Yad Vashem "lessons?"

One day we went to the Israeli Holocaust Museum, Yad Vashem.
I had been there many years ago, and found certain parts particularly moving.

But that was before the museum was renovated. What is called The Children's Memorial continues to be a powerful experience.
The rest of the museum felt to me like a multi-media barrage of the senses. Pictures, relics, music, old film-footage and tapes of interviews with survivors surround the visitor and in my case instead of inspiring me to make sure it never happens again, it just made me feel I was being hit over the head with a lead pipe.

And the final area settled it. It was basically a room saying "because of our suffering in the holocaust, we have the right to take over Palestine..." Never mind the fact that doing so would cause so much suffering for the people who already lived here!

Also different from the last time I went to Yad Vashem is the fact that the last time I was there was before I knew about the suffering of the Palestinians.
I am definitely not saying the Holocaust = the Occupation.
BUT certain ironies are unavoidable.

Early in the museum is a quote: "A country is not just what it does --it is also what it tolerates." (Kurt Tucholsky)
Israel tolerates oppressing Palestinians in so many ways...

Payne noticed another irony as he went through. As the museum traced the activities of the Third Reich the signs said: "When Germany occupied Poland it did this... When they occupied France they did so and so ... when they occupied another country..." Helloo -- maybe occupying a country does not bring out the best of any one!

A few days later we were in Hebron and a CPT (Christian Peacemaker Team member) pointed out another irony.
At the time of Kristallnacht, Nazis painted a Star of David on the doors of houses of
Jews, marking them for boycott and later arrest and torture and death.
In modern day Hebron, Jewish Settlers paint the doors of Palestinians with a Star of David.

What was really learned from the Holocaust?
Never again.
Except for some people.

a happier Pentecost-like gathering

Our worship experiences here have been varied.
... already described our first Sunday with all Arabic-speaking Lutherans in Beit Sehour
... and we were at the Church of the Annunciation our second Sunday
.... and we joined with Sabeel for a Thursday noon service
... and we were in the Negev with Bedouins our third Sunday
... and we shared the bread of life and cup of forgiveness on Aush Ghrab (sorry, that blog-post isn't written yet)

So for our 4th Sunday we went to St George's Anglican - Episcopal Cathedral in Jerusalem.
We were interested in both the scheduled 9:30 AM Arabic-speaking service and the 11 AM English-speaking service. So we set off with the attitude that the amount of time we spent on checkpoints would determine which service we arrive in time for.

By now we are getting somewhat used to the routine at the check points. Everyone gets off the bus. We show our passports and are usually done easily (though one time we were challenged by a soldier who looked about 14 with a way-oversized gun: "Why do you want to go to this place?" My answer is always "Tourists.")
Anyway it's easy for us. But the Palestinians have to produce a permit. If they say "Mustashfa" it means they have to go to a hospital. Ironically, that means they have to go aside, in the hot sun, and stand around waiting while the soldiers take their stuff inside for a computer check. We've seen several weary, queazy looking older people not allowed back on the bus. (And at "rolling checkpoints" when soldiers simply stop a bus that's driving down the road anywhere it happens to be, we've seen old women and mothers with crying babies told to get off the bus and the bus had to just leave them on the side of the road, miles from their destination.)
How long the wait at the checkpoint is can be related to the intensity of the soldier at the time and the luc of who your fellow passengers happen to be. At some of the checkpoints everyone gets off, the bus goes aside and then reloads with who ever gets approved first -- so you may arrive at the checkpoint with one group of passengers and leave with all different people.

At any rate, we arrived in Jerusalem Sunday apparently too late for the Arabic service and too early for the English. So with spare time I asked the deskperson at St George's if we could have a look around. He told us "Today's a special combined service - it just started!"

So in we walked (Not to the front row!) for a combined Arabic & English service -- with Bishop Suheil Dawani presiding (and retelling the sermon in Arabic) and Bishop Te Kitohi Pikaahu from New Zealand preaching, and a seminary classmate, Bob Edmunds as a Canon, and Naim Ateek in the seats across the aisle from us.

So prayer and worship were joyfully shared in at least three languages, as the guest preacher offered his prayers in Maori. And it was a joyful celebration, as both Bishops reported that in their experience Lambeth was a a very positive gathering with faithfulness at its heart, and in their view the Anglican communion lives. Praise God!

