"You have heard...But I tell you..."

What I’ve Learned: The LONG Version :)

In response to the plague of emails asking me if I made it home okay, yes, I did. I’m sorry I didn’t update earlier. It’s been quite a journey: I was stranded at O’Hare when tornadoes canceled my flight to Arizona, and upon getting to Arizona I’ve been rather sick.  Yuck.

Security: I had a much easier time with security than some of my other friends. I’m not sure why, although I have to admit I was a bit shameless with my flirting. Actually, having gone through the security system with an ‘average’ experience, I can appreciate how Ben Gurion Airport is the most secure airport in the world.  Israel is admitably in quite a vulnerable position. There is worldwide anger towards the government’s policies and, with the tendency of some individuals to inappropriately respond to anger with violence, I can appreciate their thoroughness in screening passengers and their belongings.

Perspective: Daily, with conversations and more reflection, I am developing my perspective and understanding of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. A wise friend reminded me before I left that the more you seek to understand all the perspectives of a conflict, the more questions you have. That is exactly what has happened. My whole experience in Palestine has richly blessed me with an intimate knowledge of the Palestinian plight that is not readily available in our Western media. I have a deeper understanding of the surmounting hardship, oppression and injustice Palestinians face on a daily basis. Yet, I also now see the internal responsibilities and transformations the Palestinians must take within their own society if they want change. I’ve also begun to figure out my feelings about Israel. Honestly, I’ve been very confused because my passions for justice for Palestine seemed as if it should place me at odds with their occupying power. Yet, I love Israel. I find the way religion plays itself out within the Israeli state fascinating and intriguing. Most of the Israelis I met were very engaging and generous. I have begun to learn that a government’s actions don’t necessarily reflect the full will of the people. As an American, I can relate.

Extremists: The Israeli government is enacting and aggressively pursuing some unacceptable policies—especially when it comes to the illegal settlements built throughout the West Bank—that even the most zealous Israelis I talked with (except, of course, the settlers) condemned. Frequently I’ve been asked what I think should happen in Israel/Palestine. My honest belief is that before anything can change the settlements need to be dismantled. It will be difficult because of the zealous and fanatical nature of the settlers, but it needs to happen. I find myself frequently discussing how it feels like it is the actions of a few radical individuals on both sides that keep this conflict going. Personally, as I watched the settlers encroach on Beit Sahour and knowing that international attention or aid was not going to come halt their illegal actions (condemned even by the United States), I felt the power of hopelessness and felt the temptation to react with violence. Violence only begets more violence but unfortunately, violence is a tempting and immediate way to react. When Palestinians respond to hopeless injustice with violence the response they get is an even greater violent retaliation, which then causes more hopelessness, and the cycle just continues and escalates. Tragically, it is the mass population who bears the consequences of this violence. Kassam rockets fired out of Gaza do not hit the government policy makers, they hit civilians. The Separation Wall does not stop those determined to inflict harm, it just stops the average Palestinian from accessing their land and only source of income. I’m thrown to the ground when I try to fathom the proper response and have developed a deep compassion and sympathy for both Israeli and Palestinian leaders. It’s a mess that requires an innovative and creative solution.

Personally: This summer I learned a lot about my responsibility to society and to seek social justice. Christ’s teaching has taken a whole new meaning to me as I understand his teachings and guidance to the Jewish people under Roman occupation. The most frequent command in the New Testament is to love. I’m starting to understand that loving my neighbor requires me to fight for their justice and equality no matter their label. I’ve been frightened realizing the sacrifice that may require, but I feel like I am now living under an obligation. I find myself wishing I could just be happy and satisfied with a life of seeking comfort and luxury but I don’t believe that is what we are called to seek. Many people have commented to me that they don’t think working for peace in the Middle East is worthwhile because they believe that Biblically they are told it will always be in conflict until Christ or the Messiah returns. I believe God does not desire his children to live in conflict and violence. He calls us to pursue love and understanding. Although it may not ever be perfectly realized in the human realm I believe it is our obligation to one another to lift up and support those who need it. We must not push away our enemies; we must seek to understand their perspectives and their concerns.

