Most Blatant Contrasts: Between the Beautiful Torah School in the Judean Hills and the Brutal Reality of East Jerusalem – Part I

Without having deliberately planned it that way, Norina immerses herself in two mutually exclusive realities of life in and around Jerusalem on a single day in October 2024. She spends the morning among young Jewish women who are happily studying, and in the afternoon a Muslim friend from East Jerusalem pours her heart out to her about the conditions and circumstances in her community.

The alarm clock rings at 6 a.m., an unusually early time these days. Due to the Fall Festivals of Rosh HaShana, Yom Kippur and Sukkot, the semester doesn’t start for another three weeks; all urgent deadlines have already been met in the past month; at the moment, the only stress-inducing thought is the topic of my Master’s thesis, for which I still have a whole academic year to complete. Perhaps because it is so unusual to get out of bed at such an early hour, it is comparatively easy for me to get up quickly after the alarm rings.

A controversial decision

The previous evening, I had seriously discussed with my parents whether it was wise to actually go on the upcoming trip. At first, we agreed that the route seemed too dangerous because it would take me past Bethlehem to a kibbutz in the middle of the southern West Bank. Then my friend put my worries into perspective to such an extent that my father finally gave his approval. That’s why today’s trip is a bit more exciting than usual.

The last major Iranian attack was exactly a week ago, as was the terrorist attack in Tel Aviv. Israel’s response to the Iranian missiles is still pending, the ground offensive in Lebanon is in full swing, hails of rockets beyond northern Israel are the order of the day. My prayer, as always, is that God will keep me from danger, even by bringing plans to fruition or thwarting them. Especially in the early days of the current Israel-Hamas (now also Hezbollah and Iran) war, I prayed regularly that God would not let me get on buses when danger might be lurking there. I said the same prayer last evening and this morning.

By bus to the Judean hills/southern West Bank

So I get on the first bus towards the city center and realize that the city is on its feet much earlier than my comfortable student life makes me feel. I should have no problem catching the connecting bus because I’ve allowed enough time to change buses. Or not… Because where both Google Maps and Moovit show my stop, no bus can possibly halt: it’s a construction site with no sign for the alternative stop. I walk up and down the street without success; I’ve missed the bus. The next one of this type leaves in three hours. Is that a sign? Should I cancel the trip?

I look for an alternative connection and find a route that my friend thinks is too dangerous because I would have to walk 17 minutes along the main road to the kibbutz. But then I see another bus that I could get on for the last stretch. So once again I decide to take the adventure. I get on the bus that leaves Jerusalem heading south into the West Bank, passes Bethlehem to the east and drops me off near Kibbutz Migdal Oz; my first trip to the southern West Bank all by myself.

At the Beit Midrash for young women

Shortly before nine, I arrive at the Beit Midrash of my Jewish friend Liele, who has returned to her former school for religious studies for the month before Yom Kippur. The Judean hilly landscape in which the kibbutz and Beit Midrash are located is breathtakingly beautiful. So far I haven’t even looked around this area because of the war situation. The last time I was about to visit Bethlehem with my brother, friends strongly advised us not to.

Instead, we went to Caesarea and found out in the evening that the IDF Operation Summer Camp in the West Bank had started that very day. But now I am in the middle of Judea in this beautiful girls’ school where young women can study Torah, Talmud and Halacha after graduating from high school before or after their national service. I feel honored to be able to visit this place as a German non-Jewish woman. And above all, I really enjoy spending time with Liele.

The encounter at the bus stop and its consequences

I keep thinking back to the story of how we met, because it’s just so beautiful, very special. Sometime in the rainy winter of last year, I was waiting in the rain at a bus stop, which I have never used since, for a bus that just wouldn’t come. I was on my way to church in the Old City. At the time, Liele had completed her national service at Hadassa Hospital right next to my university and student residence and was also waiting for the bus. She looked nice, so I approached her and we quickly started talking, literally about God and the world. At some point, a bus actually came. We got on together, talked about the differences and similarities between our respective faiths and ended up exchanging numbers. This developed into a valuable friendship that opened the door to special experiences with an Orthodox Jewish family.

After Liele and I had repeatedly and passionately debated theological questions after work, I was able to celebrate the Seder evening of Passover with her family. I then spent Shabbat evenings with this warm and wonderfully vibrant family again and again, and recently celebrated Rosh HaShana, the Jewish New Year and Feast of Trumpets. I am amazed at how God creates such unique encounters. Liele is the eldest of five siblings and I was warmly welcomed into her family circle time and time again, either together with my friend Annalie or with my brother Adrian. On each of these evenings, we laugh, talk, debate, ask questions, learn, explain, give thanks, exchange ideas and pray. And now I was allowed to visit the place that Liele had always told me about with shining eyes.