French-Jewish writer Marek Halter describes how he led a bus-load of Jewish, Muslim and Christian clergymen on a peace mission across Israel into Gaza, braving Hamas gunman along the way.
By Anonymous. A rabbi in Gaza is not a common sight. The last time, to my knowledge, was in the 17th century. His name was Nathan of Gaza and he was waiting for the messiah. On the Palestinian side of the improvised border checkpoint, the man wearing a kippah is causing a bit of a sensation.
The Hamas police officers, five men crammed in a booth made of corrugated iron, are confused. They call their commander on the telephone, and he arrives an hour later. Four cars teeming with armed men stop in a cacophony of honking horns and screeching tyres.
The head of Hamas security, Abu Khaled, is no less confused than his men. He makes assurances that he is here to protect the rabbi and the rest of us from the angry populace. It is two months to the day since the first bombardments in the Gaza war. Our mission had its risks; along with Hommes de Parole Foundation Men of Their Word, a Geneva-based independent interfaith organisation and its president, my old friend Alain Michel, we were looking for ways to tear down the wall that separates the Israeli and Palestinian peoples.
Not the 12m-high wall made of cement that already runs across km, but the one of incomprehension between those so far from each other and yet at the same time so close. Crossing Gaza with imams and rabbis seemed an obvious thing to do. In this world where the influence of religion grows each day, we wanted to make a first breach by bringing imams to the town of Sderot, on the Israeli border, and rabbis to Gaza. There are men of goodwill on the two sides, and maybe they could take advantage of the moment to extend their hand.