“To those who are given much, much is required”: I was blessed with an unbelievable opportunity this summer. I believe I have been privileged with the unique opportunity to see and witness what most of the world hasn’t. I marvel at the diversity of perspectives and individuals I was blessed with opportunities to interact with and believe I have gained a valuable well-rounded experience. Because of that, I believe I am now morally required to discuss and to learn more. I am obligated to continue to seek to understand all of the layers and perspectives of this conflict. Honestly, that obligation makes me excited. This is my passion: to understand.

In conclusion: I only hope my true heart for this issue has come through. I’ve been living the story of the Palestinians this summer and have tried to communicate the reality of their suffering. At the same time, I’ve been learning about the ‘other story’ as well and I hope I have been able to adequately communicate their concerns, fears and motivations. As much as I wish the situation were black and white, it is a mosaic of gray. 

Solidarity

As my bags are packed and I make my final rounds of goodbye, I have continued to process the thoughts that plague my mind: “What am I going to do when I go home?” “What is my role here?” “What is the most effective way to help?” “How can I help in a way that is sustainable and causes a difference?”

It is very tempting to become overwhelmed with the magnitude of the plight of the Palestinian people. They are the victims of a system that is unjust and desires their elimination. No, I do not believe every Israeli citizen has that desire; rather, I believe most do not or at least are victims of ignorance. I’ve mentioned it before on my blog: on the other side of the wall it is easy not to be concerned with the plight of the Palestinians. That being said, I do believe that there is an ingrained systemic injustice that is perpetuated by government decisions, policies, and in some situations lack of action. For example, when the settlers throw rocks at Palestinian children in Tuba and Magayer Al Abeed as they walk to school, forcing them to daily be escorted by IDF soldiers who often do not show up on time or will only follow them in their jeeps, honking their horns so the children will run, where is the action? Anyone who abuses a child should be arrested. Especially grown adults who throw stones at the heads of 5 year old children. That’s not even discussing the fact that the settlers’ presence in those villages is a violation of Israeli Law which declares that no Israeli is allowed to be in Palestinian Territory.

Wow, I didn’t plan to go on that tangent. Instead, I wanted to talk about the quote I just posted below and the importance of solidarity. I went to a wedding in Haifa this summer where the groom’s father did an object lesson. He had the groom pull on one piece of paper: it broke. Then, he had the groom and bride pull on 2 pieces of paper, twisted together in symbol of their life together: it broke. Then, the groom’s father took a third piece and twisted the three together: the bride and groom braced themselves and pulled and pulled and pulled, yet they were not able to break it. It was a lesson on the importance of having a God-centered relationship. I believe it provides an important lesson for other areas of our lives, too. We must stand together against injustice, against racism, against society’s evils. It won’t always be easy, especially when the mass majority is more content to passively accept the current situation, but it is necessary.

I hope as I go home I can encourage others to stand up for a cause they believe in. A single voice may not seem very strong but it can provide an encouragement and an example to others who may also want to join their cries. The chorus of those cries, together, can make others listen.

It’s beginning

It’s beginning. The deep ache that pulls your throat into your heart, tempting tears and tainting all interactions of joy with its desecrating somberness is beginning to encroach on my living space. With only a few days left, I have begun to say goodbye.

It’s hard to watch the sweeping hillsides fly past my window on the bus and realize that a few days from now I will no longer be able to let my thoughts escape to their terraced groves. It’s hard to watch grown-men blink back tears when you explain that stopping by for coffee and politics next week is mish mumpkin (not possible) because I’ll be in America. It’s hard to let the nights slip by knowing that, for a while, this is the last time for laughing and lingering underneath the stars of Shepherd’s Field.

