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...

Night Invasion

I work with a remarkable woman, Nadia Harb. I've already written about the difficult circumstances she and her husband and four children face in their living situation by Rachel's Tomb and The Wall.
At work Nadia has spent the last twenty years traveling around Bethlehem & surrounding villages setting up women's support groups. These groups provide counseling and training in things like home gardening, and are now in search of micro-credit projects. Several of them have started mini-fitness centers -- I try to imagine them pumping iron in their long dresses...

For those who read the media reports that there is a lot of religious conflict between Palestinians, I might note that Nadia is a devout Orthodox Christian, but almost all the work she does is among Muslim women. Remember the controversy that US soldiers couldn't wear crosses while serving in Saudi Arabia? Well here Nadia (and now I) wear crosses and have our heads uncovered and wear short sleeved shirts while we are surrounded by women who are covered from head to toe. Actually, not Totally covered - they mostly don't wear veils here. You really have to recognize a person by the view of a small part of the face. (I think: "I wouldn't want to be a teen with acne, since that's all people see." But then I realize I really haven't seen much acne -- maybe a better diet?)

Anyway, the religious difference with Nadia doesn't matter with these women. Although it does seem clear that on the whole Christians are more affluent. This is probably because they have fewer children and also so many of the Muslim women's husbands (and sons) are now or have been in prison or killed. And un- and under- employment is lower among Christians -- partly because so many of the Christians in that situation have left the country.

I'm afraid I am not really doing a lot to help, because my Arabic is so limited. But I do know, as I found on the Katrina mission trip, my presence is helpful in that they want to tell their stories, to be heard, to know that someone wants to know about them. So even though it is through an interpreter, they are receiving some healing through the act of telling.

One woman from Bet Fajar had quite a story last week.
Bet Fajar is outside the main city area of Bethlehem. You have to go outside the area where the Wall is being built (which means when construction is done, instead of a ten minute drive to Bethlehem it will be two hours to the one entrance, and then a long wait at a checkpoint. Picture a clock - they will have to travel counterclockwise from 11 to 1).
I assume Bet Fajar is being excluded from Bethlehem not just because good farm land will be cut off from the farmers and in three years become the property of Israel, but also because there are several new Settlements under construction in the area.

This woman, Samira, had just been released from her house. Four days prior Israeli soldiers came into Bet Fajar in search of someone (maybe the guy they killed in Hebron last weekend?)
Anyway, they arrived in town around midnight and began knocking on doors and going into houses to search for him. When they came to the Women's Center, naturally, no one was in at midnight so no one came to open the door. So they smashed in the windows.
Then they came to Samira's house, which is located at the highest point in the village. apparently they decided this would be a good lookout point. So they moved in. Samira lives with her elderly parents. Her mother uses an oxygen machine. They turned it off, and made all the family live in a different area of the house while they stayed four days. Then they simply packed up and left.

We all listened helplessly as Samira told her story. Others from the village nodded in recollection of this night invasion. But this sort of thing does not even make the news -- it is so common here.
Samira takes a breath while the interpreter recounts what she has just said.
Then she says words for which I do not need an interpreter.
All we want is peace. All we want is to live in peace. We do not want fighting with America or Israel or anyone.
And everyone in the room agrees.

A Wall at which to Weep

Payne, fellow Siraj volunteer Sherrill and I went to lunch at my boss' house next to The Wall. Her house is one of the first sites of The Wall because it is near to Rachel's Tomb.
From the outside it doesn't look like anyone could be living here - it appears to be the unfinished shell of a building under construction. We stood outside wondering if it was the right address, near the Intercontinental Hotel (which is also nearly vacant).

Nadia came out and greeted us. "How do you like my beautiful home?" she asked.
We smiled politely, unsure what to say, as we entered a concrete, completely unfinished ground level and climbed through rubble up a flight of stairs. As we turned the corner atop the stairs at first we still saw unfinished concrete -- then suddenly there was a clearing, nicely tiled and attractively furnished. Who would have guessed this was inside this building?
We enjoyed tea and cake and met some of Nadia's family and a comfortable sitting room off the kitchen. Nadia and her children told us the story of her living situation.

