Some geography basics, politically speaking

This is a picture of our particular area: Bethlehem. The upper left hand corner is part of Israel. Hopefully you can discern the "Green line" (it's a dotted green line) that goes from about the center of the top at an angle down towards the middle of the left hand side. This is the 1948 UN Armistice line for the West Bank.

The darker yellow areas of the map are the urban areas that are part of "Area A" (Oslo Peace Accords of 1995); the slightly lighter yellow color areas (hard to distinguish) are part of "Area C". We don't have much Area B in our area of Palestine.

The dark pink color indicates the established Israeli settlements; the lighter pink color shows areas that built up areas around Israeli settlements (for example, where construction is taking place, where agriculture is happening, location of outposts). The important thing to note is that anything pink (no matter what shade) is off limits to Palestinians.

You can also see lines squiggling around the map: the dark red ones show where the separation barrier (around here, we call it "the wall", since we mostly see the 8 meter high monstrosity) already exists; the light red is where the separation barrier is being constructed; the black is planned construction of the barrier. The grey lines are roads.

Finally, you may be able to discern dots. The red dots with the "x" are the checkpoints; the black dots are on the "settler's roads" and are tunnels or underpasses.

Please note:

• The red line of the separation barrier (and the sections under construction or planned) are deeply within the area that was designated as part of the West Bank in 1948;
• There are several villages which are isolated from the city of Bethlehem (the little yellow areas that are in a sea of grey -- which means that the Palestinians in the villages are not allowed to go in the grey areas, except with permission);
• In addition to the established Israeli settlements (some of which have been around since 1967, YEARS before the building of the separation barrier, but built at the time the territory was transferred from Jordanian military occupation to Israeli military occupation), there are planned settlements. For the most part, the planned settlements are actually extensions of the existing ones.
• It's hard to tell from this map, but Bethlehem is almost completely encircled by "Israeli only" areas. The pink settlement areas are easy to discern, as is the separation barrier. What's harder to see is that on the east and southern sides of the city, there's an "Israeli only" road. At this point, Palestinians are allowed to drive on parts of it. But, road construction is underway to build roads for the Palestinians to use instead. Two notes about that: guess whose land is used to build the road (without financial compensation, of course)?, and why have two completely separate sets of roads that essentially parallel each other? Ne'er the twain shall meet! The Palestinian set of roads goes under the Israeli roads when the two cross. Of course the Palestinian roads are below! If they were above, then those "terrorists" could throw stones on the Israeli cars. (I'm not kidding. This is how the settlers and policy makers think.)

There's much more to say, and you may have questions. Please post them below, but I'll also be writing again (and probably posting the map again for reference) about the political geography.

BTW, this is a United Nations - Office on the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs (UN-OCHA) map of the occupied Palestinian territories (oPt). They have great maps. So does ARIJ (Applied Research Institute - Jerusalem).

Good Shepherd Sunday

Psalm 23 (NRSV)
The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.
He makes me to lie down in green pastures;
he leads me beside still waters;
he restores my soul.
He leads me in right paths for his name's sake.

Even though I walk through the darkest valley,
I fear no evil;
for you are with me;
your rod and your staff--
they comfort me.

You prepare a table before
in the presence of my enemies;
you anoint my head with oil;
my cup overflows.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me
all the days of my life,
and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord
my whole life long.

Living in a place where you may encounter sheep grazing in the fields right next to your house or where a flock might be trotting down the street to be let into another field by their Bedu shepherd sure gives a new depth of meaning to this psalm.

Even with that new visual, I'm not sure I have a sermon in me today [I wrote this sermon last Sunday, but it's apropos for today as our lectionary calendar has us read this psalm this week]. I'm exhausted, on the edge and lacking resiliency. But, if I'm at this state after only 5 weeks in this area, can I even begin to fathom what life is like for people who have to live in this every day with no escape (or desire to leave the land that is home). As for me and my well-being, I would leave if I had the opportunity.

And, honestly, true confession time!, I avoid preaching on this text if I can. I don't really like it; it feels so overused that it has become trite in my ears.

