Palestinian Land Day

Salam and a group of her friends each grabbed an olive tree sapling, a pick ax, a shovel or some of the other tools to use to plant trees. The teenaged school girls from the Greek Orthodox school in Beit Sahour were part of the 11th grade class trip to celebrate Palestinian Land Day. Organizers had 150 olive trees lined up and ready for the students to put their hands to the tools to establish a new olive grove. Salam and her friends were there to "plant trees for Land day [as we do] every year on this day."

Palestinian Land Day, observed on March 30th and the surrounding days, honors the land, remembers the land lost through the more than 60 year conflict in the region and works in small ways to reclaim some of the land.

Just outside of the town of Beit Sahour (south east from Bethlehem) a municipal park has been built on land that has been tussled over. After 1948, the land was used as a Jordanian military camp. When the Israeli army defeated the Jordanians in 1968, the area reverted to an Israeli military camp that was later abandoned. Various plans have been talked about for the area: Israeli settlers groups are working to establish a new settlement in the area (which they already call Shdema), the villagers in Beit Sahour have built the municipal park and have plans for a children's hospital that they've not been able to begin building. The land is clearly within the West Bank, but because it is officially identified as "Area C" and a "military zone", both Palestinians and Israelis lay claim to the ground.

Women, children and students of Beit Sahour and the surrounding villages were invited by organizers to come on Palestinian Land Day for a social day (for some children -- and their mothers! -- this was the first time they'd been to a playground) and to re-establish an olive grove. As Salam said, "They have taken [the land], and we are planting trees to prove that this is our land."

Salam and her classmates were enthusiastic workers, even if they weren't quite sure what to do. Men from the area gave instructions on transplanting the trees (cut away the black plastic bags, dig a hole with the pick-ax and shovel like this, make sure the hole is big enough, drop the tree in -- right side up!, pound the training stick into the dirt as close to the stem as possible, put a plastic sleeve around the tree so the sheep don't eat the tender leaves and repack the dirt around the tree) and then the students went to work.

Of checkpoints, schoolchildren and bullying

A significant part of our work in the occupied Palestinian territory (oPt) is, as we call it in clergy circles, "a ministry of presence". Most of the time that means showing up to be with people, but it also includes listening to stories of grief, brutality or oppression.

Yesterday, my team and I went to the small village of An Nu'man (population of about 200 people and not just a few chickens!) which through bureaucratic error was annexed into the municipality of Jerusalem even though it's just a few kilometers from Bethlehem and is connected in that direction. Because the municipality line was moved, the separation barrier was built by the Israeli government to encircle the village thus cutting it off from Bethlehem (and any family members of the villagers who live there).

Every school day, the children of the village have to go through the Israeli checkpoint in the morning and afternoon to get to/from school. Sometimes that's a very easy process with no delays: the children come through one door into the cubicle, pass through the metal detector, catch the eye of the soldier in the booth, are waved through and then exit the other door.

But often the process is not so simple or safe.

Yesterday, we heard Samar, a twelve year old girl, tell us that last week, the soldier who was staffing the booth opened the access window (a steel framed, triple-thick bulletproof glass mini-door) and pointed a gun at her head.

When I asked her what she was thinking when that happened, she laughed and said, "It's normal." A teacher who lives in the village echoed her, "This is normal. If it wasn't like this, it would be strange."

In the coming weeks, our team will continue to go to and pass through this checkpoint (as a foreign national, we are allowed to pass through the checkpoints by showing our passports. Yesterday, the soldiers also asked to see our tourist visas). We cannot stand in the cubicle, the soldiers would not allow that. However, we will show up randomly to pass through, visit the villagers, continue to hear stories and be a compassionate presence for them.

And now, a word from Jelal al-Din Rumi

As I'm feeling a bit meditative this morning, I read some poetry from Rumi. This one resonated, so I share it with you:
"A Necessary Autumn Inside Each"

You and I have spoken all these words, but as for the way we have to go, words

are no preparation. There is no getting ready, other than grace. My faults

have stayed hidden. One might call that a preparation! I have on small drop

of knowing in my soul. Let it dissolve in your ocean. There are so many threats to it.

