Christmas Reflections from Bethlehem

Given that it is Christmas Eve and I have been living in the Holy Land, I am coming to feel a little bit bad about the dark and depressing subject matter that my blog has contained. This material has, to the best of my ability, been accurate and faithful to the experiences and perceptions that I have had over the last few months. Yet, during this present season of hope, I long to send something a bit more encouraging and a bit more uplifting.

While this is a harsh land, wrought with conflict and filled with ideologies that identify force and militarization as the way to meet their objectives, it is also a surprisingly abundant and fruitful land. It is a sort of crucible, boiling people down to their core essence, revealing what is at their heart. For some, the ravages of communal pain, personal anger, and injustice rise up in tragic ways. For others, remarkable courage, faith and forgiveness emerge in such abundance and clarity that the humanity behind them becomes luminary. So today, I want to share the story of two brothers who fall in this second category.

Daher and Daoud Nasser grew up on a beautiful farm in the countryside just outside of Bethlehem, which their grandfather had purchased in 1916. They enjoyed warm times there as a family, learning how to care for land and plants and animals, and enjoying evenings under starry skies hearing their grandfather tell stories beside a campfire. As adults, the responsibility of the farm was passed to them, to continue caring for this land responsibly and to make a good and honorable life upon it.

In 1991, these brothers received word that three quarters of their land (the most desirable parts on the hilltop) was slated to be confiscated by the state of Israel in order to allow for the expansion of an illegal settlement in the area. In general, relatively few Palestinians have paperwork or titles to their land since their families have farmed these lands continuously for generations and such documents were perceived as unnecessary until very recently. Daher and Daoud are exceptions though as their grandfather was a meticulous man and kept careful records, verifying that their family purchased the land and owned it under the Ottoman Empire, the British Mandate years, the Jordanian rule, and through the present.

In most countries, people who are presently farming the land and in possession of such documents would have no issue continuing forward with life as usual. But, in the occupied Palestinian territories, things aren’t quite so easy. The Nasser brothers were told that they must produce these documents along with aerial photographs of the land and have neighbors appear in court vouching that the family has indeed been there as they say they have. At considerably personal expense, Daher and Daoud accomplished all these tasks, having to rent a bus to transport their neighbors to the court to testify on their appointed court date. When they arrived, the court told them they couldn’t see their case and to return again the following week.

The brothers did return, with their neighbors in tow yet again. But, because of pressures from the settlement, the court was not so interested in recognizing them as the landowners. The brothers have remained in a legal battle over the land for the last 19 years. “As Palestinians, we are guilty until proven innocent,” said Daoud, who has been disallowed from constructing any buildings on his family’s land and forbidden from connecting to existing water and electrical networks in the area. In addition to these legal struggles, Settlers have come in the night with dogs and guns, cut their fences, and destroyed many of their olive and apricot trees.

Meanwhile, from their hilltop farm, the Nasser brothers watch as the military supports the settlements as they build all sorts of projects across the valley on land that they possess no title to. Within the last two months, electrical lines were strung up to a new settlement outpost, which has popped up in the midst of field traditionally used by a Palestinian village for agriculture.

From time to time, bulldozers appear and try to construct a road through the midst of Daher and Daoud’s land to connect two of the settlements. This is particularly frustrating given the fact that the main access road to the farm has been barricaded with rubble by the military.

Such frustrations, such powerlessness, such denial of rights to personal property would be enough to make most people become embittered and perhaps even violent. But Daoud and Daher are not most people. Reaching deep into their Christian faith, these brothers identified a different path; a path based on forgiveness, the valuing of all people, and the belief that out of nothing, God can bring new and abundant life.

To begin walking this path, these brothers and their families initiated a camp for young people. There, they bring together Israelis, Palestinians, and Internationals; Muslims, Jews, and Christians to “come to see each other as human beings.” They participate in art projects, recreation, classes about stewardship of land, dialogue, and yes, sitting around a campfire late at night sharing stories. At the entrance to their farm and this camp, a large rock is proudly engraved, “We Refuse to be Enemies.”

In spite of their building restrictions, the Nasser brothers seek to model for these youth that “out of nothing, you can create something.” Since they can’t build above the ground, they have taken ancient caves and outfitted them as classrooms, meeting spaces, and even a small theater. Since they can’t connect to electric grids, they have focused on green energy and, with help from some international groups, have installed solar panels for basic electricity. For sleeping, they have erected two very large tents, which I’m proud to say were donated by a group of Presbyterians. These tents tie into the name of their organization, “The Tent of Nations,” and they use them provide shelter, hospitality, and bridges of understanding for people from every nation (www.tentofnations.org). Regrettably, the Israeli army has issued a demolition order on these tents, so they may have to find some other creative alternatives for housing their guests.

Picture: Daher pointing to a mural constructed out of "broken rubbish" scrap tiles by young people during camp. The Arabic writing is Psalm 133, "How good and pleasant it is when God's people live together in unity..."