But, here it is. God (and the creators of the lectionary cycle) have put it before me to hear, wrestle with, be spoken to and dwell deeply in the words, rhythms, images and grace that are this psalm. These particular phrases resonate deeply within me this time:
--I walk through the darkest valley, yet fear no evil
--[God] prepare[s] a table before me in the presence of my enemies.
--Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life

Early on in our time as a team in Bethlehem, we decided that we needed to be honest with each about the work we were engaging in and our limitations. We all 'fessed up at least one thing (that was expected of us as a team) that we did NOT want to do. Mine was "going to demonstrations". I've never liked demonstrations or protests. It may be in part because I don't want to be too public about my politics or ideas (says the preacher lady!). It may be because there's an element of danger in it (I like to be a rule follower and most of the time demonstrations are technically illegal, at least here in Palestine). And, I'm sure that a large part of this is that I don't want to be caught in any sort of cross-fire -- even if it's just words being thrown.

Whatever the reason, I don't like demonstrations.

But, they are a part of what we do each week. As a team, we are to participate in at least one demonstration each week (actually, that's now three. AHHHH!).

Talk about the darkest valley.

I've wondered sometimes if there is an entrenched cultural difference (made deeper in the past 43 years): if I'd lived under occupation for my whole life, would I be used to it? If I was raised under occupation and if there had always been less of my life that I had oversight for, would it be easier for me that the Israelis had tremendous control over me?

Then, there's the image of God preparing a table for me in the presence of my enemies. What?!?

My time here as radically shifted how I hear this portion of the text now: when one has enemies, real enemies, not just ones from petty griefs, who are wanting to destroy you (by bullets, policies, prisons, threats and/or prejudice), this image of God preparing a table for you in the presence of those enemies is incomprehensible.

It scares me.

It humbles me.

It even angers me. I do not want to eat with my enemies.

But, surely, God's mercy and goodness are with me all the days of my life. God's mercy invites me to the table to sit with and break bread with my enemies, to look beyond their bullets, policies, prisons, threats and prejudice. God's goodness brings light and hope into those darkest valleys of fear, even the fear that rises in me when I consider the danger that may come from standing in solidarity with someone.

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life. For you, O Lord, have walked in the darkest valleys and have eaten with those who are your bitterest enemies. And, through it all, you are compassion, goodness and mercy for all who need it.

Amen

Here comes the Wall, like it or not!

In a nearby community called Beit Jala (a hilly little town!), a portion of the separation barrier (between Israel and Palestine) is being built. In many places around Palestine, the barrier approximates the 1948 UN "Green Line" that demarcates the West Bank (it's usually built on Palestinian land inside the Green Line, but at least it's pretty close). There are, however, many places where the barrier makes deep cuts and excises great swaths of land out of Palestine, making the land, in effect, Israeli.

And, then, there are places where the Wall follows the "settlers' roads" (which, depending on the place and time, Palestinians are not allowed to drive on, even though, again, the roads are in the West Bank). One of those places where the Wall is along a settler road is in Beit Jala. The road actually goes through two or three tunnels (I honestly don't know as foreigners are not allowed on this particular road) underneath the town of Beit Jala. Because of the topography and the layout of the town, there are places where there are houses just above the road.

For "security" purposes, then, the military decided that the Wall (including an extra angled barrier atop the 8 meter high wall) needed to line the road so that the resident Palestinians (or anyone else who wanted to cause problems) couldn't stand by their houses and throw rocks on the cars going by down below.

The problem is, you might have figured out, that there are houses and yards and gardens and trees right where the wall is planned to be put it to protect the road.

Last Thursday (a busy day for both the military, and those responding to their egregious actions), a house lost its front yard, the children's play structure, part of their patio, and several of the generations-old olive trees that provided a portion of their income. In order to continue building the Wall. To protect a road from imagined danger and threat (danger that hasn't been realized in this place).

Because this is an occupation and one group has more power than the other.

Language

The words that we use are an important indication of what we think and believe. They also shape how we act and how we treat people.

