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