While politics and policies continue to squeeze and restrict this farm, it persists in witnessing to higher standards and deeper connections between people. Daoud shared several experiences with me of Settlers who have in various ways tried to push them from this land. One set came with guns to try to intimidate him into selling his property. He asked them to leave their guns outside and instead come and sit down for tea. It led to conversation and a degree of respect that has reduced many tensions and deterred the Settler community from destroying any more of the farm’s fruit trees.

Another Settler who came initially to the farm in a confrontational fashion was so struck by the family’s unwillingness to engage him as an enemy and their surprising welcome that he returned with a group to help build four composting toilets for the farm so that they could better host groups and continue building bridges.

These stories, and many others of healing and hope, have emerged out of the perseverance of this family that refuses to be enemies. For me, during this season of incarnation, this family’s life witnesses to the reality of a God who also refuses to be enemies. They witness to a God who bridges divides, who endures hostility, who refuses to come as a warrior or politician but instead takes on the form of a baby to grow with us and walk along side of us. They witness to a God who, out of dead ends and crucifixions, creates new ways forward and new possibilities for life and life abundant. They witness to a God who provides redemption rather condemnation.

Here in Bethlehem, just as all over the globe, God’s Spirit is at work providing new and startling ways forward through the difficulties of our harsh world. This Christmas, just as every day, may that same Spirit be born again in us and lead us forward in hope, down new and life giving paths.

Morning Commute

No, this isn't a maximum security prison.

No, I'm not under arrest again, or even visiting people in jail.

I'm actually joining some 3,000 Palestinians on their morning commute. They are lined up outside of checkpoint 300 between Bethlehem and East Jerusalem (both of which are technically part of the Occupied Palestinian Territories according to the UN, yet they are separated by this massive security barrier).

I arrived with a number of my colleagues who are stationed in Bethlehem and monitor this checkpoint daily. They are here each morning at approximately 4:00 am when the checkpoint is supposed to open.

When we arrived about 3:55, there were already around 500 people lined up, some who arrived as early as 2:30 so that they would be able to get through in time so as to not be late for work.

As Ecumenical Accompaniers, we keep careful records of when the gates actually open, how many people pass through every 30 minutes, how many are sent back and lose their permits, and how long it takes for the checkpoint to let everyone in the line through. All of these statistics vary widely from day to day, depending upon the mood of the soldiers in charge.

On this particular morning, just over 150 people were able to pass through the checkpoint before 5:00 am, to then catch their buses or walk the remainder of their journey to their various places of employment. By 6:00 am, there were still well over 700 people in line with more on their way, waiting to walk through these barred corridors, pass through turnstiles and metal detectors, show their identity cards to soldiers with machine guns , and present valid permits proving they have cause to travel into Jerusalem and Israel.

For me, the checkpoint is a very demoralizing place. Hundreds of grown men, packed in to what feel like cages from the inside, anxious as to whether or not they will make it to their jobs on time. Each morning is different and subject to what my teammates refer to as the "planned unpredictability" of life under occupation. Some mornings (very few), things run according to what is possible. All the metal detectors are open and more than two of the ID booths are staffed. Most of the Palestinian workmen are through and catching their buses by 6:30. More frequently though, there is a wide variation as to when folks are able to reach the other side. Sometimes it is as late as 9:30 before the line has finally dissipated.

It was hard and exceedingly frustrating to witness this checkpoint once. I couldn't help but reflect that for these three thousand workers, this is part of their daily commute. Every single morning that they are able to get a permit to go through to their jobs, they must endure this hours-long trial. It is also hard to fathom that these Palestinians in some ways are the lucky ones. Many of their friends and relatives have no work at all, or have been denied permits to Jerusalem for literally years.

Suddenly, traffic on I-40 doesn't seem quite so bad.

Recidivism

I’m glad to say that over the past week I have managed to avoid a second trip to the police station. However, due to my arrest, I have also not been able to visit the Saffa valley where landowners are still disallowed from being on their farms. The Israeli army is pretty serious about these farms being within “a closed military zone,” and not letting anyone on to the land.

Well, that is not entirely true. Some people do seem to be allowed to enter this area. On Tuesday night, Settlers from the Bat Ayn settlement that are trying to annex this piece of land entered one of the farms and set fire to around 70 olive trees. Recognizing that their trees were being burned, several Palestinians rushed to the area to extinguish the flames. Three of these Palestinians were placed under arrest by the Israeli army, again for being in a closed military zone. Yet no Settlers were arrested for trespassing or for arson.

If you’d like to follow the events occurring in this valley, or read more about the history of violence and crop destruction there, you can read up at: http://palestinesolidarityproject.org/category/saffa/.

If you’d like to know more about the Bat Ayn Settlement, their webpage can be found at http://www.bat-ayin.org/73023/About-Us. Quick Wikipedia research on their founding member and guide, Rabbi Yitzchak Ginsburgh is also informative, particularly under the section marked “Controversy.”

Will This Go On My Permanent Record?