In my own work and study (prior to coming to Palestine and Israel), I have been reading and talking about Compassionate Communication (a.k.a.: non-violent communication). There are many books, pamphlets, workshops, websites to learn about compassionate communication (I've listed a few at the end of the post), but there is a common theme through them all: we are, all of us, human.

When one uses one's thoughts and words to demonize the other, it is easy to loose compassion for the other and then it is a short slide down into treating the other badly (with abuses of words and actions). One of the central arguments of compassionate communication, then, is to think about (and speak about) all of the people whom you meet (even if you don't really like them) as human beings, and to work to build some sort of relationship with them.

But, I digress a bit from my intended topic....

What words do we use to describe the people in and the reality of this area?

Arabs or Palestinians? Arab is a general term that covers the people of a large geographic area. In the West Bank, people define themselves first as Palestinian. In Israel, which has a small population of people of Palestinian background, the term Arab-Israeli is most often used.

Israeli or Jew? This is a trickier question. Most people who live in Israel are Jewish, but not necessarily "religious" Jews. There are a significant number who are "secular", who consider themselves culturally and maybe even ethnically Jewish, but not necessarily religiously. They would most likely identify themselves as "Israeli." Those who self-identify as "Jewish" tend to be active in expressing their faith as reformed, conservative, orthodox or ultra-orthodox Jews. However, as I talk about or report about interactions between the two groups of people, I almost always use the terms "Palestinian" and "Israeli" (unless the topic is religious, and they I use "Palestinian Christian", "Palestinian Muslim" and "Israeli Jew").

Soldier: An Israeli person who serves in the Israeli Defense Forces. Each man and woman in Israel has a required two year term of service. He or she usually does this service following graduation from high school. Sometimes the soldiers come from other countries (every Jewish person in the world is welcome to come to Israel for a "birthright" tour and/or to immigrate. If one immigrates, one must also serve in the IDF; if one comes on tour, one may choose to serve in the IDF for the two years as well).

Military occupation: the use of military forces and military law to govern another people who live in land that is considered part of the occupying forces' land. Usually, military occupation is a temporary solution during a time of transition from war to peace. Rarely does military occupation last more than 40 years. In fact, one could argue that the only place it's lasted that long is in the West Bank.

West Bank or Palestine? When I am speaking of the occupation or about the Israeli government and military's relationship to the geographic area, I will often say West Bank. When I am speaking about the people who live here and about their life, or when I am conversing with them, I always speak of Palestine. An alternate form of that is "occupied Palestinian territories", or oPt. That is probably the most accurate term (it's also the longest).

Which brings up the question, why "West Bank" when the area is on the eastern side of the region mapped as "Israel"? The name comes from history: following in the 1948 war, the territory was occupied by the Transjordanian military and was labeled the "west bank" of the Jordan river. After 1967, when the Israelis "won back" the territory from the Jordanians (NB: name change of the country now called "Jordan") the name stayed.

Books about Compassionate Communication:
The Search for a Non-Violent Future, Michael Nagler
Non-Violent Communication, Marshall B. Rosenberg

Facebook response

One of my friends posted an editorial from the Huffington Post (written by Desmond Tutu about divestment in Israel). The comments that followed that post prompted me to write the following. It's a bit of a primer and just barely touches on the major issues. But, for your reading pleasure and as food for thought for the day:

I'm currently living in Palestine for a few months to work with a program that works with and assists Palestinians who are using non-violent forms of resistance to end the occupation.

There have been suicide bombers and rockets from the Palestinian side. This is true (although the majority of this happened during the second intifada 10 years ago).

Statistics show, however, that there have been a greater number of human rights violations against Palestinians by the Israelis than the other way around. The number of Palestinians who are detained without due process is high (the reverse has never happened). There are also a high number of children (ages 12-16) who have been detained for weeks or months (these are not necessarily stone throwing boys, by the way. These are kids who happen to be in the wrong place at the wrong time) without any notification of family.