Pentecost ... except!

We finally had a day to walk and pray along the Via Dolorosa in Jerusalem. The traditional full "Palm Sunday walk" route is no longer possible. It began in Bethany, a city now called Azariah - for Lazarus. After he raised Lazarus from the dead the final plot began to kill Jesus. The traditional walk begins at the convent marking the home of Mary & Martha and walking in to Jerusalem. This walk is no longer possible because The Wall separates Azariah / Bethany from Jerusalem.

So we began at the Mount of Olives, with a short detour to the Mosque marking Jesus' Ascension and the Pater Noster Church marking Jesus' teaching the disciples to pray. We entered Jerusalem through St Stephen's gate and walked the route from Jesus' Condemnation to the church of the Holy Sepulcher & traditional place of the Crucifixion & tomb.

There were huge crowds along the way, some very devout, others less interested, and shop-keepers eager to divert us from our spiritual purposes. I always remind myself that this is actually what it was like when it took place in Jesus' time. It was not a nice, quiet, prayerful event, like we want to recreate in church. It was noisy and smelly and chaotic. It was pushing and shoving. It was entertainment -- look - another crucifixion - and most of the people watching had no appreciation that it was Jesus Christ the Son of God who was going to his death. It was just another gathering for them. So when it doesn't feel all pretty and holy, it's really more realistic.

That said, with huge, long lines waiting to touch this spot and see that possible real tomb spot, B & P & I ducked into the back room of the Coptic church and found NO one there at the time. The cave / tomb was lit by only a single candle. We climbed into the small space and were there in silence for a minute or two, alone, wondering if this was how Mary Magdalene felt on that dark morning.

Later we went through the Ethiopian Orthodox church and up onto the roof and through another chapel and a passageway to a cistern (for once I had the advantage being shorter then B & P !) In the cistern there was an amazing echo, making my single voiced Alleluia! sound like a whole choir.

After The Stations we headed to Jaffa Gate where we found a parade of bagpipers! A crowd gathered as the pipes played. I looked around at that point and saw Hasidim with their traditional spectacular fur hats (when they get hot they take them off there is a yarmulke underneath). And I saw Monks in long robes in various browns, whites and grays from various orders. And I saw people who were Asian. And I saw people in traditional African garb.

Remember the book of Acts?
The Apostles were gathered in Jerusalem where there were people from so many languages and tribes, and they were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak and everyone heard in their own language .... And here in Jerusalem it is today as it was then - people of all nations are gather.

For a moment I rejoiced at experiencing this. Pentecost happens still today!

Then I remembered.

I am living with a Palestinian family whose family has been Christian since the very first Pentecost, whose ancestral home is in the very Shepherds Fields where the angels proclaimed the birth of the baby Jesus.
But my host family is not allowed to come to Jerusalem. They have to stay behind The Wall.
The children who fly kites with my son in Bethlehem have never been allowed to travel the roads to Jerusalem, or walk the Via Dolorosa as we did this day.

It's like Pentecost -- except -- not for everyone.

We began our day today not far from where Jesus wept over Jerusalem.
He still weeps.

The weather, food, seat belts and other basics of life

Coming from Philadelphia, we find ourselves actually enjoying the weather here. Sounds trite, but humidity is really what it's all about. It's Ssso dry here, that we are not very bothered by the high temperatures, and enjoy being able to breathe easily.


The surprise for us is the wind. Most of the time there is some breeze. But at dusk it often becomes real wind, with lots of gusts that actually shake our stone home and make a ghostly noise. Now it's obvious to me how the disciples got in a boat in calm and then suddenly found themselves in a life threatening storm -- before I always thought it was strange that as fishermen they had not known better to anticipate this, now I know how sudden and unpredictable it is...


Payne has taken to joining in the logical local thing to do with this weather -- he flies kites with Jimi and Alla. Kite flying is definitely a major popular activity!


We are loving the food. Our hostess, Elham, is a great cook who makes most foods from scratch. She's trying to teach me to make Turkish coffee but I still don't quite have the hand. Her husband, Hamdi, has finally been able to come home from Jordan for a while, and he's a good cook too.

The major local hot-spot for locals to eat, drink and smoke nargilla is a place in the Shepherd's Fields called The Tent.