I had an amazing day yesterday meeting up with two friends I’ve known for the past 5 years. The entire day was one of those days where you knew there was no place in the world you’d rather be. I caught myself in beaming smiles even during the car rides! It was wonderful to be with friends who despite time and distance have remained close. I was incredibly blessed too, because one of them was supposed to have returned back for IDF service, but an extenuating circumstance meant they had stayed home an extra day!

There is nothing like the love and joy of friendship. I feel like this consuming joy and fellowship is what we are called to daily strive to have with everyone around us. It’s hard to leave my friends here— new and old— especially because they have taught me so much about myself. I am fortunate though, because I am returning home to wise friends with beautiful souls and incredible spirits. Despite the horrible things of this world that I have been confronting and battling all summer, despite the hardships and the pain countless individuals suffer on a daily basis, despite the desperation that comes when I consider the mountain of challenges that lay before us as a people and as a generation, it’s comforting to know that a love that can conquer all does exist.

PS. After spending 42 hours locked in a detention room at the airport, Hanna finally boarded a plane this morning and is headed back home. Praise God!

Jordan, debriefed

Jordan was absolutely phenomenal. I’m really glad I decided to go: the horror stories about the long waits at Allenby (King Hussein) Bridge were more than true, but waiting 8 hours to get across the border paled in comparison to the fun of Amman!

It was fantastic to be in a real city again. Driving on a highway to get through town? Weird.

The dynamics of Amman’s population are very interesting. Identity in Jordan is a spiderweb. When we first arrived, our service driver identified himself as a “Jordanian Jordanian” and I quickly found out why. The demographic of Jordan is a hodge-podged mix of Jordanians, Palestinians, Gulfies (those from the Gulf states— Emirates, Saudi, Bahrain), Egyptians and Filipinos and with that comes a headache. Every time we met someone we asked them “where are you from?”. Normally, it would be an odd question for a tourist to ask a local, but in Jordan it was important. We heard stories from refugee Palestinians who used to live on the Mount of Olives, we met Saudis who were spending their summer holiday beating the heat in Amman, we drank juice with a juice vendor from Misr (Egypt) whose family has owned the same juice shack for 80 years. Actually, one of my favorite moments from the trip was discovering the vendor was from Egypt. Immediately, I broke out into the Egyptian national anthem I learned when I was at a Peace Camp in Cairo: “beladi, beladi, belaaaaadi…laki hooobi wa fouadi…” His face lit up, he poured me some more freshly squeezed juice, and together we bellowed the verses. :) I was just glad I could remember it!

Jordan, like the rest of the world, is no exception to social injustice and inequality. It has been described to me that Jordanians only “tolerate” Palestinians and a very strong prejudice exists against the displaced Palestinians who have sought refuge in Jordan. Still, the Palestinian-Jordanians seemed to be getting along okay. The Egyptians, on the other hand, tend to have more of the menial jobs in Jordan. They sweep the streets and comprise most of the lower-class housing. Still worse are the Filipinos. A lot of people in Jordan have hired help— Filipinos— who are responsible for watching the babies/children, cleaning the house and managing affairs 24/7. One night as we were eating ice cream we saw a poor Filipino lady who looked like she hadn’t slept in ages. She was running after the rowdy children while the parents sipped on coffee. My friend who has studied in Jordan told me about visiting her friends’ homes where their Filipino help (she used the word ‘slaves’) are housed in a closet. It’s common she says. The lady who we stayed with told me of her interactions with the Filipino workers in Aqaba. She was at the spa at the Movenpick Resort and asked them how much they get paid. The only pay they received was the tips they received. People were spending more on manicures and pedicures than these workers were paid in a month! We were told many times by Jordanians that they liked everyone but the Filipinos. I had no idea.

