Delicious Food, Great Views, Food for Thought
The roof of the Holman's home affords some of the most spectacular views of Jerusalem imaginable. Our group posed up there holding a copy of the Metro-Lutheran, with the intent of getting the photo published in the paper's feature section where they show mission workers in locations all over the world holding a copy of...yes...the Metro-Lutheran .
In addition to our MN group, there were several other people there, all of whom in one way or another are involved in peace efforts here in the Middle East. The Holmans hired a talented local fellow who does catering to prepare some of the most exquisite food you can imagine. (I love any variety of Mediterranean food, btw. My hunch is that you can tell how old/mature a civilization is based on how good its food and/or wine is.) We were treated to homemade mince-meat kebabs and a regional favorite made with chicken and rice known as Machlubay (I'm sure that's not a proper transliteration), also known amongst Westerners as “Upside-Down” (because when it is served, the entire pot is inverted and deposited intact on the serving dish). See photo above for a sense of how appetizing this meal was.
After dinner, we were further treated to a briefing and discussion session with Pastor Mark Nelson's sister-in-law Margaret “Meg” Coker, a journalist with the highly respected Cox News Agency based in Atlanta. For a number of years, Meg has been the Middle East correspondent for Cox, and her perspectives on the region and its problems were rock solid and highly illuminating. Among her many insights, she commented that with all the efforts in the past decade to keep Palestinians and Israelis completely separated, the two peoples now no longer have any opportunity to know one another as humans—only as demonized stereotypes. Sad. Walls clearly do not better neighbors make.
Saturday, April 5 – The Maps Don't Lie
In the morning, our group met up at the Martin Luther School next to LCR to take part in a teach-in session given by Julie Rowe, who is assistant to Bishop Younan of the ELCJHL. (It turns out that Julie is a big Harry Wendt/Crossways International fan.) Her presentation was titled “Overview of the Situation on the Ground,” which featured documented facts and graphics provided by the United Nations' Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs (OCHA). It was stark and disturbing. I will not try to couch what I have to say about what I learned in soft language or feigned objectivity. The facts—and the maps that so dispassionately depict the facts—show that the government of Israel is illegally and systematically snatching up acres and acres of land they have no right by International law to seize, and, in the process, they are fracturing the Palestinian territories into small, isolated ghetto-states, from which the indigenous peoples are not permitted to come or go. How can a people hemmed in and cut off like that ever be expected to function, let alone thrive? We have a humanitarian crisis on our hands that needs attention.
Moving to New Digs
Our itinerary had us checking out of the Hotel Golden Walls before noon on Saturday, and relocating to the St. Georges Guest House, not too far away. I've been told that we moved to the St. George because it's less expensive than the noisy, urban Golden Walls—besides, it offers a change of scenery. When you see all the pix of the St. George, you won't believe that it could possibly be cheaper than where we were. It's beautiful, quiet, spacious—idyllic. It's like a monastic retreat, yet with wireless internet capabilities.
A Bad Dream I Had Called Hebron
Saturday afternoon, we went to Hebron. Hebron is in the West Bank which, according to the UN, etc. is Palestinian territory, except that there are illegal Jewish settlements there that necessitate a strong Israeli military presence to protect and defend the settlements.
It was an awful experience to be there—and yet utterly exhilarating in a way, too. Much of my life I feel like I am on autopilot, lulled into a dogmatic slumber born out of lassitude and comfort. In Hebron, I was out of my comfort zone. I was awake. I was alive. By necessity.
As soon as we went through the main checkpoint in Hebron, we were stalled by soldiers (i.e., machine gun-toting adolescents). Then we were allowed to proceed. Then, a block later, we were stopped again by a policeman (age approximately 18), and a heavily armed soldier (age approximately 16), who decided to detain us. They told us we could not proceed upon the road ahead. The reason, when asked? “For your own safety.” Which was utter B.S. Our guides, Valentina and Sultana (see photo above)—two petite but immeasurably brave women—questioned them as to why Internationals (like us) who were allowed to take this route all the time otherwise should be forbidden now. A lot of questions were radioed in to superior commanding officers...and ultimately we were permitted to proceed.