But, what has been more appalling to me than any of that is the daily grind of humiliation and inhumanity of military occupation which affects

• economy (the unemployment rate is quite high, esp. in some areas of Palestine and, of course, in Gaza),
  
• family life (more than one village is cut off from their social network of family and friends because of the occupation and the separation barrier--often manifest as a 26 foot high concrete wall topped with an electric fence),
  
• education (kids who want to and could go to college/university are denied, by the Israeli military, the permits to go),
  
• religious expression (for example, Palestinian Christians and Muslims alike are limited in their movement for religious worship. At Easter, Palestinian Christians were denied the right to go to East Jerusalem (which is legally part of Palestine) to worship at the holy sites in the Old City. The Old City was full of faithful people, but they were all from other countries) and
  
• many other aspects of life.

In the mean time, there is a policy from the Israeli government and military to expropriate land, which is owned by Palestinians, to continue to expand housing, farming and construction for Israelis. When Palestinians attempt to use legal means to respond (read: attempt to keep their land), the courts often rule against Palestinians, or if the courts rule in favor of the Palestinian family, the military overrules the civil law and imposes military law.

Many Palestinians find themselves caught in a bind and are frustrated. Everywhere they turn, they encounter the reality of someone else (who has guns; every Israeli has the right to carry a gun and believe you me, many of them do) who tries to stop them from just living their daily life of family, work, learning religious expression.

Transportation

Going to the fields,
one way....
....or another.












To market, to market!













Take the service to work,

or the school bus to school
















Vote for one:
which do you think would make the better clown car? Seriously, I saw people driving these cars. And, sometimes, there are 5 or 6 people in cars this size!

Garbage, a really stinky problem

Last week, I was part of a series of workshops for women in a village near Bethlehem (I presented a brief overview of Compassionate communication/non-violence as a way of life). At the end of the week, one of the questions asked of the women who participated was: "what's one thing that you learned this week that you'll put into practice in your everyday life?"

Most of the women made general comments ("I think the water system in the village needs to be fixed", "I want there to be peace and for the occupation to end"). While those kinds of comments were made with great passion and hope, they were also quite general.

But Khadija said, "I think there is too much garbage in our village and I want to try to clean it up."

I say, "Go, Khadija!!" I agree with her and have, frankly, been appalled at the amount of garbage everywhere. In Bethlehem (and in all of the Palestinian cities which have services provided by the Palestinian Authority), there are large bins on the streets in which to throw garbage. They're not always emptied in a timely manner, even if they've filled up. Usually, someone will throw a match into the bin then, to burn up the garbage. UGH. Besides the pollution and toxins released into the air, the stench chokes me.

Even the refugee camp, which is run by the UN, has a garbage problem. My friend and housemate Stefan took the photo at the beginning of this post.

Recycling is not even considered as an option. Neither is composting. I cringe every time I throw a plastic bottle, tin can, or piece of paper into the garbage bag. AHHHHHH!

To the left and below are some pictures I took in Jericho earlier this week. The garbage dilemma seems to be exponentially worse there than in Bethlehem. These are all shots taken from the hotel I was staying at. These two that are side by side (just below) were taken from the balcony of the room I was staying in looking straight down and to the left.

The final photo is across a courtyard, as seen from the staircase.

Crossing the checkpoint. Or not, as the case may be, part 2

In my previous post, I wrote basic information (and thoughts) about the checkpoint process. About a week ago, I had my own specific and frustrating experience with the main Bethlehem checkpoint (called variously CP 300, Bethlehem CP or Gilo CP)

One afternoon, three of us were going through CP300 to meet with Efrat of Ta’ayush to go then to An Nu’man CP (yet another, very specific and specialized kind of checkpoint that we also monitor). It was 1:15pm and we were already running just a few minutes late. We passed through the first turnstile with no problems. But, then we got stuck in the terminal at the metal detectors. Hannah and Giselher were in one line and I in another. My line was moving at first, theirs was stopped. But, then, my line stopped (there were a lot of people/kids part of groups). I couldn’t decide if I should just jump over into the other line or stay where I was (after all, I was about half-way through my line and the other one wasn’t moving either). I sent Hannah a text message asking about the status of their line; she told me they were stuck too, so I stayed in place.