This weekend just added another layer to the convictions and the lessons I am learning this summer. If I have one fear, it is that I will be inadequate, that I’ll forget, and I will become part of the ignorance that tears my heart in half. I pray my life can be a true testament to the justice and the love we are called to provide to our neighbors. It is tempting to dispair at the difficulties of walking rightly, fighting for the oppressed and seeking justice for the ignored; thankfully, here, my faith comes in. Remembering the true Gospel, reflecting on the actions and teachings of Christ, and realizing that if I choose to press into my faith and trust in God my life will inevitably reflect these values, I find hope.

On a side note: A girl from our group, a blond 19 year old girl, went to Cairo this past weekend to visit her professor. When she flew back into Israel they asked her if she knew anyone in the West Bank. She said yes, but only their first names. Israel then told her to give them all of those people’s contact information. When she refused, Israel denied her entry. They were going to send her back to Egypt, where she knew no one, but fortunately the US Embassy intervened. The Embassy told them that if they were going to deny her entry back into Israel than they must fly her back to the States. So that is where she is now, in the States. She could not return to the program and must have her belongings shipped back to her. Why? Because she wouldn’t give them information on Palestinians? Isn’t that an illegal way to get information anyway? There is nothing illegal about being friends with people in, or traveling to, the Occupied Territories either. In my opinion, this treatment is unacceptable.

Taxi Service to the Lost Ark

I played Indiana Jones yesterday, climbing and exploring Petra’s large rock facades. The colors of the stones and the movement of the rock as it twists and soars to the sky were unbelievable. I made friends with two little boys trying to sell “taxi” rides on donkeys through the park: “free air conditioning!” was their favorite selling point. As they led me to the best views in the park, pointing out Bedouin camps along the way, they were intrigued with my Arabic and determined I wasn’t a real tourist.

The shared cab ride back to Amman was a typical Arab taxi ride. We stopped about 4 times in what should have been a 2.5 hour ride. First, we went as a cab to fill up the tires with air. Second, we stopped so the driver could run across the street and grab a cup of coffee. Then we stopped so that our driver could go and buy a pastry or two, lean against a pole and sip his mango juice. Finally, made a stop for gas. Every time the driver gets out you become more and more tempted to get out too. Heck, we would have loved a pastry! Yet you never know if the joy of food outweighs the danger that the driver will jump back in and take off before you’re back in the car. For safety’s sake, we just sit and twiddle our thumbs until our renegade driver comes back. It was a typical cab drive for the Middle East.

At one point, the road was blocked off and we were forced to take a detour. Our driver took the detour for about 1 minute, to get around the rope I persume, before off-roading back onto the highway. When we passed the police they raised their hands in exclamation and blared their horn but we kept on cruising. They didn’t follow us and we managed to make it through the construction zone without incident. Thankgoodness. When we hit the sterets of Amman, the true Arab driver came out. All speed limits were tossed to the wind as our driver screeched through corners and flew across speedbumps throwing us into the air and dropping our stomachs like a rollercoaster. Ah, now the driving felt familiar to Bethlehem!

This cab only had a dice hanging from his rear-view mirror. In Bethlehem District, your declared identity via your mirror decorations is very important. You can always tell if your driver is a Christian or a Muslim by the paraphernalia they twist and wind around their mirrors. Some of their taxi lights say “Jesus!” on the back: everyone wants you to know where they stand on the religious spectrum. They may not even be that religious, but it is ‘important’ you know their affiliation. Everyone, no matter what they believe, has the hand of Fatima or a Fatima lanyard in the mix. The hand of Fatima is supposed to ward off the evil-eye. Here, even a lot of the Jewish population in Israel will wear it or have her emblem somewhere despite the fact she isn’t technically kosher. It’s almost ironic, the blatant declaration of religious affiliation, because religion isn’t a topic of conversation that is socially acceptable in Bethlehem. Friends are friends— they may know one is a Muslim and the other is a Christian— and they will talk about everything under the sun except religion. It’s taboo. Among the younger crowd, the late teens and twenties, the tension between Muslims and Christians seems more evident and fights will often break out. It’s a huge problem for the future of Palestine. If they ever become a viable state all of the religious tension that was once swept under the rug will surface and explode.