Most people who know me well will vouch for the fact that it would be a real stretch to call me a troublemaker. In most circumstances, I do all that I can to avoid conflict and confrontation. Having lived in the South, I’ve also adopted the habit of being polite even when I don’t feel like it. I’ve even been accused of being too much of a rule-follower. And, naturally, I’m deferential to authority figures, sometimes to a fault.

So, it came as a surprise to me to be arrested this past Sunday. Riding in a paddy wagon, having my fingerprints taken, and being questioned by a police investigator were all newexperiences for me. I’m not terribly interested in repeating these events, but at the moment I don't regret the way I spent this past Sunday.

We began in the morning around 9:30 with a group of Palestinian farmers who are trying to clear their land in preparation for planting a grove of fruit trees: apricots, olives, and the like. These farmers have documents proving their ownership of the land, but to their misfortune, the land lies directly below the illegal Israeli settlement of Bat Ayn.

The settlement, which at this point is relatively small and located deep within the Occupied Palestinian Territories, has slated these farmlands to be annexed so that they can continue to grow.Despite the fact that this settlement is illegal by international law, the Israeli army is actively assisting the settlement’s annexation of land. In the West Bank, there is a law applied by Israel that allows for any land that is not utilized for three years to become property of the state. Once land has become state property, it is then easy to re-assign it for use by settlements.

So, for a Palestinian landowner, the natural course of action is to use your land so that it won’t be confiscated. Hence, these farmers went to prepare the ground for planting trees when the short rainy season comes in January and February.

However, these farmers have been having some difficulties. At times, they have been attacked by settlers who have a vested interest in preventing them from using their land for the next three years. Additionally, the Israeli Army has also begun to bar the farmers from their land, a practice that the Israeli Supreme Court has declared unlawful.

Because of the farmers’ fears of attack and brutality from both settlers and the Israeli army, they asked a group of internationals to accompany them and hopefully provide a protective presence as they work their family’s land. So we joined them, and had been with them for about an hour when three Israeli soldiers arrived.

The soldiers stood about 10 yards away, watching the group of farmers working. They didn’t say anything, but just stood, observing. After about five minutes, the farmers decided that they were anxious enough to leave, so we all began walking back down the hill and toward the Arab village where they live.

The soldiers quickly cut off the group and told us we were not permitted to leave. They then informed us that we were being arrested. Fortunately, they did not detain any Palestinians, but only the five internationals present. If you’d like to see this event, there is a video up at: http://palestinesolidarityproject.org/2010/11/14/5-internationals-arrested-1-beaten-in-saffa/.

So, we were escorted back to the military jeeps where we were loaded up and hauled off to the police station. At the station, we did lots of sitting and waiting, with no word as to why we had been arrested. To their credit, we were served a nice lunch of salad, bread, hot dogs and hummus, but I would have preferred to buy my own lunch on my own dime and in my own time.

After nearly four hours, we were questioned individually and finally told why we were being detained. You can imagine my surprise when I was told that I had been arrested for trespassing in a closed military zone, refusing to leave when shown documentation of the land’s status (which by the way doesn’t exist, wasn’t shown to us, and we were in fact trying to leave), and not cooperating with instructions from a soldier!

I was then told by the police investigator in a disdainful tone that if he had come to my country and done such terrible things he would be instantly deported. I was so surprised that I couldn’t even manage to point out how perfectly acceptable it would be for him to walk around a farm with its owner in my home country! He then told me to go back to my country and stop causing trouble here.

My colleague Viking and I inside the police station, being carefully guarded so that we don't cause any more trouble.

Another one of the girls who was detained with us is a Jewish girl from California. She was severely offended when the police investigator told her, “in a month you will be a Muslim.” She articulated beautifully that what caused her offense was not being associated with the Islamic faith which she respects, but due to the policeman’s insinuation that her status as a Jewish person was in jeopardy if she opposed what she viewed as unjust policies of the Israeli army and its support of illegal settlement activity.

After a few more hours, we were finally released since they of course didn’t have a single legitimate charge against us and it was nearing supper time. None the less, in order to leave we were required to sign papers indicating that we would not return to the area for 14 days.

So, while nothing akin to justice occurred at the police station that day, and decisions of the Supreme Court continue to go ignored in principal and practice, the military and the settlement’s objectives were met. We will not be able to accompany the farmers. They are too intimidated to go to their own land alone. The ground will not be ready for saplings when the only short rainy season of the year arrives. The powerful will slowly but steadily take more land, and the powerless will be told by men with guns to be quiet and to not cause any trouble.

Facts on the Ground

Just about a year ago, the little farming community of Al Bwera, located on the outskirts of Hebron, got some new neighbors. For around 20 years they’ve been living by the large Givat Harsina Settlement that, while illegal by international law, has been allowed and supported by the state of Israel. This settlement is insulated by a “buffer zone” comprised of an approximately 400-yard strip of former farmland that now resides behind a tall barbed wire fence.

At some point last year, a new dirt road was constructed out of the back of the suburban Givat Harsina Settlement, through Palestinian farmland, and up to the top of a nearby hill. Subsequently, a trailer appeared and what was known as a Settlement Outpost was established. These Outposts tend to spring up on the outskirts of Settlements and in a strategic fashion for circling farmlands and connecting the already existing larger Settlements.