Years ago there was a more normal home at this location.
During the hopeful times of Oslo so-called negotiations her family combined resources with cousins to raze the old house and put up this four story structure which was to have shops at ground level and apartments above.
They got as far as finishing the first living area. But even before the Intifada there was some trouble because of the proximity to Rachel's Tomb. And when the Intifada began their building was the first major hot-spot. Eventually they were forced to move out as the upper floors of their building were taken over first by Palestinian militants who found it a good location to throw rocks and the tiles which the family was intending to install in the house. Next the soldiers moved in and (like the movie "Private") locked the family into the apartment while they used other portions of the building to stage their observation posts.

So the family moved to what they thought was a safer place, in Beit Sehour. Only there they found themselves living near Au Shgrab -- which at the time was an Israeli military post. So once again, they found themselves getting shot at! Next they moved to what seemed a safe place in Bethlehem. But it happened to be located next to the Muquata -- which was bombed! So eventually they came back to this home by Rachel's Tomb. And now they are living in the shadow of The Wall.

After cautious warnings not to step out of the shadows with our cameras we climbed upstairs to see -- here is where the soldiers stayed, here are spent tear-gas canisters, here are bullet holes, here are the remains of broken tiles. And there is The Wall. The soldiers in the watchtowers have probably already spotted us. Behind The Wall are two other walled areas.
One surrounds the home of a Palestinian family which refuses to move and has absolute proof that they have a right to stay. So they are nearly imprisoned in their home. There is one key and they are able to go in & out only at very limited times. The other inner wall surrounds the tomb of the beloved wife Jacob and mother of Joseph and Benjamin.

On the side of the separation Wall there is lots of grafitti -- we may set up a page of grafitti-blog eventually. Some of it is quite thoughtful. For example one grafitti says "This is a Wall at which to Weep." It could be contrasting this with the Wailing Wall in Jerusalem. Or it could match with another grafitti nearby "Jesus weeps not only for Jerusalem, but also for Bethlehem." Or it could refer to the story of Herod's massacre in Matthew which speaks of the Jeremiah prophecy "Rachel weeps for her children."

Because they lost so much in the fighting and many moves, and now there is over 50% unemployment, and the failure of the Intercontinental hotel next door is indicative that businesses can't succeed so close to the wall (on what was once an enviable & prosperous street) Nadia's family is unable to continue the construction. For the foreseeable future they will live in the hidden apartment in the the building that at one time was thought to be a dream coming true.

There was one more highlight to our visit.
As we enjoyed Nadia's hospitality we were startled and frightened by a sudden sound of "Bang, bang, bang" outside. Is there more trouble? More shooting?
Not this time.
This is the day the results of the national high school exam came out. All around Palestine, students are finding out if they have qualified to go to college. They are shooting off fireworks (in the middle of the day) to celebrate their results. The fireworks continue all day and into the night, and carloads of students drive around whooping and cheering.
It is strange to us - to make the sound of guns in a place where the suffering from shooting is so real. But it's their way of celebrating.
Life goes on in the OPT.

Sometimes it's not bread and wine

Somehow our trip to the Negev desert was rescheduled to fill a full Sunday. I was sorry to miss church, but at least we shared eucharist at Sabeel in Jerusalem on Thursday (with Naim Ateek, CPTers, Mordechai Vanunnu and others --but that's Another blog).

Our guide to meet Bedouins now located in Israel was Angela Godfrey Goldstein from the International Committee Against House Demolitions (ICAHD). She was inspiring and exhausting.

In the desert we drove into a new development of houses & a daycare center-- clearly being built to be there permanently. Around it are fields of recently planted trees -- as I said, in the desert. Angela explained this is called something like "the Canadian Ambassador's forest."
We left the development and went down the road a short distance, then pulled off the road, driving on a barely visible track across the desert.

