This morning began with a brit milah, called a bris in the US, the 8th day circumcision ceremony for a baby boy. This baby is the grandson of close friends and I know his parents very well, too. Brit means covenant and Dad Yossi talked about the different covenants in the Bible, promises beginning with Noah and then strengthened with Abraham, Isaac and Jacob of G-d’s continued involvement with the human race in general and the Jewish people in particular—for better or worse. And do we have to constantly confirm our part of the covenant by acting in a way demanded by G-d? Yes, answered Yossi. Acting in a godly way is a constant challenge. There’s the letter of the law, but we are commanded to go beyond the letter of the law in our personal interactions. In Israel, attending a brit is important enough to come late to work, as I did. The baby was named for his great-grandfather Rabbi Yitzhak who left Hungary in 1928 when ruffians surrounded him and cut off his side locks. It turned out well. His presence in the US allowed him to save most of his family from the Nazis. The family moved to Israel after Independence. I remember Rabbi Yitzhak well—particularly for his amazing sense of humor which survived the many traumas of his life. It’s a lesson to us all.

And speaking of Thanksgiving and life lessons, did you know that it was established as a national holiday by Abraham Lincoln who saw all we needed to be thankful for despite the Civil War?

Beautiful Lia Van Leer, now 87, the founder of the theater, spoke to me softly: “Today there was a revolution in America. Maybe one day we will have such a revolution here. I can pray.”

Interviews, interviews, in the midst of people, in the midst of the women. Television sound bites off to the side, tape recording by the buffet table, photos for international papers.

Yet, it’s always about the women. Several of the women had been interviewed by Elana Rozenman and I hadn’t met them before. I love them all! What can I say! I love every woman in the book! Amoun Sleem spoke and told men it was time for them to start doing the dishes so women could do their important work. Yup, love ‘em all.

There is a great poignancy, knowing as I do so well, that there is no way, none, for the ‘average Israeli’ – as though such a person exists! – to know the life of the ‘average Palestinian’ — as though such a person exists! — on the West Bank or Gaza. Just there on the other side of that 10 meter high wall. You can try to envision, but it is impossible, really.

It’s extraordinary that I, an American, can do what is illegal for an Israeli to do, visit the Palestinian Territories, and what is virtually impossible for most Palestinians in the West Bank and Gaza to do, come into Israel. Meet with each other. Talk with each other, share realities.

Arriving here for the Israeli and Palestinian book launches of Sixty Years, Sixty Voices: Israeli and Palestinian Women, knowing the book itself will carry the women’s voices to each other, knowing that an American woman, me, was the catalyst for a team determined to be a bridge across the wall and through the world is suddenly humbling.

When I ask deeply “why?” The answer comes, because there was a slot that needed to be filled. No heroics. Just simple.

Through all the year of immense work by the full team, we gained more than gave. The women in the book are the heroines.