The Settlement Outposts are completely illegal by everyone’s perspective, including the Israeli government. Well, sort of.

This particular Outpost was reported to the authorities, who did in fact come, declare it illegal, and place a demolition order on the Outpost. Later, the Israeli Army arrived with battle forces and bulldozers and ended up having a standoff with this group of Israeli Settlers. The standoff did end up with the demolition of the trailer, but not before a military jeep was overturned and burned. No arrests of the Israeli Settlers took place, even though they staged an armed resistance to the military and destroyed military property.

Within the week, the Settlers had returned with a new trailer and reestablished themselves on the site, with the charred remains of the jeep standing at the entrance of their compound like some macabre trophy. The army and the Israeli government did not bother to return to actually remove this group or return the property to the Palestinian landowners.

So, one of our roles now is to stand alongside a Palestinian road which parallels the new dirt Settler road for several hundred yards. The Palestinian road is used by school children that must use it to return to their many homes in the farming community. Most of these children are between eight and twelve years old and are terrified to walk along this stretch of road because they are frequently verbally and occasionally physically harassed by the Settlers (shortly after the Settlement Outpost was destroyed by the military, the Settlers retaliated by beating with bats two international observers who were watching the road, sending them both to the hospital).

Last week while monitoring this area and providing a protective presence for the school children, we observed another interesting phenomenon. A large military bulldozer (identified by my friend Simon as a Caterpillar 950 Articulated Front End Loader) was moving gigantic scoops of rocks and building up a five-foot tall barrier between the Settler road and the Palestinian road. We asked the soldiers on the side of the road what the bulldozer was doing, to which they replied that it was erecting a security barrier. When we asked them for what purpose, they said, "to protect the Settlers."

What is particularly revealing about this situation is that military personnel using military equipment were actively engaged in fortifying an illegal Settlement Outpost. While it may appear contradictory for the military to be assisting in establishing something that is technically illegal, this is actually part of a larger Israeli policy that the state itself refers to as “Facts on the Ground.”

In practical terms, the state of Israel has shown no indication that it wants to relinquish any control over the West Bank. On the contrary, it seems to want to annex large sections of this land to become a permanent part of Israel. The most famous expression of this intention came from then cabinet member Ariel Sharon who, addressing the Israeli public said, “everybody has to move, run and grab as many hilltops as they can to enlarge the settlements, because everything we take now will stay ours… everything we don’t grab will go to them.”

They primary way land is claimed here in the Occupied Palestinian Territories is by these Settlement Outposts which then become recognized by Israel and gradually fortified with security barriers, permanent roads, and utilities. Quickly they become verifiable “Facts on the Ground;” homes and infrastructure built by Israelis for Israelis. The argument during Peace talks then goes, “why shouldn’t these Israeli developments be part of Israel?”

In light of these ever-growing “Facts on the Ground,” the internationally recognized Green Line boundary between Israel and Palestine becomes more and more theoretical. What is tragic is that there are some other facts on the ground, some facts not accounted for or frequently noted. They are the facts of individuals and families displaced from their homes, they are the facts of the children we walk with daily who are growing up with fear and resentment in their hearts, there are the facts of whole populations entering into the roles of victim and victimizer, and both being dehumanized in the process.

There is much sadness here, but I’m glad that there is still yet another set of facts on the ground. There is the fact that a sizeable minority of Israeli citizens resists the cultural and institutional norms of their society and instead works for just policies in their government. There is the fact that the vast majority of Palestinians rejects violence and instead engages in the hard work of peaceful protest. It is these last few facts that encourage me and give me the hope and strength and courage to face the pervasive conflict and sadness in this land.

From Cavemen to Nomads

Recently our team visited a rural area in the South Hebron Hills called Susiya. Up until the 1980s, Susiya was a small village whose residents owned large tracks of the surrounding land. In 1982, an Israeli settlement took over the village and expelled the residents, including the family of the man we were visiting, Nasser.

While Nasser's family no longer has access to their former home, the Israeli Supreme Court has upheld their right to dwell on their farm land (the family has documents dating back to the Ottoman Empire which recognizing their ownership over this property). While it is unjust that Nasser has been pushed from his own home, one would also think that he could resume some sort of normal life on the remainder of his land. The catch is, Nasser is not allowed to build a single thing on his own property. The Israeli government has declared this land a "Security Buffer Zone" to protect the illegal Settlement at Susiya. So, no Palestinian is allowed to build anything at all in this area.

For a few years, Nasser was able to shelter his family in an ancient cave which existed on his property. They dug the cave out a bit more, and fashioned a door for it, and persisted on eking out their living herding goats, harvesting their olives, and planting small vegetable gardens. However, Nasser's presence on his land proved to be an irritation to the nearby Israeli Settlers who reside in his old home. So, the Israeli army issued a demolition order on Nasser's cave home. They came with bulldozers and back-hoes, demolishing Nasser's improvised dwelling. The remnants can be seen above.

