League. They mean, Never again will
this happen to the Jews. This mantra results in a very different reality and positioning. It
explains a bit why Israel has become a hyper-militarized, hyper-vigilant, dehumanizing force.
Never again.
We remember.
I am at the Western Wall. The most sacred of all sites where Jews come to pray. They are
wearing all the regalia. yamike, furry hat, holy scarf. Oh, and a machine gun. He has two kids,
holy garb, and a machine gun. Hopping, dancing, singing, with a machine gun strapped on like a
cell phone in its holster. And this is not unusual. This is prayer. This is Normalcy.
Roughly 90% of Israelis have been in the military. They have been responsible for a machine
gun whose where about they needed to know at all times. They eat breakfast with machine
guns. Go out to bars. Take the bus. Grab a coffee. The machine gun hangs limply off the
forearm while a young man types an urgent text to his girlfriend.
Im thinking of another Never again reference. The original title to The I Have a Dream
speech. It was Normalcy Never Again.

Here are some excerpts from that speech. The term negro has been changed to Palestinian.
The 100 years reference has been shifted to ___ years. The amount of time since so many
Palestinians were displaced in what Israelis call the _____ war and Palestinians call the Nakbe,
the catastrophe.
But one hundred years later, the Palestinian still is not free. One hundred years later, the life of
the Palestinian is still sadly crippled by the manacles of segregation and the chains of
discrimination. One hundred years later, the Palestinian lives on a lonely island of poverty in the
midst of a vast ocean of material prosperity. One hundred years later, the Palestinian is still
languishing in the corners of American society and finds himself an exile in his own land. So we
have come here today to dramatize a shameful condition
we refuse to believe that the bank of justice is bankrupt. We refuse to believe that there are
insufficient funds in the great vaults of opportunity of this nation. So we have come to cash this
check a check that will give us upon demand the riches of freedom and the security of justice.
We have also come to this hallowed spot to remind America of the fierce urgency of now. This is
no time to engage in the luxury of cooling off or to take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism. Now
is the time to make real the promises of democracy. Now is the time to rise from the dark and
desolate valley of segregation to the sunlit path of racial justice. Now is the time to lift our nation
from the quick sands of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood. Now is the time to make
justice a reality for all of Gods children.
Leaving the Tomb of the Patriarchs, I come across another check point. I code switch.
Shalom.
The soldiers welcome me. My American passport large nose and curly hair are my easy in.
They ask me about California. One of them has a cousin there. In LA. He will visit when he gets
out of the army. A lot of soldiers go traveling when they get out. Go see the world. The
conversation winds and dips comfortably. I have learned not to stare at their machine guns.
A man my age walks by.
In well kept hair. nice clothes.
And dark skin.
The conversation ends. As they hurry across the street to stop him.
Check his ID.
To keep their people safe from threat.
Never Again.