I’d been to Israel before as a CBS news correspondent covering Saddam Hussein lobbing Scuds into Tel Aviv. I marveled at Israel’s spirit and saw firsthand how critical America’s alliance is to Israel’s security. But my last trip was very different.
I was part of an elite delegation of multi-faith Latino leaders, invited by AIPAC, the pro-Israel lobby that brings influential leaders of diverse communities to visit Israel with the hope we will return and use our influence on Congress to champion strong bipartisan U.S.-Israeli relations.
I’m Jewish by birth but did not grow up Jewish. I returned to my faith when I adopted my child and had my bat mitzvah at 50. I was hungry for more understanding, and the intensive education promised on this visit compelled me to go.
Our travels gave us such intimate windows into the hearts of many in Israel, but what stood out for me are the Israelis who transcend the politics in ways that change lives.
One of them was the “Save a Child’s Heart” program at the Wolfson Hospital. At this most remarkable pediatric hospital, children who have heart problems come from all over to be saved with specialty surgeries at no cost to the families. Kids come from all over Africa and, most remarkably, from enemy Arab states. One child from Gaza was here with his mom, who clearly understood he would have died without Israeli intervention to care for him. As a mother myself, I reached out to this boy’s mom, who was wearing a hijab, standing by her son’s bedside. For a moment I held her hand in mine and looked into her eyes with an understanding without words between mothers. I felt her deep emotion but also the inherent paradox of having to turn to her enemy to save her son.
When I asked the lead surgeon, who runs this program and operates on these kids, how it’s possible to receive these children from enemy territories, he said it happens all the time — that he does not see the ethnicity, race, religion or politics of a child in need; he sees a beating heart in need of saving. Even the daughter of a top leader of Hamas in Gaza is also said to have been admitted into an Israeli hospital for emergency treatment. In fact, Ismail Haniyeh, one of the most senior leaders of the Islamist group in Gaza, is said to have had several family members who have sought treatment from Israeli doctors. The head of the recovery home for these kids described it best when she said, “In some ways, we are our own United Nations at work every day.”
Later, we visited the Yemin Orde Youth Village, an innovative educational and spiritual approach to restoring wholeness for children in need. It’s a home for broken and abused kids who are received from all over the world. Whatever war, abuse or breakdown that sent them here, this was not just an institutionalized facility to house damaged souls; this was a home to heal them. The founder’s core philosophy is restoring wholeness of being. He’s made it his life’s mission. There are no throw-away children here, and this home does not turn them away at 18. All are welcome for life: They can get married here, stay on and work, return to visit with their children and remain connected if they wish, like family forever.
Our tour guide was one of those children who arrived with a huge wave of immigrants from Ethiopia as a young child. How I marveled at her story and those of millions of immigrants from more than 100 countries who’ve been received in Israel.
Since its founding, this tiny Jewish state with limited resources has absorbed millions and serves as a safe haven for Jews from the former Soviet Union, Ethiopia and those still today fleeing persecution, whether from Yemen, Africa or, now, more from France and other European nations as dangerous anti-Semitism rages anew.
As a Latina American, passionate about immigration reform in our country, I couldn’t help but feel inspired by Israel’s embrace of so many who seek refuge here. It’s no panacea — there are many challenges here, I am told, especially with new arrivals from Darfur. But still, Israel has been a beacon of sanctuary for so many and, despite all its challenges, she has opened her doors. I couldn’t help but feel ashamed to have just sent back all those thousands of women and children who arrived at our own doorstep last summer, fleeing for their lives from the perils of Central America. Many never receive even the fair hearings for asylum that is our promise, and instead experience something called “rocket docket” court cases that spin mothers and children back as fast as they arrived, without a legitimate hearing to assess their claims. God knows what they returned to.
I couldn’t help but feel their plight more powerfully as a consequence of all I was seeing here. Our Latino delegation couldn’t help but see parallels in our shared challenges, not just on immigration, but on a shared understanding that Latino issues are America’s issues in much the same way Israel’s concerns must be America’s concerns.
I must be honest: When I first embarked on this educational mission, I questioned the importance of Israel being included in our national Latino agenda. We have so much that needs to be addressed regarding an alarming lack of access to education in our community, much-needed capital to grow our businesses and desperate need for leadership roles to represent our many interests. I couldn’t imagine where Israel fits into our conversation. I had to come to Israel to understand it. What I witnessed in Israel reminded me of a Mayan greeting I learned long ago during my Mayan studies: In Lak’ech Ala K’in. It’s the Maya’s living code of the heart that means, “I am you and you are me.” It’s a statement of unity and oneness. That’s how I felt each day in Israel.
In fact, as I write this, I find myself reaching often to touch my necklace, which I had such fun haggling for in the Arab Quarter. It depicts the Old City in silver. It holds such memory and meaning for me, this place that is a light unto all nations — and is now a light that shines within me.
Shalom and In Lak’ech Ala K’in.
For a full account of Fernandez's trip to Israel, click here.
Giselle Fernandez is a five-time Emmy Award-winning journalist, producer, filmmaker and Latin media marketing entrepreneur.
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