Homeless, Nasser and his family received tents from the International Red Cross so that they would have some form of shelter in which to live. The Israeli army has again issued demolition orders, this time upon the tents! Thankfully, no one has bothered to follow through on this set of orders. Yet, Nasser and his family live in constant insecurity, unable to make any improvements to their land or their shelter.

Throughout the hillsides of the West Bank, countless heartbreaks like this one continue daily. Another nearby family has a demolition order on the latrine that an international aid agency helped them construct; again on their own property and near the tents that they are forced to live in. I have heard of other rural Palestinians who have had their wells demolished. All of this happens for "security reasons." I assure you, the Palestinian families do not feel more secure, and one starts to wonder why the alleged security needs of illegal Israeli settlers supersedes the local farmers' rights to security, to property, and to basic human dignity in these occupied territories.

Settler Overview

This is an excerpt from my most recent email update, but I thought I would also list it here to offer a framework on Settlers and Settlements. A lot of my upcoming posts will include stories about Settlers, so I thought I would include this:

Currently, about 500 Israeli Settlers live in the very heart of the Old Town of Hebron. Before coming, I was not very clear as to what exactly a Settler was, nor why Israeli Settlements were such a major issue in peace talks. A good understanding of these is critical, so please forgive a brief diversion here into some history.

Prior to 1967, the boarders of Israel were set behind what is now known as “the Green Line.” During the 6 Days War, Israel defeated Jordan and occupied the land now known as the West Bank (the land along the western bank of the Jordan river). Since then, Israel has kept this land under its military control as an occupied territory.

This land represents a smaller portion of what had been designated by the United Nations to be an Arab state when the British gave up control of the whole region back in 1948. The independent Arab state never materialized, but the local people living in this area still maintain the hope of nationhood on this land.

By international law, this land remains an occupied territory of Israel. This designation prohibits Israel from transferring any of its civilian population into this area (the Geneva conventions prohibit nations from expanding their borders through war, and in the event of an occupation prohibit colonization). In simple terms, there should be no Israeli civilians trying to set up residence anywhere beyond the Green Line, and the illegality of such movements is unquestionable according to international law. This has been affirmed again and again by the United Nations.

However, international policy and politics have not upheld these laws, so the state of Israel has allowed and encouraged its citizens to move in large groups into the Palestinian Territories. These Israeli citizens are living in what are known as Settlements, and they themselves are known as Settlers.

Many Settlers who move into regions beyond the Green Line are given financial support in the form of grants, tax breaks, and reduced utility rates. They are also supported by the military, who provide around-the-clock physical protection. Frequently, these Settlements are built upon the land of Palestinians, or consist of homes confiscated from Palestinians.

In Hebron, the Settlers in the Old Town are ideological Settlers. They believe that all of the land that the ancient Jews inhabited was promised by God to the Jewish people. Therefore, they have a right to the land that supersedes the rights of the Palestinians who have

been living in the area for generations (to hear the voice of the settlers in Hebron, you can read articles from their spokesperson on their webpage at http://www.hebron.com/english/articles.php?cat_id=94)

The Settlement in Hebron claimed the primary commercial street that used to be a lively place of shops and markets. The majority of these shops have been permanently closed, and Palestinians have been forbidden from even walking down major portions of the street. It now resembles a ghost town. To protect the 500 settlers who live in this area, over 1,000 Israeli soldiers are present at checkpoints, lookouts, and street corners.

Directly across the street from the settlement is the Cordoba School, a small Palestinian girls’ school that has miraculously remained open. One of our primary tasks is to walk with the children of this school past the settlement so that they are not harassed by Settlers who have been known to verbally and physically harass the students (to see video of this a

t Cordoba school, go to http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T6zjnsaKXHg). Last spring, Settlers also uprooted a row of young trees planted by students on the school grounds (the row of holes left by these trees can be seen to the right, along with the school itself in the background).

So, much of my learning and many of my experiences this week have been discouraging. There is a great deal of sadness, resentment, and injustice in this land. I no longer feel that I am a pilgrim in a holy place, for the darkness of this conflict has overshadowed the remarkable history and rugged beauty of this land. But, I do feel purposeful and that our work is relevant.

I still have much to learn and am doing my best to sponge up information. My colleagues are fantastic, and I have very much enjoyed being part of an international community. I’ve been overwhelmed by the hospitality, generosity, and warmth of the many Palestinian families whom I have met. I’ve also been amazed by the courage of the handful of Israeli peace workers we have met who are resisting the dominant culture of Israeli politics to help their society move toward more just and peaceful policies.

Hebron

For the last few days we have had a whirlwind tour of Hebron where I will be stationed for the next few months. The current Accompaniers have been doing an outstanding job introducing us to our responsibilities as well as to many families in the area.

The town itself is fascinating. It is one of the oldest cities in the world, and houses the tomb of Abraham and Sarah, Isaac and Rebecca, and Jacob and Leah. It is laden with history, which sadly makes it today laden with conflict. Its recent history (last 100 years) has been quite tragic, with two defining massacres which still weigh heavily in the consciousness of local people.