Inside each of us, there's continual autumn. Our leaves fall and are blown out

over the water. A crow sits in the blackened limbs and talks about what's gone. Then

your generosity returns: spring, moisture, intelligence, the scent of hyacinth and rose

and cypress. Joseph is back! And if you don't feel in yourself the freshness of

Joseph, be Jacob! Weep and then smile. Don't pretend to know something you haven't experienced.

There's a necessary dying, and then Jesus is breathing again. Very little grows on jagged

rock. Be ground. Be crumbled, so wildflowers will come up where you are. You've been

stony for too many years. Try something different. Surrender.

(translated by Coleman Barks, in The Soul of Rumi, HarperSanFrancisco, 2001, p. 21)

A preacher's task

One of the realities of the call of a pastor (in my experience, at least) is that even when one doesn't need to prepare a sermon, they often appear in ones head anyway. Sunday, March 21st was my first Sunday in the occupied Palestinian territories; the new Bethlehem was visiting with and learning from the outgoing Bethlehem team. We all went to worship at Christmas Lutheran Church in the old city, where Rev. Mitri Raheb serves as pastor.

Well, as I neither speak nor understand Arabic, I wrote my own sermon on the Gospel text as Pastor Raheb preached in Arabic. Here is the sermon I scribbled on the back of our hymn inserts based on Mark 10:35-45:

What does it mean to be a slave [v.44] to the other?

v. 42: "Jesus...said, 'You know that those who are regarded as rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and their high officials exercise authority over them. [43]Not so with you....'"

How the tables seem to have turned here in Palestine and in Jerusalem!
The Gentiles (or non-Jews) are now the oppressed!

Not so with you.
Not so with you.
How do we keep from being the oppressor?
Last week, I was part of a conversation with two Palestinian men in their late 20s, Basil and Mahmoud, regarding their village outside of Bethlehem that will be surrounded by the separation barrier (in the form of a concrete wall). They want to change everything about the situation around them and were adamant about their desire. Yet, one thoughtfully said, "There is always the danger of the oppressed becoming the oppressor."

How do we keep this chain from continuing?
How do we end the pattern of the oppressed becoming the oppressor who in turn becomes an oppressor?
How can we be different from the trend that precedes us?


Not so with you.

We are called to a different Way.
We must choose the other Way.
But, can we? Will we?

I was so surprised and relieved -- no, humbled --
that Basil's dream is of a single state where people want to live together in spite of their differences.
A single state where they choose the other Way -- the Way of Christ, the Way of Allah, the Way of Yahweh and covenant.

Is it utopian? I suppose some will call it that.
But that young, passionate firebrand of sorts -- an idealist philosopher --
who grieves and is angered by what has happened and continues to happen and what may happen
has a dream such as this fills me with hope and gratitude.

May we hear the call to be slaves to the other
to serve and give on oneself for the other and for the whole.
This means that you have to let go of your own agenda
and turn to enter into the invitation to be a part of God's dream and God's Way.
Amen

The philosophers

Several days ago, some of us went to the village of Al Walaja (ahl WAH-lah-jah) to meet some of the contacts there and get an introduction to the village and it's issues. The two main contacts are young men named Basil (BAH-sil)and Mahmoud (of course, with the name Basil, I think of Basil the Great, his brother Gregory of Nyssa and their friend Gregory of Nazianzus, all great theologians in the early church. But, then, I'm a church geek).

This Basil and his friend Mahmoud are both from the village, but have been educated elsewhere. They came back to live in this town because it's home. Basil is a pharmacist who works at one of the refugee camps in East Jerusalem (he has a hefty commute everyday). Mahmoud runs the Ansar center (for Palestinian culture and social services) in the village. They are both passionate men in their late 20s who feel very strongly that the occupation of Palestine is wrong. Of course, for them, this is a very personal issue as well: the village of Al-Walaja will be surrounded completely by the "security wall" (yes, completely encircled) and some of the houses have demolition orders (to make way for the wall to be built). As Basil put it, "we will be under siege". Nearby, there is a settlement (a large complex of apartment buildings built on West Bank/Palestinian land with the blessing of the Israeli government for Israeli citizens) that wants to expand. So, land from the nearby town of Al Walaja has been expropriated for that use.

