Even on my way out of town in a taxi from Jerusalem to Tel Aviv, I made time to stop off at a place I’ve wanted to visit for a long time. For years I have heard stories of the Oasis of Peace (or Neve Shalom in Hebrew and Wahat al-Salam in Arabic), but in my mind’s eye I always pictured two separate communities in close proximity. The reality was an unexpected surprise, the Oasis of Peace is a single intentional community in which Jewish and Arab Israelis choose to live together. Wahat al-Salam/Neve Shalom was the brain child of Fr. Bruno Hussar (deceased) who dreamed of a community where Christians, Jews and Muslims would live in an “oasis of peace,” as a model for what peaceful coexistence throughout the Middle East might one day look like. Like many Israeli cooperative communities, settlements and kibbutzim, people “apply” to live in the Oasis, and if newcomers are compatible with the philosophy of the community they are invited to join as members and build, purchase or rent residences. Over the years, the community has evolved into a thriving binational community of Jewish and Arab Israeli citizens, predominantly middle class, many working in nearby TelAviv/Jaffa or Jerusalem. However, in the early years, the community struggled to define and establish itself and to overcome physical and financial hardships. To this day, members must continue to engage actively to bridge difficult political and philosophical differences, and as our guide told us this can be a “messy business,” rarely easy, but, evidently, the commitment is holding. Today, an expanding set of programs are based at NSWAS, and I encourage you to read more about all of these on the website (http://nswas.org/rubrique22.html). They include The School for Peace, The Children’s Educational System (serving both residential children and children from surrounding communities), the Pluralistic Spiritual Centre, A Youth Club, and a wide range of humanitarian aid programs and medical relief mostly to those in greatest need due to the ongoing conflict. In addition, WAS-NS runs a 39-room hotel, with swimming pool, conference halls and cafe to accommodate visiting peace groups and activists from around the world. Visitors can choose from planned programs or work with WAS-NS staff to create something of special interest.
Our visit concluded much too quickly, but before we left, we spent a short time driving around several side streets, peering into gardens of brilliant flowers or between the homes out to pastoral vistas of gently rolling farmlands. As we started back toward the highway, Esther explained to our driver that this was a community where Arabs and Jews lived together. At one point Esther translated his Hebrew response. Apparently he said, “No, that’s not possible – Arabs and Jews cannot live together.” Although I didn’t even try to understand their rapid exchange, I could tell by Esther’s tone she was encouraging him to look around and judge for himself. The driver was a personable young Syrian man, relaxed and forthcoming about his personal life . He mentioned he was recently divorced, and although he drove taxi to make money, his passion was drumming for a MiddleEast band. I asked if he had any CD’s or tapes, but they were back at his apartment in Jerusalem. Instead, he gave us a live demonstration, drumming enthusiastically on the steering column as he drove. Unable to pass up the opportunity, I dug out my digital recorder and managed to capture a few minutes of his “performance.” I’m really glad I did because as he listened to the playback over the headphones, we were rewarded with a glowing smile and he requested that I try again because he was sure he could perform even better the second time.