What we saw was bleak. The part of Hebron we walked though looked like a war zone. Barbed wire everywhere. All the commerce was dead and gone. Soldiers were on every corner. I'd be busy training my camera on some photo-worthy scene, and suddenly I'd notice there was a soldier in camouflage, high up in a machine-gun nest, with his gun pointed at me.
The streets we walked were like a ghost town. Where commerce and trade once flourished, now only fear and threat and paranoia thrived. The pictures I took can say it better than I can. Dave Dynneson from our group summed it up quite eloquently: “This is insane.”
It was like a bad dream. When I get back home to the States you will see video clips I shot of a confrontation between a Muslim man who wanted to pray in the mosque, and an Israeli soldiers who wanted to detain him. This man yelled at the armed soldiers with more boldness (or stupidity?) than I could ever muster. The loudest, most aggressive Israeli soldier confronting him was a very young, petite, black-skinned woman, armed to the teeth. The entire scene made one rethink all of our preconceptions about race, gender, power, politics, and religion. And possibly psychology.
My Long-Lost Cousin, Lars
We were told that the mosque was open to tourists, even as the synagogue and the Macpelah Cave (burial site of Abraham and the other patriarchs and matriarchs) was closed to non-Jews since it was the Shabbat.
So we walked around the Muslim region through their Suq (marketplace). Along the way we saw two very dark black men with tags on their shirts that said “OBSERVERS.” I had to stop them and ask them what, precisely, they were a observing and where they were from. “We're here on a peace-keeping mission,” the one told me. “And we are from Norway.”
“Norway!?!? Me too!” I replied.
“What part?”
“The Telmark region.”
“That's not far from where I live,” he replied.
So we had to have our picture taken together: Evan Hansen, grandson of Arthur J. Hansen of Norway, posing with his long-lost Norwegian cousin, Lars.
2000 Years Ago, Roman Centurions; Today, Israeli Soldiers.
At one point, a small regiment of troops walked through the Suq with machine guns up, clips in place, pointed as if about to open fire. They had an attack dog out in front of them. Dave D., a Vietnam vet, told us how this was something simply not done unless you were on patrol in a hostile region and needed to be ready to fire at a moment's notice. These loaded guns, with fingers on the triggers, were pointed at elderly old unarmed merchants simply trying to eke out a meager income. These poor old fellows would be out of their minds to attempt any threat on the Occupiers. The politics of intimidation?
Dinner with the Bishop
Saturday night we were slated to have dinner with Bishop Munib Younan, who is highly revered throughout the region. As I've said before, the Bishop is an intense man—a man of great passion and conviction. If you've ever seen the movie “Romero,” about the South American bishop, you'll know what I'm getting at. So the Bishop invited us to be his guests at the az-Zahra restaurant in East Jerusalem.
This was a potentially nerve-wracking situation. Dinner with a great spiritual and moral leader makes one worry just a little more than usual about one's table manners, not to mention one's ability to make conversation without betraying what an idiot one is.
So the Bishop arrived later than all of us and, as soon as he sat down, he asked us if we had ever had Arak before (I hope/think I'm transliterating that properly). Those in our group who have been to the Mideast before knew exactly what this was; the rest of us were clueless.
It turns out Arak is basically Mideast Ouzo, only served differently. The Bishop said that even as Our Lord turned water into wine, in the Middle East they can turn water into milk. What did he mean? Basically this: Arak is colorless, like water. But to properly enjoy it, you add water, then ice. And it turns all milky and translucent. And (in moderation of course) it perfectly complements the wonderful, healthy array of salad and mixed grill that followed.
Isolated fact: The Bishop has not only a spectacularly joyful, ironic sense of humor, but one of the most infectious laughs you can imagine. You know how the languages of this part of the world have a very phlegmatic sound that comes from the back of the throat (think CHHHHUTZPAH)? Well, the Bishop's laugh is that very sound repeated in staccato bursts, sort of like this “Chz-chz-chz-chz-chz-chz-chz.” You can't hear that and not want to laugh yourself.
