Today is the first day it has rained in Tel Aviv since I arrived. To me, rain is beautiful, signaling a process of renewal and change necessary for growth. The Middle East is, for me, a place in need of metaphorical rain. There are many wonderful, longstanding traditions and cities that have changed again and again over the centuries becoming multicultural and multifaceted. Jerusalem and the Church of the Holy Sepulcher are good examples of this. The old city walls share stones from multiple eras. The markets bustle with ancient treats and T-Shirts advertising local tour guides as better than Google. The call to prayer intersperses with merchants yelling their wares and church bells announcing the hour.
There are also many things here that people have come to accept as normal and unchanging. Every new apartment has a safe-room, everyone jokes about not needing a gas mask but has one somewhere, and machine guns are carried around the streets by 18 year-olds going about their army service. The longer I am here, the more I understand both how difficult it would be to see an urgent need for change if one grew up here and saw these things as routine. At the same time, I I feel so much hope as I see, often amongst my new colleagues and friends, how resilient, open minded, insightful and refreshing Israelis can be.
There are also many things here that people have come to accept as normal and unchanging. Every new apartment has a safe-room, everyone jokes about not needing a gas mask but has one somewhere, and machine guns are carried around the streets by 18 year-olds going about their army service. The longer I am here, the more I understand both how difficult it would be to see an urgent need for change if one grew up here and saw these things as routine. At the same time, I I feel so much hope as I see, often amongst my new colleagues and friends, how resilient, open minded, insightful and refreshing Israelis can be.