Finally, in what seemed to be the middle of nowhere, we stopped and got out. There was a tarp over a simple wooden frame, with some mats on the ground under the tarp. Angela remarked that she was sorry we had forgotten to bring our host something like a bottle of water.

Then we met the man who lives in this "tent" -- Nuri Al-Okei. He is the person who owns this land. He has the papers to prove it. While most Bedouins simply lived on their lands with an understanding and mutual trust about who belonged where for centuries, when Israel was first established Nuri's family followed the protocol Israel established to formally protect their legal status as land owners. The new development we had just seen was built on his land. The residents of the development are trying to get him to go away; they are affluent squatters creating facts on the ground. It's an illegal occupation within Israel itself.

Nuri has been living in this tent alone in the desert since 2006. Well - not THIS tent --because whenever he leaves his tent, such as to go to get food or water or to see family, the squatters destroy the tent. This happened as recently as last week -- he showed us the charred remains of the previous tarp. They even burned his trash bag!
Then they plowed furrows in the area so there was no flat space to set up his tent again.

Friends came and helped clear the spot and helped him put up a new tent.
This is the land which has been in his family since pre-Ottoman times and he does not want to leave it. He owns it. He has the papers. But the development continues to build on his land. He really does not seem to be crazy - he is just fighting for justice.

On the frame of the tent are a few nails which hold his food - a bag of pitas on one nail, a bag of fruit & onions on another. On the ground are bottles of water. This appears to be all he has for his day to day subsistence -- this and cell phones and a laptop!

Our group of eight sits uncomfortably on the mats on the ground, hearing his amazing story, wondering how he survives, while the heat and long-legged ants are enough to make us feel even living here a single day would be too long.

Then he gets out some cups -- this man who has practically nothing in the desert -- and he gives us his water. We Are thirsty -- yet we know he has so little.

As we share his water I remember it is Sunday morning.
This is our communion.

The Church's time

You know how when you live somewhere you don't rush to see your local special sites... Well it took us nearly a week of walking through Manger Square daily (at least) before we got around to going into the Church of the Nativity. Our schedules are Really full and the official Siraj tour was given for the people who arrived in July... Anyway, one afternoon after Arabic class I got out the guidebook (to make it official for B & P, who had never been.)

It always makes me sad that Christians fight over the birthplace of Jesus so that the Church of the Nativity is divided into areas: Here's the this Orthodox, here's the that Orthodox, here's the Armenian section, here's where the Anglicans go at Christmas etc.

But we timed our visit very well. We were down in the cave, the only visitors there at the moment, looking at the star where tradition holds the manger lay, when a verger asked us to step aside and suddenly in came a choir of monks and nuns and thurifer and chanting priest for a brief 3 PM prayer time. Then we went upstairs where the Armenians were doing the same, and next door where the Catholics (they insist they are Not Roman Catholics here, though they are part of the church which is obedient to the bishop of the Vatican.)

Although it is sad there are divisions, it was moving to experience the three various expressions of faith one after another -- and it is good to know that every day there are people taking time to celebrate the incarnation in Bethlehem.

Next we went to the Milk Grotto. The Milk Grotto has never been a place of interest for me before. The site is a church over a cave. The natural colour of stone in the vicinity is black. But at this site it is milk white. Tradition explains that when the holy family was escaping Herod's massacre, they hid in this cave for a while.When Mary was nursing Jesus a drop of milk fell and turned the cave white.

Again, our timing was serendipitous. A chanting/prayer time was in progress. The cave in the basement is an ancient tourist / pilgrimage spot. But beyond that space, upstairs, is a very modern church. It is filled with light from beautiful stained glass windows. As Payne & I were wondering about one of them, a gentleman came upt to us and proudly explained that it depicts the eclipse that took place on Good Friday.
He happily told us this is a living church, not just a site to remember the past, but also a place with an active faithful congregation. But he also remarked that sadly many Christians have moved away recently -- the building of the Wall was the proverbial straw on the camel's back. But there is a faithful remnant, and they need our prayers for this place which loves Jesus the same yesterday, today and tomorrow.

Or should I say imberrah, ilyom w bukra.