It seems the metal detector was having mechanical problems (poor girl who was stuck in the detector area!), so they finally closed the booth (after about 20 minutes). We then all moved to the other line (and jostled with each other to get the best place in this long line. Some people jumped in as close to the front as they could (after all, they'd also been waiting in line for a long time, why should they now end up in the back of the line?), others formed a big blob at the end and tried to jockey for a better position.

All told, I was in line for an hour and but I never did make it through. At first I was patient and resigned about it all, but as time went on and the line wasn’t moving, I became more irritated and even angry. Why? I realized later that it was because I was embarrassed to be so late to meet with Efrat; that she was having to wait for us. I felt awful about that. I talked to her once and sent her a couple of text messages, so she knew (and she said, “no worries”), but I was still concerned.


Finally, in great frustration, I left the line and went home (Hannah and Giselher had been through for about 30 minutes by that time); I sent the others on with Efrat to make our visit.

It was a taste of the frustration and annoyance that Palestinians deal with all the time.

Crossing the checkpoint. Or not, as the case may be, part 1

I've had the opportunity to monitor the big checkpoint on the edge of town in Bethlehem a few times by now. It is memorable.

A bit of background about "the checkpoint": every day, thousands upon thousands of Palestinians go to work on the other side of the separation barrier. There are three primary kinds of checkpoints to pass through.

• The agricultural gates are designed to allow farmers (usually JUST the owner of the land. Most days, no other helpers - even spouses or children - are allowed to pass through) to access their farmland (access which was cut off by the building of the separation barrier, usually, at this point, a razor-wire topped chain-link fence about 2.5 meters high).

• The vehicle checkpoints are some times staffed (and the bus is boarded to check permits/passports/visas, or the car passengers' papers must be checked).
• The terminal checkpoints are for foot traffic and are where the bulk of the workers pass through. To get through the terminal, one first passes through a turnstile and you show your passport or permit to a soldier (the terminals are all staffed by soldiers in the Israeli army -- this is an occupation, after all). It's at this point that, in Bethlehem at least, you actually pass through the 8 meter high wall. Then cross a parking lot (empty) to the terminal building itself. Once you're in the building, get in line (again) to go through another turnstile to pass through the metal detector (think airport security, but without the option of the wands if you keep making the detector beep). Make sure to take off EVERYTHING that is metal: belt, phone, watch, hairclip, jewelry, shoes that may have metal shanks or steel toes, glasses, etc. Once to get dressed again, go to the ID booth. It's at this point that the distinction between Palestinians and foreign nationals is most acute: I usually just flash my passport (once in awhile the soldier actually looks at it and even asks to see my visa); the Palestinians must place their permit against the bullet proof glass so the soldier can read it, then place their ID card on the magnetic reader, then place their right hand on the biometric reader (there's a real trick to doing all three of these things with only two hands). If the ID card, hand print and permit all match, the person is waved through (if, however, your handprint has changed at all, say, because you're a manual laborer and your skin is worn, then you're rejected, have to return to the Palestinian side and miss a day of work).

After monitoring the checkpoint a few days and seeing how the process works, I have figured out that the order back to the upper turnstile (the one at the Wall, which is the first access point and, in the early mornings, has at least 800 people lined up behind it) to open it up was based upon the rate at which the metal detectors were functioning (and people were passing through). A big wave of about 200 people would be let through the upper turnstile, then they’d work their way through the metal detectors, then another wave would be let through. Each wave took at least 15 minutes to be "processed". On average, about 450 people pass through the checkpoint in half an hour.

Here's one of my initial thoughts about the checkpoint process: I can see the internal logic for the various steps and for the set-up. That does not, however, make the whole thing right. Rather, I think the existence of the checkpoint (and the separation barrier) is immoral and illegal, negating the "rightness" of the process or the steps. Yes, a sovereign nation has the duty and responsibility to protect its borders. If this were actually a process that was taking place on the actual border between two actual countries, I would have different thoughts. However, the reality is that the separation barrier and the majority of the checkpoints are within the occupied Palestinian territories and they are created, built and staffed my members of the occupying forces with no plan of phasing out their presence (but, in fact, with continuing expansion plans in the works).