The first of these massacres occurred in 1929 during the British Mandate Period of Palestine. Rising tensions in the city over Zionist attempts to create a Jewish State in Palestine led to rioting. Sixty-seven members of the Jewish community living there were killed by Palestinian rioters, and the majority of the surviving Jewish residents fled the area for fear of further violence.

Shortly following the 6 Days War in 1967, Israeli settlers returned to Hebron to claim parts of the central district of the Old City. Over the next few years, several hundred settler families moved into this area.

In 1994, at the Morning Prayer during Ramadan, one of the settlers, Dr. Baruch Goldstein, entered the Ibrahimi Mosque (the alleged burial place of the Abraham, Sarah, and the other Biblical couples) and opened fire. He killed 29 Palestinian men and boys, and injured 150 others.

Following this shooting, riots broke out which resulted in the deaths of 25 more Palestinians and 5 Israelis that week. Curfews were imposed and some level of order returned, but tensions remain high and conflict regularly re-emerges between settlers, the Israeli military, and local Palestinians.

Currently, the areas surrounding the Israeli settlements have been blocked off and declared a security area. This has resulted in many roads which are now no longer accessible to Palestinians by car, or in some cases, even by foot. Since the settlement is in the heart of the Old City, the main street has been essentially abandoned, with the majority of its shops closed by the military.

The street now feels something like a ghost town; deserted and vandalized by the Israeli settlers. In areas where the shops exist directly under Israeli settlement homes, metal screening has been installed above the street to prevent settlers from throwing refuse and rocks directly onto the heads of passing Palestinians. To the left you can see the variety of articles it has collected since its last cleaning.

Walking these streets is a haunting and disconcerting experience. There is deep sadness in the way that violence and retribution diminish people to the point that they no longer recognize other human beings as human, or as worthy of even the most minimal respect.

The scars in this city are deep, but the city nor the people are dead. In the face of every form of injustice and humiliation, the majority of residents in this town resist violence daily and strive for a decent and dignified life. Many whom I have met have persisted on with great dignity and remarkable restraint.

I plan to share some of their stories in the coming days, but I thought a little background on Hebron might be helpful at this point. Hopefully more soon.

The Team

Here we are, the Fantastic Five, sporting our new EAPPI Vests.

So far, things are off to a great start with many excellent conversations and experiences. I think we will form a strong and cohesive team, and lasting friendships.

The Group #37 Ecumenical Accompaniers stationed in Hebron (from left to right): Eva of Switzerland, Viking of Finland, Clark of the USA, Boginkosi of South Africa, and Marte of Norway.

Just Another Day in Jerusalem

Jerusalem is an overwhelmingly religious city. There is both an audible and visual cacophony of faith. It extends even to the dress of people, making it possible to distinguish the religion of an individual without even a conversation. There also seems to be a mosque, church, or synagogue on every corner, each commemorating a sight of significant religious importance.

This afternoon alone, I visited the Wailing Wall, the Temple Mount, the Dome of the Rock, the Al-Aqsa Mosque, walked the Via Dolorosa (commemorated as the road Jesus allegedly walked on his way up to Golgotha and marked with the Stations of the Cross), and saw the Church of the Holy Sepulcher. In addition to these, which rank amongst the most sacred sites for Judaism, Islam, and Christianity, I passed countless other shrines and buildings which I can't even begin to name. All the while, the streets resounded with the music of church bells, the mosques' calls to prayer, and an impressive group of dancing and clapping Orthodox Jews preparing young men for their Bar Mitzvahs.

This is all somewhat overwhelming. Everywhere in the Old City, religion is present and unavoidable. Sadly, it doesn’t seem to bring out the best in people. By way of example, the Church of the Holy Sepulcher; which marks the site where it is believed Christ was crucified, buried, and raised; hosts a somewhat competitive rivalry between what could realistically be a dozen Christian denominations. These rivalries over ownership, upkeep, and access grew so distrustful that the key to the church finally had to be given to a neutral party: a local Muslim family.

Of these groups, several have established monasteries and shrines to be a permanent part of this colossal compound. Protestants, who are generally a disagreeable lot when it comes to monasteries, shrines, and tradition, opted out of this site altogether and declared a new Golgotha out at the Garden of the Tomb. This they have outfitted with a lush garden, ample seating used for outdoor worship centers, and of course, a gift shop. It is however, delightfully free of the incense, iconography, gold gilding, and the other accouterments of Christian pilgrimage destinations that that leave us Presbyterians feeling totally out of our element.

All of this religion can make people a bit crazy. I was reading through my Lonely Planet guide and stumbled upon an article about the “Jerusalem Syndrome.” Evidently, people overwhelmed with the significance of the history and religion of this place begin to imagine themselves as modern day prophets, reincarnations of Biblical characters, or privy to knowledge about the messiah’s return. This is common enough that it is now clinically diagnosed in psychiatric hospitals in Israel and must undergo treatment (for more info, check out: http://savvytraveler.publicradio.org/show/features/2000/20000603/jerusalem.shtml).