Sunday April 6—Worship and Reflection
Morning worship was wonderful. I kept thinking, “I'm a Christian worshiping for the first time in my life in Jerusalem!” What made it all the more wonderful was that I was with people who personify what genuine discipleship is all about—and people I know and have a relationship with. Officiating were Mark Holman (the pastor of Lutheran Church of the Redeemer), our dear Mark Nelson (tour leader and driving force behind this trip), and, finally, Bishop Younan himself. We did the standard Lutheran liturgy, which I love 1000% more than casual 20th century-ish “contemporary” formats (but that's just me).
It was nice to see all the hymnals we brought from Minnesota piled up in the chancel, waiting to be dedicated and put into use.
After church, we all schmoozed a bit in the incredibly beautiful second-floor vestibules surrounding LCR's courtyard (again, the pictures I'll upload will speak decibels louder than words), and then had lunch at a place in West Jerusalem called Arcaffe.
Yad Vashem
After lunch we went to the Holocaust Museum called Yad Vashem. As you would expect, the exhibits were very moving, and left you pondering how man could be so inhumane to man. Of course, seeing Yad Vashem only one day after walking the ghettos of Hebron forced me to reckon with an uncomfortable irony.
The government of Israel is doing today what the Nazis did to the Jews a little over a half century ago. The irony was painful as I went from exhibit to exhibit to exhibit. The methodology is identical: First you begin taking away peoples' rights to move freely unless they have permits or papers, then you begin rounding people up into isolated ghettos. Then you begin denying them essential human rights, and it only gets worse from there.
I know what a ghetto in Poland looked like because I was in one yesterday in Hebron. I was in a police state, under marshal law. I saw soldiers march through areas of commerce brandishing weapons with the sole intention to intimidate. I myself had to go through checkpoints where I had to show my papers, empty my pockets, and submit in humiliation to armed oppressors.
In 60 short years, the bullied have become the bullies. The oppressed have become the oppressors.
They say that children raised in dysfunctional homes who are beaten and abused grow up and find themselves—against their will and not even knowing why—beating up and abusing their own children.
Most ironic of all: This extremely expensive museum in Israel put here in good faith and with the best of humanitarian interests now serves as perhaps one of the most stinging indictments against Israel.
The take-home message: No one people is genetically predisposed to be cruel tyrants. The Germans did it in the 1940s. The Israelis are doing it now. The Huns did it at another time. Inside each one of us is a potential tyrant waiting to be born. This only helps me to see better what Jesus meant when He came to say that the enemy is not other people or nations. The enemy is that ugly yet seductive voice inside of you that urges you to serve yourself (please yourself, indulge yourself) even if it's on the backs of others.
This is the enemy that needs to be defeated before any true peace can prevail.
Tomorrow we go to Bethlehem.
'Til then, Grace & peace, Evan
2 comments:
It is stunning to see gullible Americans who cannot understand the moral gulf that exists between the Israelis and the "Palestinians". I suspect there were no visits to Arab schools where children are taught a virulent hatred that did not even exist in the classrooms of the Reich. Or talks with "Palestinian" moderates - oh, that's right, they're all dead.
James, when you put the name of an entire people in quotation marks as if they don't "really" exist, you tip your hand as to your own preconceived prejudices and gullibility. You dehumanize a people. Have you honestly spent time in the West Bank with the so-called "people" there? Or do you "know everything" you need to know from the mainstream Western media? As for the good Arab leaders who are dead: you are absolutely correct. So many moderate and peace-seeking Arab leaders have been systematically hunted down and killed by Israeli task forces equipped by greedy, conscienceless American weapons contractors. They are collective experts in maintaining empire by any means necessary. Eventually karma will take care of that. Every empire in history has proved that in spades. YOU are the embodiment of gullibility. Unfortunately, both Israel and the US will suffer for such arrogant, deliberate, short-sighted blindness.
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