Life in spite of the occupation

In the past week, I've heard story after story after story of what life under occupation is like. Some of the stories are like the one told by Samar (see earlier post about checkpoints and bullying). Others are about a groups in this village and that village which empower women and provide an opportunity for social networking and economic cooperation. Still others are about separation from land and family for "security" reasons.

There is a mix of reality and of hope. Rarely (except one particularly disaffected shopkeeper) do I hear stories of despair and victimization. Amer in Tuq'ua, Jameela in Battir, Nasser in Husan, and Mahmoud in al-Walaja are all very realistic about what life is like under occupation:

• The soldiers come and throw tear gas canisters in the school yard in retaliation for a few boys throwing stones (after being provoked and hand searched by those same soldiers just a few minutes earlier);
• The railroad track that runs along the bottom of the valley which has been around since the Ottoman empire (e.g. at least 100 years) and used to be available for people and the regionally famous eggplants to get to Jerusalem is now cut off from the village by a high chain link fence topped with razor wire. Should the fence not be enough to deter you from trying to get to the train, watch out for the high powered cameras that are placed at the top of the nearby hillsides which watch every movement in the village;
• Soldiers locked the community center's director in the bathroom for four hours while they systematically demolished all of the medical equipment used in the health clinic based in the center;
• A new section of the separation wall will be built on the edge of the village. In order to create the path for the wall to follow, a forest of trees have been uprooted. In the end, the village population will be completely cut off from their agricultural lands (farmers in Palestine usually live in town and go out to their fields each day. The path of the wall usually goes close to the built up areas with little to no regard for the corresponding agricultural lands).

Yet, the teachers at the boy's school (all men) mentor and encourage the boys to respect each other and the world around them, UNESCO is mapping out the ancient city, its aquifers and its farming terraces that overlook the railroad tracks, the community center continues to provide a space for women and children to gather (and to give the limited health care that they can), and the village being surrounded by the wall fights in court for every meter of land that they can win back for the village and for the farmers.

Everywhere I go, I meet Palestinians who are kind, generous, unfailingly hospitable and unflappable. I feel safer walking in the streets of Bethlehem than I do in many cities in the United States. "The outside world thinks that Palestinians are terrorists" (I hear this every day at least twice a day from the people I talk with). But, in truth, they are not. Of course, there are angry and frustrated people who have tried every legal and moral avenue to keep their land, their homes, their families. When they are thwarted at every turn, some act out.

The truth is, however, that many, many more chose to keep living life. They find creative ways to reclaim their heritage, to learn, to meet new people, to maintain their humanity and dignity.

Yesterday, I met a fiery force of nature in the form of a woman named Jameela. She invited three of us to her village to see the beauty of the place, to hear the stories of what life is like, and, of course, to eat lots and lots of food (it's a good thing I'm walking so much while I'm here!). She asked all three of us if this was our first time to Palestine. For us, it was (the other member of our team has been to Palestine two other times). She then asked if we would come back.

I told her that, yes, of course I would. But that I hoped that the next time I came, my passport would be stamped with a visa from Palestine instead of from Israel.

Inshallah!

Resurrection Day

Mark 16:1-8
"When the sabbath was over, Mary Magdalene, and Mary the mother of James, and Salome bought spices, so that they might go and anoint him. And very early on the first day of the week, when the sun had risen, they went to the tomb. They had been saying to one another, "Who will roll away the stone for us from the entrance to the tomb?" When they looked up, they saw that the stone, which was very large, had already been rolled back. As they entered the tomb, they saw a young man, dressed in a white robe, sitting on the right side; and they were alarmed. But he said to them, 'Do not be alarmed; you are looking for Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified. He has been raised; he is not here. Look, there is the place they laid him. But go, tell his disciples and Peter that he is going ahead of you to Galilee; there you will see him, just as he told you.' So they went out and fled from the tomb, for terror and amazement had seized them; and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid." (NRSV)

As I sit in church in Bethlehem at Christmas Lutheran Church where almost everything is in Arabic (except the epistle reading, which was read in German today), I read the scripture for the day (a different lectionary cycle) and come up with sermons. Today, as I read the resurrection story from Mark's gospel, I was struck by the question the women ask one another: "Who will roll the stone away from the entrance to the tomb?"