Not surprisingly, the villagers are very concerned. They've already lots many dounoms (a measurement of area) throughout history that were the arable lands (often Palestinians will live in the village, but have land outside of town which they farm. It is not like farming in the US where most folks live on their land right next to their work). Now, they're loosing more farmland, plus the land under their houses.

To add insult to injury, the homeowner is often given a bill for the demolition that was ordered by the army which, of course, they're required to pay.

Basil offered an opinion (OK, he offered many opinions! After all, he IS a philosopher) that the solution to the occupation was NOT a 3rd intifada (as the rumours have been) but a "one-state solution" in which Arabs and Israelis, Moslems, Christians and Jews would all live together. He even had a plan to implement this solution!

I hope to meet more visionaries and thinkers like Basil and Mahmoud in my time visiting the villages around Bethlehem.

PS: I forgot my camera the day we went to visit, so no photos of the philosophers. Sorry.

The pastoral setting of the village of An Numan belies a complicated and disturbing legal reality: traditionally the village has been part of the Bethlehem governate (a little like a county), but the borders of the city of Jerusalem were extended to include the land of and around the village. That meant that all of the sudden, the Palestinian people were living in Jerusalem, not the West Bank. It also meant that they have been summarily cut off from the neighboring villages. In 2005 a checkpoint was installed along the road just before the turn off for the village. All of the residents pass through the checkpoint each day as they go to and from any point in the West Bank (including the school which a number of the children attend) as they are now legally considered permanent residents of Jerusalem. Yet they are still Palestinian and do not have legal status as Israeli citizens. A few of the residents have Jerusalem cards (all Palestinians either have West Bank resident cards or Jerusalem cards. The cards are not the same; holders of Jerusalem cards have a slightly larger scope of activities open to them including, for example, the option to travel through the main Israeli airport. West Bank card holders must cross into Jordan and to fly out of the international airport in Amman, Jordan), but it's a very long, complicated, and time consuming process to get a Jerusalem card.
Of course, this strange status of the village and the villagers means that they are cut off from family (they can leave their village to visit family who are in a neighboring village, but family cannot come to see them as no West Bank card holders are allowed through this particular checkpoint), and services such as plumbers, electricians, and emergency care from Bethlehem, the closest city. In other words, the village is isolated from the larger community and network of Palestinians. For a people that are centered in community life and the connective web of extended family, this isolation is heartbreaking.

Today, myself and three others from the team went to visit the village. We have a contact there, a currently unemployed 23 year old geography teacher who speaks English very well. The last time members of the team tried to cross at the checkpoint (which shouldn't be a problem as internationals are free to cross into Jerusalem), they were refused passage. But, today, we passed through the checkpoint with no problems (it probably helped that there was a bevy of young girls ages 6-10 or so just in front of us).

We hiked up the road to the village and were rewarded with a fantastic view of the surrounding area including Bethlehem, the neighboring villages, the "settlers' road" (which is lined with an electric fence on both sides), and the nearby settlement which has expansion plans which would further encroach upon the traditional farming lands of the villagers. It was a beautiful spring day and we had a lovely visit with Sabreen (and her younger brother who tagged along with us and climbed an olive tree, see photo). We walked through the village, stopped to visit another young woman named Safira (who recently passed her driving test!), and then walked down through the fields to an old abandoned house. It was such a pleasant day and, despite the checkpoint, the fence, the jets flying overhead and the nearby settlement, we thoroughly enjoyed ourselves. Gunnar, Phil and Stefan all joked that they would like to move to this village for retirement as it was such a peaceful place today.

I hope and pray that the villagers will continue to live and find a way to thrive in a place of such refreshment and that it WILL be a peaceful place again for good.

A wedding!

