ON THE FIFTH NIGHT OF HANUKKAH WE TELL THE FOLLOWING STORY & share it here for your enjoyment:
THIS IS THE STORY OF SHLOMO AND IBRAHIM who went to the same school in Israel/Palestine. That might not seem unusual except that one is Jewish and the other Arab. One speaks Hebrew, the other Arabic. Their names are fictitious but their school is not. Their school is called the NEVE SHALOM/WAHAT AL-SALAM, which means OASIS OF PEACE. Here Jewish & Arabic students learn together. They attend all classes together except for religious studies and for arithmetic because the equations are worked from left to right in Arabic and right to left in Hebrew. The school is actually part of a larger community of peace with Israeli Jews and Palestinian Arabs living side by side.
SHLOMO AND IBRAHIM had to learn, along with their classmates, how they were the same and how they were different. That was not necessarily an easy task. Both boys played soccer. When Shlomo first started at the school he noticed that the referee was Arab. It took a little bit for him to realize that the calls the ref made were fair because before he and his family came here to try a new way of living he had lived in fear and mistrust of the Arab community. Ibrahim had been here longer and had become a bit more accustomed to the community. When Shlomo first came he watched as he had with other newcomers and waited for an opportunity to extend his hand of friendship when appropriate.
THAT DAY SOON CAME. One day while watching Shlomo from a distance Ibrahim realized that this new boy had forgotten his lunch as he dumped his backpack out and mumbled something about “just have to go hungry then.” Quietly but with determination Ibrahim waited until just before English class when he knew Shlomo would return to his locker for his books. He quickly placed a sandwich in a bag next to the locker and stood a distance away to see what would happen. Shlomo eyed the bag suspiciously then cautiously opened it. The aroma of a fresh, delicious smelling pita sandwich met his nostrils. Relieved, he leaned back against the wall and quickly ate his find. He had a sense that someone had left this for him but who and why didn’t they just hand it to him?
Once in English class someone tapped Shlomo on the shoulder and handed him a folded note. As he discreetly opened it his eyes met the following written in perfectly formed Hebrew letters:
“ Sorry we won the soccer game. I am good at making goals. So are you. You will do better next time. Thank you for being a good sport. I had an extra sandwich. Hope you liked it. “
It was signed by Ibrahim. A fleeting thought of “poison” crossed Shlomo’s mind for a moment and then he quickly heard his father’s voice again explaining why the family had moved here to this place and why he was going to this school. “If we get to know one another perhaps we will not need to live at war and in fear of one another. This will be a good opportunity for you. “ After class Shlomo gingerly approached Ibrahim and spoke softly, “ Uh, the sandwich was great. How do you write Thank You in Arabic? Do you think you could teach me how? “
FOR MORE INFORMATION ABOUT THIS SCHOOL AND VILLAGE:
http://oasisofpeace.org/