This question, as it turns out, pointed to a non-issue. For, "when they looked up, they saw that the stone ... had already been rolled back."

The question and the startled observation raised questions in my mind: Whose plan are we a part of? Whose work are we doing? Do we get so involved in the tasks we've set our minds to that we miss (or come close to missing, or are surprised by) the work that God is already doing? Have we missed the stone, which is very large, that God has already rolled away?

So often, I think that I have to make things happen and if I don't work hard, nothing will get going. In my second year of college, I was part of Leadership Effectiveness And Development (LEAD) Team, a group which learned about and shared styles and methods of leadership, and empowered students to claim their own leadership potential.

Recently, the sporting goods company, Nike, had coined the slogan "just do it" (TM), so we knew that, while those words fit our purpose, we couldn't use that one. Instead, we came up with "Make It Happen" as our vision, mission and purpose statement (even though those labels were not yet in vogue).

I'm a bit embarrassed now about this statement (in truth, I was at the time, too) -- how presumptuous to make something happen. What about the things beyond our control? Or, the other people involved who many not like or want to be pawns in our activity that we're making happen?

Yet, this sort of attitude is pervasive in our culture:
Just do it! Make it happen!
You are master of your own destiny.
Pull yourself up by your own bootstraps.
Go from rags to riches, just like Horatio Algiers.

But, then here come Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James and Salome, with a task to do ("make it happen, girls!") and the worries, confusion and grief of the past few days. As they went on their way to do their task, they asked themselves the question, "How will we make this happen, this caring-for-Jesus'-body task we have before us? There's a big stone in the way!"

They were so intent on this puzzling problem that they almost missed God at work.

It turns out that it wasn't up to them to make things happen.

It's not up to us to make God's work happen either. We participate with God, we answer God's call, we are challenged by God's invitation to live the life and grace we've been given. But, God makes things happen (or not, as the case may be). God is the initiator and the actor. God rolls back the very large stone.

So, look up. See where the stones have been rolled away. Pay attention to the work that God is doing for us, and follow the Way that is made for you to go.

Oh, and, by the way, be not afraid!

The Holy Fire: the Light of Christ

In spite of the restrictions that the Israeli government placed upon Palestinian Christians to travel to places of worship for Holy Week and Easter celebrations, limits could not be placed upon the faith, reverence and sense of anticipation throughout the week.

In the towns of Bethlehem and Beit Sahour, which, along with the neighboring town of Beit Jala, have a significant Christian presence, worship services, mass and parades were celebrated in high style. Christians from these towns may wanted to go to Jerusalem for the lighting of the Holy Fire in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre and had the correct permit, but were hampered by travel restrictions for Palestinians during the concurrent Jewish holiday of Passover (Pesach). Sami and his family of a Lutheran congregation in the area were scheduled to go to Jerusalem to celebrate the Easter weekend with his wife's family. When they went to the checkpoint to go through, they discovered that it had been closed so they returned home. "There's always next year," Sami said with a wry smile and a shrug.

In a faithful statement about God's presence in every place and in every time regardless of occupations, governments or checkpoints, the Palestinian Christians of Beit Sahour and the surrounding area, gathered together to welcome the arrival of the Holy Fire into their town, their churches and their homes.

Scout groups and school bands marched and played music (the dueling bagpipe groups!), leading the procession of the Orthodox priests and the throngs of people. The jubilant crowd created a carnival atmosphere with balloons carried, ice cream eaten and shared, and pictures of family and friends in their Easter finery being taken as we all waited with growing anticipation for the arrival of the Holy Fire which was being brought from Jerusalem (oh, and the Prime Minister of the Palestinian Authority Salam Fayyad was to make an appearance as well).