We're in Bethlehem (for a few days for initial training) and got to go to a wedding in the afternoon. The groom is the cousin of a man who has a coffee cart at the Bethlehem checkpoint (so the EAs have gotten to know Ameen and he invited the group to the wedding). First, we were late (oops!) and everyone had already feasted (including us - we'd eaten with the other Bethlehem team members). But, they brought us food anyway: a drink of buffalo milk, butter and spices; roasted lamb shank and rice. And, of course the ubiquitous coffee!

After visiting Ameen's house and meeting his family, three of us (the women in the group) went to the new couple's house where the women were celebrating and dancing. Each time a new woman came, she was to dance for the bride and then move back and join the clapping crowd. (Of course, I didn't know that at first!)

The groom was very happy and proud that he was married -- he wanted to show us the master bedroom with its new furniture, including the view across the way which included the Dead Sea and the near Jordanian hills.


Tu'qua, the setting for the wedding, is a Palestinian village that has a Jewish settlement nearby. Because of the topography, you cannot really see the settlement from the village. Instead, we were looking out over the valley across fields, trees, and houses.

The other very interesting place we visited is called Tent of Nations www.tentofnations.org. It is located on the land of a Palestinian family on a beautiful hillside with a fantastic view of the hill country on three sides, but officials and the army are trying to chase (force?) the family off of their land. In response, the family has filed a lawsuit with the Israeli court with documents to prove that the land has been in the family for generations. The suit is still pending, and the family maintains a constant presence with the help of international people. brothers Dauod and Daher are committed to peaceful and non-violent interactions and to Palestine. They, along with Dauod's wife Jihan run a summer camp for children (many are from one of the refugee camps in Bethlehem) and welcome international volunteers/visitors for two weeks in the summer. This spring they will also be hosting a Women's Week with women from a nearby village. I'm hoping to participate at least one day of this conference/workshop.

Dauod is a fascinating man to talk with and listen to -- he is quite passionate -- but the most interesting story he told us was of a boy (about 13 years old) who was at the summer camp who covered his eyes when he was on site. The boy said that the view was too far; he'd never seen anything that far off and it hurt his eyes. In other words, he was only familiar with the view inside the refugee camp and in the city of Bethlehem; he'd never had the opportunity to be on or see the view from the farm land and space outside the city. This experience of seeing hills and valleys and all that one can see from the Tent of Nations site was beyond anything he could comprehend. Yet, here was the chance to open his eyes, his mind and his heart to the land and his part of it.

Hope, indeed.

Just a tourist today...

Even though we arrived via the airport at Tel Aviv yesterday (so was technically our first day), today FEELS like the first day of being here. As expected, jet lag is rearing its tired head.

But, we began the morning as a large group (we're all here -- all 26 of us) and did a mini-walking tour of the area around our hotel and this side of the Old City of Jerusalem (part of what is called East Jerusalem -- the Palestinian side). We split into smaller groups to continue wandering, touring, or going back for naps. Three of us -- myself, Kathy (the other Ecumenical Accompanier (EA) from the US) and Manon (a woman from Germany) -- decided to stay in the Old City and try our hand at interpreting the map from the Tourist Office (not particularly detailed!). I'm happy to report that my map reading skills and sense of direction are as sharp as ever, despite my jet lag.

We found the Lutheran Church of the Redeemer, the Church of the Holy Sepulcher and a very good restaurant. Then we met up with a former EA who happens to be in town and wandered our way into the Moslem Quarter of the Old City, down part of Via Dolorosa and then to the Western Wall.

There are many, many soldiers and police around everywhere in the Old City, including some on horseback. When we first came into the Old City (about 11am), there was hardly anyone around. Some shops were open, but there were no customers. It was a bit eerie. After lunch, we started to see more people including many, many tourists from around the world.

We learned that the reason for the dearth of people and the large number of police and security forces was that four days ago a new synagogue opened very close to Haram al-Sharif (also known as Temple Mount). For that day and the next three, the entire Old City was closed to anyone who wasn't Jewish (particularly Orthodox) or who didn't live in the Old City. So, no tourists; no visitors; and definitely no Palestinians.

Now, I think it might be time for a nap.