Better, or Worse?

Eye exams consist of several different tests. The one that first comes to mind is the reading of the eye chart, line by line, until the letters are so small you can no longer distinguish the Q's from the O's, or the I's from the L's. But another common exam uses different lenses to fine tune which prescription will help someone to see more clearly.

Usually the patient is asked to stare at an object across the room - like the big "E" on the eye chart. Then the doctor moves a mask-like machine in front of the patient's face for them to look through. The doctor flips one lens down, and then another, asking the individual to choose which one allows them to see the "E" most clearly:

"Which is better?" the doctor will ask,

"One?"  
*click*

"Or two?"  
*click*

I'm reminded of this simple procedure as I go about my daily life here in Jerusalem. Sometimes it feels as if something as tangible as a lens is being flipped down in front of my vision - and it's up to me to decide whether it makes things more clear, or blurry.

Yesterday morning I watched from my office window as a car was randomly stopped by soldiers on the side of the road. The driver wasn't speeding or doing anything else illegal, but the car looked old, with unpainted door panels, and two young Palestinian men were in the front seat. This alone is enough cause for "suspicion."

Five armed soldiers approached the car and searched it. They brought each man out, one at a time, and did a full body search of them. The first one seemed to take everything in a good humor. He even smiled as the soldier told him to remove his jacket and un-tuck his shirt. They had him turn around and place his hands against the wall while they patted him down. I watched as they searched every inch of his body, putting their hands in his pants pockets, feeling around his waistband, checking for a knife. They shook his jacket out too, checked the pockets in it. When nothing was found he was allowed to stand to the side while the other man was taken out of the car.

This one didn't seem to be in the mood to act as docile as the other. He got frustrated when the soldier told him to put his hands up on the wall. Heated words were exchanged. He was arguing with the soldier, telling him something, but all it resulted in was his arms being roughly twisted behind his back; the soldier held his wrists together in one hand while he used the other to search him.

Again, nothing was found. A more thorough inspection of the car then took place - lifting up floor mats, checking the trunk and the space underneath the spare tire. Finally, after a total of about 15 minutes of searching, the men were released to go on their way.

Tensions are high again. If they ever really lowered. There was an attack two days ago at Damascus Gate in the center of Jerusalem - a place of high tension where many attacks have occurred since things started boiling over the first of October. Three young Palestinian men, in their early twenties, came with a rifle and knives and pipe bombs, assumingly with the intention of carrying out a mass attack. They were stopped before they could carry it out, though, and instead attacked two border police women.

The women were 19 years old. It was their first day on duty. They'd only been recruited two months ago to begin training. One was shot and killed, the other stabbed and seriously wounded. All three attackers were shot and killed on scene.

Before coming into work that morning I had taken Ellie to a small, gated, grassy area, and we played fetch. Hard to believe it was the same morning. Hard to believe these things can somehow coexist within the same 24 hour period, in the same city.

The lenses come down - better, or worse?

*click*
A man being searched for no reason; humiliated, degraded, treated like a criminal.

*click*
Ellie running, carrying a stick three sizes too large for her body.

*click*
She was only 19 years old - what does her family do now?

*click*
My friends and I discuss various stabbing attacks over dinner; realize that we are unphased, that the topic has become routine, de rigueur; as if we were discussing the weather.

*click*
Ellie befriends a brave neighborhood cat; their noses touch briefly.

*click*
Demolition orders for the homes of the families of the three men who carried out the attack; work permits revoked for each family member; the town where the men were from completely shut down, no one allowed to enter or leave for the last two days.

Better, or worse? Is it possible that every lens just makes it look more blurry?

The positive things contrast so starkly with the negative that the effect is dizzying. I can lose myself in the joyful excitement of puppy hood and immerse myself with friends and weekend trips to Tel Aviv, but inevitably, reality will hit the second I check the news.

Or is it the other way around? Which reality is the most real? The morning I spent with Ellie playing fetch, sun shining bright, the whole day ahead of us? Or my watching as the two men got searched right outside the window? Do we distract ourselves from the dark sides of life, or do the dark sides distract us from living life?

Better, or worse?