When the Holy Fire arrived - in a taxi, no less - the crowd erupted in shouts and cheers, people pressed in upon one another to get as close as they could and the cameras popped up like daisies on the stems of arms. The procession inverted itself and marched back down the streets of town to the Orthodox church where the faithful could take their candles and lanterns in to light them from the Holy Fire to be ablaze in their homes and lives.

In the land and place revered and called holy, the limitations that governments, bureaucracy, military and people want to place upon one another and their faith falls away in the face of that faith and of God's presence in their lives. Indeed, nothing can separate us from the love of God in Christ!

For several years as a child, I lived on a US Navy base in Japan. Our house was located fairly close the the main gate for the base and periodically we would hear the demonstrations outside the gates (which had been locked for the occasion). The demonstrators were mostly Japanese people (at least 100 of them each time) who were protesting the presence of nuclear warheads on the battleships and submarines stationed at the base.

The demonstrations were, as I remember them, always peaceful but included lots of shouting and sign waving. They also were something to schedule around as the gates would be closed meaning no one could enter or leave the base.

I don't know if it's my natural inclination towards "following the rules" or this fairly early experience with the troublesomeness of demonstrations, but I've never wanted to be a part of one. I don't want to go and it makes me anxious to even think about participating in a demonstration.

So, imagine my nervousness when I learned that one of our regular activities with EAPPI in Bethlehem is to participate in a non-violent demonstration each Friday in the town of al-Masara!

But, I put on my big girl panties, got in the taxi with my other team members and went to the demonstration.

At first, we stood around with about 20 other international folks (activists of various kinds from various places). And, we stood around. And, we stood around. AH! Finally the town's organizer showed up (they'd been at Friday prayers at the mosque). And, we joined up with about 100 Palestinian people -- mostly men, but about 10 women as well. I recognized a man I'd met at the Palm Sunday march, so I had someone who could help me navigate the demonstration (btw, NOT knowing the language is a MAJOR disadvantage. Note to self: learn Arabic!).

All went well, really well. We marched to the line of razor wire and were facing about 15 soldiers of the Israeli army. Speeches were made, slogans were said, pictures were taken (by both sides. Turns out the army takes pictures of people at the demonstrations so they can blacklist them. Hmm, maybe I should've worn a scarf....).

After about 20-25 minutes, some of the young men (18-22 or so) couldn't stand the non-action and somebody lobbed a stone. No surprise, the army came straight on. The Palestinians ran; one of the Palestinian organizers was yelling at the boys to stop throwing the stones -- this is a non-violent demonstration. The journalists were busy snapping photos. The international activists started talking back to the soldiers. I found a wall I could plaster myself against and pretend like I wasn't there.

Because of the route that the soldiers took -- down the main road -- I was stuck on the wrong side (not just me, the whole team and about 20 other people). In some ways, though, that was good. When the stun grenades were lobbed, they were thrown the other direction -- away from me. Same with the tear gas. All in all, two international folks were arrested; the soldiers remained on high alert, but once they felt in control again, it was fine. THAT'S when this picture was taken.

I admit that there was a bit of an adrenaline rush when all of the activity was going on; I didn't feel much of anything (no fear, no anxiety). Rather, I was reacting and responding to what was happening. When the action was over, my main concern was: where are my teammates? Let's regroup!

Poetry from Nasser

Yesterday, our team visited with a leader in a nearby village named Husan. This village was one of the places where the 1st and 2nd intifadas were active. As the 1st intifada was in 1987, this leader, Nasser, was a fairly young man and as time has elapsed and he's gained more experience and wisdom, he's turned quite firmly to non-violence as a way of life.

He's also quite poetic in his speech.

Here are three examples:
"This is our food. This occupation is what they feed us."

"We Palestinians want to give you a real flower, the real story, even if it's not perfect. It's better than the fake, perfect one."

"If you only look to the darkness, you only see darkness. But we tell [the women] to start the light."

Seneca quote

"Sometimes even to live is an act of courage."