A Pilgrimage Beyond Borders

In my debut book, I touched on the story of a family pilgrimage to Khalwat Al-Bayada in the summer of 2001, a journey initiated by my father. This pilgrimage, while a physical journey, was deeply rooted in the virtues of my dad’s Druze faith. It became a personal exploration of love and truth, reflecting the profound teachings and values he embodied.

In the chapter on love, I delve into the meanings of love and how my father’s example of unconditional love profoundly influenced my understanding. As a 16-year-old, standing in the sacred spaces of Khalwat Al-Bayada, I was a hesitant boy, grappling with my identity and heritage. Watching old footage from that day, I see a young version of myself, struggling to embrace where I came from.

Years later, as I write in the book, carrying my father’s casket was a poignant reminder of my past mistakes and my reluctance to open up to his wisdom. My father, a man of empathy and kindness, tried to impart his wisdom and traditions. At the time, I perceived him as someone clinging to the past. However, in hindsight, I realize he was a man deeply rooted in his traditions while simultaneously reaching towards a future enriched by these values.

The pilgrimage was the fulfillment of a promise my father made to God, an act of love, devotion, and duty. This act of faith and commitment was one of the many reasons I urged in my book to “be like Jim,” my dad. He embodied authenticity and courage, traits that I try to embody, especially now, as I reflect on the ongoing ethnic cleansing in Gaza.

This tragedy unfolding before our very eyes doesn’t require future investigations to reveal its horrors; it’s a present reality we are witnessing in real-time, a stark reminder of the world’s state. In my reflections on love, community, and courage, I often come back to the metaphor of a tree. My roots might be different from those of Palestinians and Israelis, but we are all connected. We belong to this world equally, and no single root can claim to nourish the tree of life more than another.

Today, more than ever, the people of Gaza, the Palestinians, are showing the world what it means to stand up for truth and justice. They cannot be erased or further dispossessed. The tragedy they endure does not find justification in any context.

As I have learned from my father and from observing the resilience of the Palestinian people, true courage lies in standing for truth and justice, even in the face of overwhelming adversity.

“Be like Jim,” I wrote, a call to emulate my father’s authenticity and love. But now, I add, “Be like Palestine.” Their struggle is a powerful reminder that we must stand firm for truth, love, and human rights. Their story is not just one of suffering but of unwavering strength and hope. It teaches us that in our shared tree of life, every root and branch plays a vital role in nurturing our collective existence and humanity.

My dad never took sides, with the sole exception being the side of truth. The truth here is that no tragedy justifies another tragedy. The horrors of October 7, and the innocent lives lost in southern Israel that day do not justify the killing of 6000 innocent children in Gaza as of today, making up roughly the 12,000 innocent civilians lost to indiscriminate bombings.

The hypocrisy of the western-led spirit of world affairs, that the belief that all people are equal, that democracy, law, and human rights triumph over terror, authoritarianism, and supremacism, has been irreparably shattered.

As I reflect back on the pilgrimage to Khalwat Al-Bayada, it becomes clear that this journey was more than just a fulfillment of a promise; it was a profound exploration into the depths of heritage, love, and the enduring human spirit. This pilgrimage, steeped in the rich traditions of my dad’s Druze faith, was the first step in a much larger journey that has led me to understand the interconnectedness of our global community. It taught me that our roots, no matter how diverse, intertwine in the shared soil of humanity, each contributing to the strength and resilience of the whole. In embracing my heritage, I found the courage to empathize with others’ struggles and to stand for truth and justice, as seen in the perseverance of the Palestinian people.

Be like Palestine: stand for truth, courage, love, and the right to live with dignity and the same rights afforded to others.

Thank you for reading.