By  Jim and Judy Kutz

Stained glass window in the Al Aqsa mosque

Early this morning we went up to Jerusalem from Bethlehem.  There we saw many great wonders that we have heard about since childhood.  We saw the strong and ancient stones of walls, buildings, temples, churches, and holy places raised up through rich cultural designs and religious aspirations; layers of them laid down by one civilization after another, usually by violent conquest, and all of them occupiers of the land that native peoples called their home.  These natives go back to Jesus’ time, always hiding in the shadows, always dancing to the occupiers’ music, but always practicing their own heritage.  What a complex confusion it has turned out to be!  We couldn’t get away from droves of wandering, milling, meandering foreigners from the ends of the earth, all filling their eyes and flash cards insatiably.

Pools of Bethesda, Jerusalem

Would that all people come to Jerusalem the same way Jesus did when he was twelve years old for the Passover feast (Luke 2); full of masterful spiritual discernment and human wisdom, obviously and intentionally being about God’s business.  What if tourists and pilgrims were so?  Or the pray-ers in Al Aqsa mosque or in the Holy Sepulchre Church or at the Western Wall, all places we now visit to see if we might unravel the violence/God’s business puzzle of the present?  The question can stretch out starting in Jerusalem to the Knesset, the ISF(Israeli Security Force), the settlers, the West Bank and Gaza and to the end of the earth.  What if the high ideals and rhetoric of many nations actually ended up on the ground as justice?

What if we all cried over Jerusalem as Jesus did and ask longingly and lovingly, “Would that even today you knew the things that make for peace!” (Luke 19).

Of course we know the old, old story and the fact that Jesus’ life boiled down to the final word offered by Roman-occupied Jerusalem.  Even all that lonely, sweaty praying in Gethsemane didn’t stop the pain and death, nor the controversy over what that one death actually means for humanity.  But then many voices through human history, sometimes faintly faithful, sometimes fatally courageous, bear witness to God’s final word stamped on the world in the extreme paradox of cross/resurrection.

The paradox is still in play.  There is a blight under the dividing walls here, like ugly plastic bags blowing everywhere and no place at the caprice of a haughty wind.  But if anything, we’ve been reminded over and over again on this trip of the beautiful, brave hope of those who anchor their lives on resurrection, on unseen, but expected joyful future.

Church of the Holy Sepulchre and its unmoved ladder

Maybe that future was glimpsed through the painfully beautiful colored windows of the Al Aqsa mosque, reminding us that in spite of mindless, hard building material, the light will not be stopped.  There it was again at the deep Bethesda pools where a man waited 38 long years for someone to help him into the water when the angel disturbed it (John 5).  Jesus came and healed him within 38 seconds, at least that’s how one can imagine it.  Could there be such a surprising healing like that now?  God knows.   And again it was there in the amazing acoustics of St. Anne’s church that made us into a choir of professional angelic singers.  And so again, maybe even more powerfully, in the reflection time in our single hearts while sitting in a church pew, the still small voice adding to ours and others like us into people of faith/practice.

Now it’s down again from Jerusalem in the cool of the evening to Bethlehem, our last night in the Holy Land Hotel where we broke bread many times over the past week, and maybe remembering Jesus from time to time in the process and what Paul meant by, “…until he comes again” (1Cor. 11).

By Susan Moskwa

1. An average day can be pretty average.

Look, Stars & Bucks cafe—just like in the US!

When I told my husband I wanted to go to Palestine, he was taken aback; we had to consult the US State Department website (to see if there were any travel warnings) before discussing it further. In the US we hear about Palestine as a place that launches rockets at Israel; as a place where civilians are killed by Israeli soldiers; as a place where such deaths are acceptable collateral damage considering how dangerous it is and how dangerous the “terrorists” are that the Israeli government is fighting. Our images of Palestine are of civilians throwing rocks at tanks, of bombed-out buildings, of parents crying over their children’s bodies. No wonder my husband feared for my safety; many of my co-travelers got similar reactions from their friends and family.

But our trip so far has felt pretty normal. We drive around and walk in the streets and have coffee and talk with people. We’ve seen students hanging out on campus and kids playing in sports tournaments. I don’t feel in danger of pickpocketing, the way I do in some major European cities. Sometimes the street vendors can be pushy, telling you that selling trinkets to tourists is their only means of supporting their family (which could certainly be true; the West Bank, where we’ve stayed so far, has >25% unemployment). But mostly it just feels like visiting another country. I don’t feel in danger in the least.