The Siraj program offers Arabic cooking classes. The other day, Payne & I were the only ones to show up for class so we had a super-private lesson from Abdullah at Ala Kaifak restaurant. We made 'Makluba' which means 'upside down.' Even at a professional restaurant it took 1 1/2 hours to fix but it was worth it (we got to eat it after cooking.)

Baird missed that cooking class because she was off with 'her little sister' Aseel. She goes to Aseel's volleyball practice and they are verifying that teen-age girl stuff is the same in Palestine as it is in America.... Whenever I walk in the room they ask me to leave... did you know a kuffiyeh could be a halter top?...

Our host family with extended cousins etc gets together all the time -- at least right now they do. One of Elham's sisters is here from Canada for the Summer -- it's their first time here in ten years so the family is trying to make up for Lots of lost together years.

At 10:15 every night the streets of Bet Sehour are empty because everyone is in the house in front of the tv for a Turkish soap opera -'Nur'. We can figure out what's going on without knowing the language...

The seatbelt thing is interesting. The Israelis are very strict about tickets for not wearing seatbelts. A little rebellion of the Palestinians is that as soon as they are out of sight of Israelis they take off their seatbelts. It is a sign of not wanting to be confined, as they are so strapped in and limited in so many other ways by the occupation. It's obviously a rather self-defeating rebellion because people drive like crazy around here, with their horns as their major weapons on the road. Payne is particularly annoyed by the horns and has various plots to silence them...

So these are a few of the everyday things in life in the OPT.

You can't get there from here

After seeing the wall around Rachel's Tomb we decided to visit the tomb.

Most afternoons our Arabic class ends at 2:30 and we have until 5ish before we need to go home (and then head out for our evening program). The Siraj people who came in June have the more advanced Arabic class during this time.
So B, P & I are trying to do mini-trips in this slot.

Rachel's Tomb as the crow flies would be a 15 minute walk from Bethlehem University.
But there's The Wall.
So armed with our trusty American passports and my little map we took off for a place our hosts cannot go.

We walked up toward the main traditional entrance to Bethlehem, along The Wall. Then we came to the security entrance, walking along a single-file ramp which zig-zagged in front of the Wall and went through a security gate & scanner. (Sorry, No photos allowed). this took us out into an area that looked like a big parking lot -- an open sort-of 'no person's zone.' There was hardly anyone around and we thought we were through - surprisingly easily. We asked a man there "How do we get to Rachel's Tomb." He laughed and said it was impossible for us to go there. You have to go to Jerusalem, make an appointment, get on a special bus, then come back. We smiled, and figured he must be talking about the rules for Palestinians, not for us privileged Americans...

We then entered the building on the far side of the no man's land. Again no pictures allowed. We had to go through a series of those one way bar / exit things like on subways. Then we were in a line, with our trusty passports in hand. A voice from somewhere told us when we were allowed through the next barred gate. I was through but B & P were not yet allowed.
I put my backpack on a scanner - was concerned that the loose straps might be caught in the rollers as it went through. Meanwhile, I walked through and showed my passport. The soldier looked and said "You go, Now." But I didn't have my bag. The scanner had stopped with the bag inside. She said again "GO" - but I wanted my bag. And also - I wanted my kids! So I didn't want to go. Again she commanded me to go. Meanwhile, the kids got through another stage behind me, but I still wouldn't leave with them. It was confusing -- and I was stressing, thinking that there was some problem with my bag, and anxious to make sure that B & P would also get through.
Imagine how much more stressful it would be for a nervous Palestinian who knows that just on a whim a soldier can decide to say "No, you can't go today."

Finally we all got through and after passing yet another show the passport-soldier-spot we were out in the open air - technically out of Bethlehem and in Jerusalem. Well - not exactly, in truth, because The Wall and this whole checkpoint and the land on both sides of it is actually all Palestinian and by UN Resolution (and the USA has agreed with this repeatedly) this checkpoint is on stolen occupied land, way over the Green Line into Palestine...

Anyway, now to Rachel's Tomb at last.
Only -- you really can't get there from here.

The Wall doubles back to surround the tomb and surrounds the tomb. The only access to the tomb is by driving along the Jerusalem side of the Wall through a bus or car-only access road. Pedestrians aren't allowed to go there -- we even saw some Hassidic men trying (yes, they wear those Heavy wool overcoats & hats even in July) and they were also denied access while on foot.

