Forced Expulsion and Solidarity
Residents of Ras El Ayn puling apart their homes last week
Dear friends,
This summer I wrote to you about my visit to the Palestinian village of Ras al-Ain, in the Jordan Valley where I spent the night practicing protective presence. That village is now empty. This week the final residents of the village left after an intensification of the terror inflicted upon them by the Jewish settlers in the last weeks. Needless to say, no protection was offered to them by the army or the police. Occasionally they would come and arrest the villagers being violently attacked or the activists trying to stop the settlers from attacking them.
Naif, one of the leaders of Ras al-Ain / Al Auja wrote a note this week to my father and the rest of the activists who spent days and nights trying to keep them on their land:
"On my behalf and on behalf of all the residents of Ras al-Ain, I thank you for your efforts to protect our homes for two full years. I write these words after having suffered the injustice and oppression that have befallen Ras al-Ain. I feel pain and sorrow over what has happened there. You were the best people who stood with us in our time of need. You are the dearest friends to our hearts."
My father, who’s spent nights there on a weekly basis for two years, is heartbroken. After weeks of trying to come up with a plan, someone, anyone who might be able to shift the tide there, he succumbed as the villagers left to find a new place to live in Area A in the outskirts of Jericho. There, they received a cold welcome from the PA, who is weary of taking in Palestinians from Area C. They know well that the plan of the Israeli right involves moving all Area C residents into the cities and closing them into what one activist called reservations, using American terminology.
My mother and father went to Ras El Ayn last week to be with one of the families as they packed up their home of 60 years, broke down the house and burned whatever they couldn’t take with them. While they were there, Tzvi Sukkot, a settler and member of the government showed up with a caravan of cars to celebrate the successful erasure of the village.
The following day a moving letter was sent to the Jewish activists who have been there for years supporting the villagers. It reads like a letter of sad defeat. I’d like to ask you, though to read it not only through the eyes of brokenness, but to try to take seriously what the writer is saying. There is a real message there about one of the purposes of solidarity.
"As a Palestinian activist, I would like to express my deep and sincere gratitude to all institutions and organizations that stood alongside the families of Al-Auja during the forced displacement they endured. At a moment when these families were facing immense pressure, loss, and uncertainty, your presence and support were not only essential, but deeply meaningful.
Your efforts, whether through humanitarian assistance, legal support, documentation, or advocacy helped affirm that these families were not alone and that their suffering was seen and acknowledged. Such solidarity represents a powerful stand for human dignity, justice, and the right of Palestinians to remain on their land.
I extend my appreciation to everyone who chose to stand with the people of Al-Auja. Your commitment and courage send a clear message that forced displacement will not go unnoticed, and that collective action can make a real difference in the lives of those affected."
We don’t always win the political fights we engage in. But the right fight is itself a worthy endeavor, one that is full of purpose, goodness and holiness. I have little doubt that those of us fighting for humanity in Palestine and elsewhere, and not for some fantasy or idea are planting seeds that will one day sprout into new beginnings. What these expelled Palestinians are saying through their pain is that thanks to these committed activists, they witnessed true brotherhood and solidarity with Jewish Israelis who were there for them. For those who witnessed it, that will never go away. Such a lived memory continues to act and inspire from the Jordan Valley to Minnesota and beyond.
May those forced to wander find safety and home. May those stealing their lands return from their wickedness. May the Jewish people remember who they are before God reminds them with disaster. And may solidarity and fraternity spread far and wide and reclaim our hearts, and the hearts of all people.
Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Misha