2. An average day can be pretty terrible.

Names of Palestinian children killed by Israelis in July 2014

Palestinians live with daily realities that are unimaginable for most Americans. Those who live in the West Bank can’t leave it without a permit; the process of getting a permit can be long, difficult, and you often get denied with no reason given. Imagine not being able to visit your family regularly, or meet with business colleagues who live outside your neighborhood, or go on vacation whenever you want to. There’s also a lot of bureaucracy; there are over 100 different types of permits, and you have to apply for the right one. In his book Bethlehem Besieged, Mitri Raheb recounts how his father-in-law had a heart attack and was in an ambulance on its way to a hospital in Jerusalem (just outside the West Bank). As a businessman, he had a permit for traveling outside the West Bank; but an Israeli soldier at the checkpoint turned him away (in an ambulance) because at that particular moment he was traveling as a patient, not a businessman, and he was told to go back and apply for a medical permit. He died several days later as a result of not receiving medical treatment in time.

In many areas Palestinians are not allowed to have electricity or running water in their homes. They’re not allowed to build anything on their own land. In the Aida refugee camp, Israeli soldiers raid the camp regularly (often early in the morning or at night), spraying tear gas and skunk water and searching people’s homes. Imagine not being able to get a full night’s sleep without gunfire outside your door or soldiers in your house… not just one night, but nearly every night. These are just a few of the stories we’ve heard. There are hundreds more, all told with a touch of resignation and banality, as though they are the norm rather than the exception.

3. There are camels here.

Did you know that!? Somehow I only pictured camels in, like, the middle of a giant desert in Egypt or Saudi Arabia. Yesterday we drove past a butcher shop with an entire camel carcass hanging outside on a hook. Sadly I couldn’t whip out my camera in time, but Rick Steves has a photo if you want to see one.

4. The Wall is a Big Deal.

Israeli separation wall near Aida refugee camp

Israel is building a giant Berlin wall around the West Bank. It’s >60% completed; the final cost will be close to $3.8 billion US dollars. (Imagine what a difference it would make if they instead used that money to provide water, medical care, or services to the occupied Palestinian territories.) Americans, this is your tax dollars at work: the US gives Israel $3 billion in aid every year. Without our financial support, the calculations for whether and how much they could afford to invest in such a project would look quite different.

>90% of the Wall is built on Palestinian/West Bank land, leading many Palestinians to believe that it’s another mechanism for appropriating Palestinian land rather than just a security measure. It’s especially likely to scoop out valuable agricultural land, natural aquifers, or culturally valuable sites like Rachel’s Tomb. Many people we’ve met here talk about “facts on the ground”: it doesn’t matter how many international accords Israel has signed, or whether the US or the UN has denounced this-or-that activity, if there’s a 20 foot wall between you and where you want to go. The Wall cuts families and villages in half and its construction continues while we (the international community) try to broker peace talk after peace talk.

Israeli separation wall near Aida refugee camp

Today we heard about four brothers who built a house together for all their families to share. By completion they’d put more than $2 million dollars into it. But Israel built the Wall around it, and the family had to decide whether to give up their house or give up their ability to leave the West Bank at will (they lived in a part of Jerusalem where they were allowed to travel without worrying about permits, but their house had been walled into the travel-restricted West Bank). In the end they gave up the house, because freedom is more valuable.

5. Palestinians are more than just victims.

We refuse to be enemies. Daoud Nassar, The Tent of Nations

As I said, before this week the word “Palestine” brought to mind damaged buildings, wailing mothers, children throwing stones—images of a disempowered people, waiting for a peace process to restore some of their dignity. But we’ve met Palestinians here who have chosen not to let the Israeli occupation define them, even while it continues to impact them. They, too, are creating “facts on the ground”: making life better for themselves and their neighbors in whatever ways are available to them. Groups like Alrowwad, the Diyar Consortium, and Tent of Nations use art, theater, music and dance to give children a creative outlet and teach positive self-expression rather than reactionaryism. Bethlehem Bible College and Dar al-Kalima have created university-level degree programs to help Palestinians get higher education without having to leave the West Bank (even if they’re accepted into a university, not everyone can get a permit to leave the West Bank to attend said university; those that do don’t always come back once they’ve had a taste of life without occupation). Instead of giving up, some people solve problems in creative ways: Israel doesn’t allow the Nassar family (at Tent of Nations) to have electricity or running water on their property, so they use solar power and waterless composting toilets.