A sad lesson Jerusalem is teaching me is that while religion possess a tremendous power to heal people, to help them grow, and to equip them to care about themselves and others, it also has the ability to divide people and justify violence. Within myself I find a subtle but frightening instinct to identify religious groups from afar by their clothing, and then to assume there is no reason to speak with them because surely I already know what they’ll say. Clearly, nothing could be further from the truth, particularly given my newness in this land. There is much to learn, and I pray for the strength to elevate the aspects of my own faith and religious convictions that call me to respect all people; that call me to honor God by honoring the breadth and majesty of God’s creation. This place is indeed overwhelming, but also deeply and challengingly inspiring.

Jerusalem! The Holy City.

Plans have been in the works so long, that I had started to believe that moving to Palestine and Israel was something I talked about, not something that I would actually pull off. But, much to my chagrin and delight, here I am.

I have made it, and I am tired. Naturally, I didn't get my packing done until late the night before I left, and I've never been very skilled at sleeping on planes. I arrived this morning around 8:00 am, and fortunately, preceded all of the other people in my program. This left me with a chance to get organized, do a little work, and then wander about the city. Sheer adrenaline has been keeping me up, which is evidently what one needs to do to minimize jet-lag.

This city hasn't struggled for a moment in providing me with adrenaline. It is a rugged and romantic city, filled to the brim with antiquity, hopes, tragedies, and intrigue. I really do get the sense that I'm standing at the very center of the world and that life is erupting out of this place; life in its full range of complexity.

It has been a rewarding day and probably one of the few that I'll be able to just wander around without thinking too much. It has been full of rich images, and I'll try and share a few here now:

The doors to the chapel of the church where we are staying.

An olive tree outside the wall of the Old City.

A fruit stand which smelled wonderfully of guavas.

The Wailing Wall - the stones of the Temple Mount, which was held by ancient Jews to be the very navel of the earth, the place where the divine presence connected with the physical world and instilled it with meaning.

Dry Bones

Here's a little writing I did for the newsletter for CODEP, one of the mission agencies we stayed with while in Haiti. I worked with them from 2003-04. You can find out more about CODEP at www.haitifundinc.org.

Ezekiel 37:1-6

The hand of the LORD came upon me, and he brought me out by the Spirit of the LORD and set me in the middle of a valley; it was full of bones. He led me all around them: there were very many lying in the valley, and they were very dry. He said to me, "Mortal, can these dry bones live?"

I answered, "O Lord God, you know."

Then he said to me, "Prophesy to these bones and say to them, 'O dry bones, hear the word of the LORD! Thus says the Lord God to these bones: I will cause breath to enter you, and you shall live. I will lay sinews on you, and will cause flesh to come upon you , and cover you with skin; and put breath in you, and you shall live; and you shall know that I am the LORD.

Haitians love proverbs, and Pastor Durex is no exception. Walking with him through the CODEP demonstration plot back in 2003 as a mission volunteer intern, he looked at me and said in Creole, “Prepare to fall.” I thought to myself that either this esteemed community minister was going to push me down (not likely), or my stumbling Creole wasn’t up to the task of understanding what Durex was telling me (pretty likely). My confused look prompted Durex to repeat himself, and sure enough he said slowly and clearly, “prepare to fall.” Then, with that sly three-toothed smile of his, he gestured to the edge of the demonstration plot and said, “We are about to leave Eden.”

Emerging from this beautiful garden that CODEP strategically planted alongside one of the major mountain thoroughfares, my sage friend again gestured to the barren hills in front of us with their jutting rocks and moon-like austerity. He said, “Here, the mountains have only bones.” Turning around, looking back at the emerging growth of the demonstration plot, which dramatically did illustrate how CODEP’s agricultural techniques could revitalize the land, he said, “but there they are growing meat!”

It was a powerful moment for me, one that caused the promises of Genesis and the questions of Ezekiel to echo in my mind. “Can these dry bones live?” I asked myself again and again walking through the mountains that day. Now, seven years later, I can say with confidence, yes. Yes, sinews and flesh are forming all through the CODEP project. The bones of the mountains there are growing meat.

Through a grant from the Rehoboth Project and the generosity of New Hope Presbytery, I was able to return to Haiti this August, leading a group of six other ministers and friends from around the United States. We spent several nights at the serene CODEP Guest House. We were graciously hosted by John and Debbie Winings, Clement and Paul.

And we hiked. We hiked up into the mountains, down into the demonstration plot, in and around fishponds, over to tree nurseries, and out to see incentive houses constructed by the Building Goodness Foundation. I was amazed. Perhaps most striking for me was the demonstration plot. Eucalyptus trees, which had been impressive years ago, were now as big around as my waist. Ferns of multiple varieties blanketed the ever-returning topsoil. Coffee and mangoes and numerous fruiting plants flourished in the cool shade.

