This Haaretz article is well worth reading. I encourage you to take a look at what this Israeli Jew has discovered about the lives of Palestinians here, and why she simply cannot remain quiet about it.
http://www.haaretz.com/hasen/spages/1150824.html
Monday, February 22, 2010
Saturday, January 30, 2010
You've Got to Be Taught
On more than one occasion here, I have been reminded of the simple, yet powerful lyrics from one of my favorite songs from the Rodgers and Hammerstein musical, South Pacific: “You’ve Got to Be Carefully Taught.” An angry Lieutenant Cable, with dawning realization of his own limiting prejudices, says, “it's not something you're born with,” and sings, “You’ve got to be taught to hate and fear…It’s got to be drummed in your dear little ear. You’ve got to be carefully taught.” He goes on, “You’ve got to be taught before it’s too late- before you are six or seven or eight—to hate all the people your relatives hate. You’ve got to be carefully taught!”
For those of you who haven’t seen the show, it’s underlying exploration of racism and prejudice in the plot is quite surprising, given its 1949 date. I think Cable’s song contains something crucial to remember, especially in conflict areas such as Israel-Palestine, where wounds run deep, and memory longer. There is no natural, inherent enmity between groups of people; Jewish children do not come out of the womb fearing Arabs anymore than Palestinian children do feeling anger and hatred towards Israelis. What is true is the sponge-like nature of children and the way they absorb ideas, opinions, and emotions from those around them, particularly from parents, elders and teachers.
When I look at my kindergartners at school, I marvel at their innocence. They do not care that I look different from their other teachers, or that I talk differently (though sometimes they giggle), or that I am from a strange place called America. They love me anyway and are perfectly content to hold my hand, play with me during free time, or talk to me earnestly as if I understood every word they said. Sometimes I think I’d like to freeze them in this moment of simple innocence. My kindergarteners are so very different from one student in the fifth grade who likes to use art class as an opportunity to quiz me about political ideas that he scarcely understands. Do I like Obama or George Bush? Do I love Arabs? Israelis? I attempt to tell him that I try to love all people even if I may not always like everything they do, and I hope he is starting to understand. It is likely that he is repeating things that he has heard from adults, taking on those perceptions and concepts as his own. You have to be carefully taught…but are you being taught in a way that will perpetuate conflict indefinitely, or in a way that leads to a society directed towards peace?
I remember a truly wonderful moment this Fall when a sixth grade girl, a Muslim, said to me in a combination of Arabic, English, and excited hand gestures: “I don’t think it’s good, Muslims over here and Christians over here (pointing in opposite directions). I am a Muslim (indicating herself) and you are a Christian (indicating me), and we love each other!” In a culture where people are often divided by racial and religious lines, where children are sometimes taught fear and hatred of the Other, this thirteen-year-old had the wisdom to recognize this beautiful idea: We are different, but we can love each other anyway. She is being carefully taught—but not hate and fear; instead acceptance and love.
While Lieutenant Cable’s song seems to be filled with anger, frustration, and negativity, I guess I can’t help but seek the hidden positive message buried in all the cynicism. It isn’t something you’re born with! Which means that change is possible; it all depends on what we teach and how we allow ourselves to be taught. It sounds idealistic, and well, it is. And I have to say, I think a dash of idealism could do the world some good.
Dear Lord, Please allow me to be carefully taught the way of love and understanding. Please guide all of us, especially parents, teachers, and mentors of children, to be careful of what we teach others through our words and actions. Inshallah, let us plant seeds that will grow into a future of peace and reconciliation in this and all places.
I will learn a song that imparts wisdom; I will then sing my insightful song to the accompaniment of a harp. Psalm 49:4
Monday, January 18, 2010
Merry Christmas!
In those days a decree went out from Emperor Augustus that all the world should be registered. This was the first registration and was taken while Quirinius was governor of Syria. All went to their own towns to be registered. Joseph also went from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to the city of David called Bethlehem, because he was descended from the house and family of David. He went to be registered with Mary, to whom he was engaged and who was expecting a child. While they were there, the time came for her to deliver her child. And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in bands of cloth, and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn. Luke 2:1-7
“But Mary Margaret, isn’t it a bit late for a Christmas post?”
And now it’s my turn to surprise you and say, “Absolutely not, because here in Jerusalem, TODAY is also Christmas. Armenian Orthodox Christmas, to be precise. And for another little surprise- this is the third Christmas we’ve had, because January 6th was also Christmas- Orthodox Christmas.”
So now that I’ve proven I am well within the Christmas season in writing this post, I want to tell you a bit about my Christmas this year, which I spent in a place I never even considered I could possibly spend this special day—in the place where the faith of Christians was quite literally born—Bethlehem.