So, we didn't get to Rachel's tomb. Instead we went back through the scanners and passport controls -- it is a Lot easier to go out of Israel than in.

Then we took our time walking back, looking at the very creative graffiti on the way.
My favourite one says
"Jesus will tear down this wall."
In the name of justice and peace for both Palestinians and Israelis,
I pray he will soon.

Marhaba, wen inti

There is a Seinfeld episode where Jerry is resisting getting a cell phone. We have decided to try too get through our time here without one (actually, we'd need to get 3!) -- but pretty much everyone has them.
(Note to self- next time don't have a sprint-linked phone when coming abroad because they don't use transferrable sim cards)

Jerry Seinfeld's comedy routine was basically "Why have a cell phone? All people ever talk about on cell phones is where they are and when they expect to be somewhere else."

Sure enough, after a week of Arabic classes with Jad Abu Said we still feel like we are never going to learn enough of this challenging language.
But when we get on the bus, we discover we can eavesdrop on cell phone conversations easily.
Because Jerry's right.
All they ever say is "Hello, where are you, I'm on the bus, I'll see you at so and so."
Marhaba, wen inti?
My Arabic is brilliant...

Revisiting familiar places

A dozen of us had a very full weekend trip provided by Siraj.
Sadly, our Siraj hosts could not come with us - they are Palestinians and do not have permits to enter Israel.
So they got us a guide who is an Israeli-Arab with permission to drive there.
There was a dual purpose for this trip of pilgrimage to the traditional places in the Holy Land in the Galilee region and of seeing the sites of lost and unrecognized Palestinian villages in Israel.

We traveled along the outskirts of The Wall, up the Western side of Palestine.
When we reached the Galilee I was finally in old familiar places, recalling past pilgrimages, remembering things like renewing Baptismal covenants in the rain in the Jordan river, scary rides with crazy taxi drivers to the top of Mt Tabor (our driver this time was more cautious!) The old sites are mostly unchanged -- but on the way up to the Church of the Transfiguration you pass crowds of hang-gliders now!
And at the Mount of the Beatitudes most of the open fields are now being filled with a visitor center and tourist store.
And at Cana they have now opened up an area under the church to see the previous Byzantine church which the present church is built on top of...

And all along - we opened our Bibles and followed the life of Christ around the region. For me it was a return, for the rest of the group it was new -- and I delight in seeing the Bible stories come to life (of course especially for Baird & Payne...)

We stayed at St Margaret's Anglican guest house, and began our Sunday morning at Mary's Well and the Church of the Annunciation in Nazareth.

Then we went to some places I've not been before. Akke is an old walled city on the Mediterranean. And there are new, spectactular gardens of the Bahai in Haifa.

Then we went on to lunch in an unrecognized Palestinian village. We were stuffed full to bursting in mid-afternoon - then sat down to see a video of the struggle for the village to be recognized. If Israel does not recognize a village they have no public electricity, water or roads, no legal access to schools, and anything they build is illegal, so periodically bulldozers arrive to demolish their homes (thank you, Caterpillar, for the machines specially designed for this purpose). This particular village was finally recognized after over 50 years of intense lobbying -- but there still isn't a decent road to it.

Our last major stop of the trip was the most moving of the day. It was the site of the former village of Tantura. In 1948 it was a lovely Mediterrean seaside town with prosperous houses dating to pre-Ottoman times. Today there is just the shell of one of those houses. There's a big fence around the area and where homes used to be there are now these funky vacation pods - they look sort of like concrete igloos. I admit I didn't see the point in getting out of the bus and trying to go in and walk around the resort. At first I just looked around in disgust, unable to imagine anything but the way it looks now that the vacationers have taken over everything. But then an old man emerged from the water and began to speak with our guide. Turns out he was one of the residents of Tantura in '48. He now lives in a new, inland village, but regularly sneaks back here because it Is his beach. He pointed to various spots -- "there is where they made the men dig a big pit. Then they shot them and buried them in the pit. There is where my house used to be. There is where we used to have the school...."

He cannot live here anymore, but he revisits familiar places and remembers.
Re - members: through his words he puts the pieces together for us, in our minds.
And passes on to us the challenge to help the massacred village of Tantura be re-membered by others as well...