“We don’t have the luxury of despair, but the steadfast hope that we can make a change for our children and the generations to come that we can be proud of.”
Abdelfattah Abusrour, Director of Alrowwad

“We refuse to be victims; we refuse to be enemies.”
Daoud Nassar, Tent of Nations

Worship in Christmas Lutheran Church, 19 Oct 2014

Karen Parkinson

Karen here. The morning started in a city landscape – Bethlehem – where we attended a beautiful service in Arabic at the Evangelical Lutheran Christmas Church where Rev. Dr. Mitri Raheb preached. We had previously met him on Friday at the Diyar Consortium. We were in an international landscape, with about half the congregation being visitors from various countries. The church itself was built by German missionaries in 1854 and had some beautiful stained glass windows with Scripture references in German along with very artistic Arabic calligraphy decorating the ceiling. A German group provided special music but we all enjoyed the rousing offertory hymn sung in Arabic by all our brothers and sisters in Christ. A very unifying experience… We were able to chat with the congregation afterwards, and hopefully were an encouragement to them.

From the church, located in a busy market street, we started the descent along the “Valley on Fire” road towards Jericho, to the east. The settlers use a different more direct route through Jerusalem, but our road snaked through Palestinian villages and past hilltop settlements. The landscape was constantly changing from the white limestone of Bethlehem towards the barren brown of the Judean Wilderness. I could imagine David hiding from Saul in the many caves visible from what was the old Roman road. The occasional Bedouin encampment became more frequent as we neared Jericho.

4th century St. George’s Monastery, Wadi Qelt

Our lunch stop was in the canyon of Wadi Qelt. Flash floods had formed deep grooves in the mountains over thousands of years to create a very dramatic landscape. We overlooked St. George’s Monastery, which dates back to the 4th century and was built into the side of a cliff. The monks certainly enjoyed solitude until we and a team of photographers equipped with a drone arrived! Joan read the parable of the Good Samaritan – easy to relate to seeing the rough terrain and narrow shepherd paths. There is precious little foliage to be found for the goats we saw being led by a shepherd on a donkey.

Later in the afternoon, we drove south through the Jordan Valley from Jericho to Qumran. Again, the landscape changed as we descended below sea level. Date palm and banana trees lined both sides of the road and the terrain was lighter in color than the wilderness with bushes providing occasional shade. It was flat all the way across to the mountains of Jordan.

Qumran cave of the Essenes

Apparently, due to water from the the Jordan River being diverted further upstream, the river is dry at this point, leaving the Dead Sea as a lake with decreasing volume and increasing salt concentrations each year.

Qumran is where the Yahad (Essene) community lived, with the goal of ritual purity and spiritual perfection. John the Baptist was a member. We wandered around the ruins and saw ten ritual baths along with cisterns, dining hall and treasury. In 1947, about a dozen scrolls of parchment sheets of all the books of the Bible except Esther, sectarian texts and other Jewish literature were found in caves nearby by Bedouin shepherds. Later in 1952, more fragments were found. It is thought that the Essenes hid them from the Romans in the 2nd Temple period.

In the distance, the Dead Sea beckoned with its salt farms at 400 m. below sea level. We chose a private beach area (Kalia) to swim in, and some of us covered ourselves with the gooey healing black mud. Showers were fortunately available with unlimited hot water, unlike in Palestine where water is restricted by the Israeli government.

Group shot, Osama center

On the drive home, Usama (our wonderful guide) shared stories of life in occupied Palestine – all rather shocking and reinforcing the idea that the Israeli military act in unnecessarily cruel ways to harass and bring fear and stress to the Palestinian people. Life here is obviously hard as freedoms are taken away and all control is taken by the Israeli authorities. Random “flying checkpoints” can appear on any road in the West Bank at any time, and the people are forced to wait in lines as the young soldiers harass and humiliate them, even claiming that “they are the masters and there is nothing you [the Palestinians] can do about it.” Usama’s own wedding celebration was interrupted by a curfew in Bethlehem and he had many personal stories about people dying at checkpoints whilst waiting to get medical help. We have a lot of disturbing information to process, for certain…