I’ve ridden the bus into Bethlehem time and again, but December 24, Christmas Eve, was different. The bus filled up quickly with a combination of Palestinians going about their normal routines, local Palestinian Christians heading to Bethlehem to celebrate the holiday, and other pilgrims like myself. The energy was cheerful as we smiled at one another, and struck up the odd conversation among passengers. The girl sitting next to me was traveling alone for just a couple weeks, and when she found out that I had been here for four months, she began pumping me for information. A friend of mine from church climbed onto the bus along with a friend of his who was visiting. It turned out that neither my seat-mate nor my friend knew the route from the bus-stop to Manger Square, where the Church of the Nativity is, so when we climbed off the bus, I became the leader of my own little parade of pilgrims.
How appropriate, because a block from Manger Square we ran right into the annual Christmas parade done by the local scout troupes. Line after line of brilliantly colored flags, children of all ages proudly wearing their scout uniforms, the thrilling blasts of bagpipes, and the infectious rhythm of the drums. I stood up on a star-shaped fountain to get a better view, while the music echoed off the white Jerusalem stone, and vibrated through my own body.
As the end of the parade snaked by us, and the drumbeats faded, I headed straight into Manger Square to meet up with Rachel and Greta. We made a necessary visit to the Church of the Nativity, the traditional site of Christ’s birth, but soon slipped out of the dim, incense filled nave back into the cool, bright afternoon. Walking down another Old City street, we got caught up in the parade a second time, and so found ourselves running late to catch a taxi to Beit Jala. In Beit Jala, at the home of our country coordinator’s, Martin and Suzanne, we shared Christmas Eve dinner, and swapped Secret Santa gifts with the other YAGM. In an effort to bring a little bit of home (and the South) to the Holy Lands, I made my Mamoo’s sweet potato soufflé. While I was missing my family and our traditions, it was such a blessing to spend time with our wonderful team here for the holidays.
Directly after dinner we headed back into Bethlehem to attend a joint Arabic-English-German worship service at Christmas Lutheran Church. I really love these combined services; while it seems disorienting at first with everyone singing hymns and saying prayers simultaneously in their own language, it’s this simultaneous expression of faith that is so compelling. It’s hard to describe how I felt as the stained glass windows of the church slowly darkened, and we passed around small flickering flames from candle to candle until the church was full of dancing light. I was grateful and happy to be where I was, among friends, celebrating the birth of the Savior, singing, and rejoicing.
The rest of the evening was spontaneous and exciting for me, made so partly by the childlike wonder I felt from standing under that same night sky in which the Angel appeared to the shepherds and from which shone the brilliant star that guided the Magi. We went from standing in Manger Square watching choirs perform, to eating delicious hummous and falafel in a little cave off the Square, to attempting to visit the Milk Grotto chapel (which ended up being closed, but this didn’t seem to dampen anyone’s spirits). As midnight drew closer, we decided to make a visit to the Shepherd’s Fields in Beit Sahour and headed down the hill away from Bethlehem. This first attempt was thwarted by a procession coming from the Shepherd’s Fields that was heading back up the hill. The torches, drums, and strumming of guitars proved to be too enticing, so we joined in for a while, walking along with them. Though we never quite figured out who this varied group of internationals actually were, they didn’t seem to mind our procession-crashing, and after deciding we didn’t want to go all the way back up the hill (trust me, those shepherds had a hike!) we said goodbye and left them to go on their way.
Once again we headed back down the hill in the direction of the Shepherd’s Fields, only this time we were stopped by a voice from above. Not an angel, no, but a little lady on a balcony, shouting, “Merry Christmas! Come up and drink tea with me! Please- I ask you from my heart! Come and drink tea with me.” And we did. At midnight on Christmas we experienced the joy of the hospitality of a total stranger and enjoyed tea with this very kind woman.
After saying thank you and goodbye to our Christmas angel, we headed once again towards the Shepherd’s Fields. Third time’s the charm, and this time we finally made it. Unlike Manger Square, the Fields were quiet and peaceful with few people milling around- the perfect place for us to stand together and hear the Christmas story read from the Gospels of Matthew and Luke.
It was now the early hours of Christmas morning as we walked through the silent streets of Beit Sahour, and I knew that this Christmas was solitary and unique from Christmases past and those yet to come. I pray that I can capture this memory and feeling in my heart and mind, and think of it each year as I hear those words read about Bethlehem, about the shepherds, about hope, and peace. And I pray that in some way you could also feel along with me the joy of Christmas in Bethlehem—of drums and pipes, flickering candles, tea with a stranger, and the vastness and wonder of the open night sky.
Merry Christmas and many blessings for the New Year!
Thursday, January 14, 2010
Shutting Doors
What does it mean for a society when the kinds of people you are detaining and deporting are journalists and volunteers of the church? This is a BBC article about two people in the international community here that I know, respect, and care about.
Please pray for their safety, their peace of mind, and a positive conclusion to all of this.
Monday, December 21, 2009
A Moment of Truth
"They say peace, peace, when there is no peace."
Jeremiah 6:14
Peace on earth. Goodwill to men.
In the past four months since coming here, I have talked and thought about the concept of peace more than ever before in my life. Really, everyone here talks about peace, and strikingly often in tired tones, wistful, doubtful. "We have no peace here...There will never be peace here...Maybe one day we'll have peace, inshallah." We contemplate and talk about peace a lot, but as a wise person reminded us when we first arrived in Palestine: "'peace' is a cheap word."