The plot was looking even more Edenic than in 2003. The land is being rehabilitated. This rehabilitation is affecting the lives of the good people who live in the area. Children I saw there no longer had the red-tinged hair of malnourishment. Most of them were now wearing shoes and seemed to have a little meet on their bones as well. I was encouraged.

But, there is still work to be done. Pastor Durex’s church and school house where I did most of my work in 2003-04 is no more. A victim of the terrible earthquake, all that is left is the concrete foundation. We worshipped with the community of saints who still gathers there each week to sing praises and issue laments to God. They persist on as they did years ago, but now under a make shift shelter of salvaged aluminum, propped up by roughly hewn Eucalyptus branches harvested from prior CODEP plantings.

There is indeed work to be done. Numerous houses in the area were completely destroyed, and many people are still going without. But, the resilience of the Haitian people continues, and they persevere with diligence and even humor.

Leaving the CODEP project I was left with the confident feeling that these dry bones can live again. I saw evidence that they were taking on flesh. But, like so many times before, I was also haunted by the questions of what my involvement as an individual should be, and what our involvement as a community of faith should be in helping those dry bones live.

- Clark Scalera

Haiti Part One

Our group of ministers and documentary film maker arrived in Port-au-Prince last Wednesday around four. In these six days, at least a month has past. Our primary project has been to network with a variety of mission groups and relief agencies with the dual focus of gaining an understanding of post-earthquake Haiti, and exploring how this group of pastors could begin to form partnerships with their churches.

During this time, we have worked with and interviewed the leadership of Haiti Outreach Ministries, St. Joseph's Home for Boys, Wings of Hope, N a Sanje Foundation, and CODEP. We are on our way to Trinity House in Jacmel and then to tour a factory in Cap Haitian which manufactures a high nutrition peanut product used to treat malnutrition.

Along the way, we have also been trying to experience as much of the culture and landscape of Haiti as possible. In Port-au-Prince we were able to tour the rubble of the National Cathedral, see the collapsed Presidential Palace, uncover the famed Neg Marron statue which is burried in the midst of a sprawling tent city, and buy avocado, mango, and kineps (a small tropical fruit halfway between a muscadine grape and a mango) in the largest outdoor market of Haiti.

We also made it out to the kookie old Olifson Hotel (which inspired the setting for Graham Green's novel The Comedians) where we saw the house band RAM play. There is no question this was one of the most memorable adventures we've had, and one I would recommend to anyone traveling to Haiti who needs a little excursion. The music was haunting, powerful, and great to dance to. The assortment of people present was worthy of any novelist greatest creativity.

Since Port-au-Prince we have journeyed to the mountains above Leogane on the southern peninsula of Haiti where I used to live in 2003-04. We attended church with the little mountain congregation headed by Pastor Durex. It was startling to arrive and not see the old church building where I used to worship and teach classes, but to instead see a large green military tent and a makeshift shelter constructed of sticks and salvaged aluminum roofing. Yet, the singing, the prayers, the longing for a better life, and the support of community were unchanged.

Following worship, we walked up to the house where I used to live, which was also a jolt. It had been a two story structure built by the CODEP project. The bottom floor was an open space designed as a classroom. The top two small rooms (maybe 10x12). I stayed in one of the upper rooms of this concrete block building which required walking up about 10 feet of steps with no hand rail. When I returned on Sunday, I found the entire bottom floor completely gone, and the top floor totally intact, but resting comfortably on the ground!

From there, we began our hike into the interior to see the work of CODEP and their remarkable tree planting project. Unfortunately, about 45 minutes into our trip, right when we reached the demonstration plot (a section of forest strategically planted over a main footpath thoroughfare in the midst of a near dessert of deforestation), I began feeling quite ill. We all sat down for lunch, and like in an old western movie, I leaned up against a tree because I just wanted to go to sleep for a while. Fortunately, it turned out better than in the movies, and though I had to miss the rest of our hike and return to the guest house, I did wake up again! The rest of the group had a beautiful hike through the project area, and had a home stay with a family in the mountains. I was instead holed up in the guest house making frequent runs to the bathroom. Happily, health is returning and I'm about 90 percent.

On the whole, the trip thus far has been exceptional. As Haiti always is, it has been hard but very full. The tragedy and poverty of this land is offset by its hope and laughter. Generosity runs deep, and people care for one another (and us) in compelling ways.

On a personal note, it has been extremely meaningful for me to share this experience with so many of my close friends. Everyone on this trip has served as a conversation partner for me in the past on all sorts of matters. Now, we also are able to reflect deeply on Haiti together, a place whose complexity and mystery has profoundly affected me and my understanding of the world. I'm grateful to be having this experience.

Now, off to Jacmel!

Getting Started

Blogging is a brand new thing for me, but I'm excited to get this project up and running. Keep checking in to hear about the progress I'm making on my plans to work with the Ecumenical Accompaniment Programme in Palestine and Israel (EAPPI).

I'll also be reflecting on an upcoming trip to Haiti (August 18-28) and various adventures I have before departing for the Holy Land on October 2nd.

Check out the links to the right to find out a bit more about what the future holds for me.