Consider then the Christmas message to the shepherds that reaches through the centuries to our ears as well: Peace on earth! I find myself within an interesting paradox this Christmas-never have I been in a place where I felt closer to the reality of that holy child in the manger. This year I followed in the footsteps of millions of pilgrims before me who have found their way to that Little Town of Bethlehem to celebrate the Word made flesh. I didn't follow a star, though, I just took the No. 21 Bus from Jerusalem. In quite the opposite way, though, never before have I been in a place that made me question the verity and possibility of the Angel's proclamation more. While visiting Beit Sahour, the traditional site of the Annunciation to the Shepherds, perhaps I should have found a field to stand in, and challenged the Angel, shouting, "Really? Well, where is it? I don't see it here!"
Advent is traditionally considered a season of waiting and expectancy in the church, but last week I was reminded that the church is instructed and empowered to do much more than simply wait for Christmas, wait for the return of Christ, and wait for peace on earth. On Friday, December 11 I had the opportunity and privilege to witness the signing of the Kairos Palestine document, entitled "A Moment of Truth: A word of faith, hope and love from the heart of Palestinian suffering." Kairos is a greek word meaning "the right or opportune moment," and this document is similar in nature to the Christian theological statement issued in 1985 by theologians in South Africa under the oppressive apartheid regime. Steeped in liberation theology (check out Sabeel http://sabeel.org/ for more on this) the document speaks from the perspective of the Christian faith to Palestinians, Israelis, and internationals alike. In the document, the church takes a stand against the occupation, calling it a sin, and stressing the inclusivity and universality of God's promises for ALL people. Challenging the claim that the land is only for one group of people, and rejecting the use of the Bible to "legitimize or support political options and positions that are based upon injustice, imposed by one person on another, or by one people on another" the Kairos Document is striking in its response to Jewish and Christian Zionism, and the systematic oppression of the Palestinian people.
I strongly encourage everyone to try and find time to read the Kairos document (http://www.oikoumene.org/fileadmin/files/wcc-main/2009pdfs/Kairos%20Palestine_En.pdf)
Listen to the voices of our brothers and sisters in Christ in Palestine who believe that the peace on earth announced by the angels is "Good News" for them, too. I believe the document speaks directly to a belief that I hold close to my heart: that the gifts and promises of God are not the exclusive right of one group-Muslim, Jew, Christian, or any other. And though, I may not see peace right now, especially in this troubled place, the Kairos Document echoes my own feelings about hope: "our hope remains strong, because it is from God." Without Him as the source of hope, I believe Christians in this region would have given up long ago on this conflict, but they remain, strong and faithful, because He who has promised is faithful.
Right now especially, as we remember the one-year anniversary of the Israeli military invasion of the Gaza strip, which left 1400 Palestinians (including over 300 children), and 13 Israelis dead, and while the blockade of Gaza continues, I need to cling to the hope and promise found in the holy child in the manger. I'm believing, as hard as I can, that: "The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it." -John 1:5
Peace on earth. Goodwill toward men.
Amen.
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
Please Act for Gaza!
All I want for Christmas....
Is for you to send a letter or email to your congressional representatives today and ask them to sign the McDermott-Ellison letter on Gaza to President Obama. Please visit the Churches for Middle East Peace website at http://www.cmep.org/ to easily and quickly send word to your representatives supporting this letter. Gaza is effectively cut off and isolated at this point, unable to even rebuild homes destroyed in the war that happened this time last year. The hopelessness that is growing within the people of Gaza, who are essentially trapped in a large prison, unable to obtain jobs or even basic necessities for living, does little to improve the prospect of peace and security for Palestinians or Israelis in the region. The restrictions on movement of goods and people in and out of Gaza are counterproductive to peace in the Middle East, so please, please, write your representative and tell them that you support peace and justice!
And while you're at it, consider urging your representative to sign the Moran/Inglis "Dear Colleague" Letter to Support Higher Education Opportunities for Gazan Students in the West Bank. The case of Berlanty Azzam, has recently drawn attention to this issue. She is a Palestinian Christian from Gaza that the Israeli authorities forcibly deported to Gaza two months before she was due to complete her degree at Bethlehem University. Please support Gazan and West Bank students who simply want to be allowed to study at universities and in degree programs that will help them advance themselves. They are being permitted by harsh and restrictive policies that prevent them from traveling between the West Bank and Gaza, and I believe these policies should be challenged.
Thank you! Salaam and Love!
Thursday, November 26, 2009
Happy Thanksgiving!
Yes, I know I'm a bit late for this message, but I'm in favor of thanksgiving all year long! This is turning out to be quite a busy Advent season, but don't worry, the Christmas update won't be two weeks, late, inshallah.
I included in this post a picture of what we worked on in school a few weeks ago, and what inspired me to write this post. We made sheep (خروف) for the Eid al Adha feast that was celebrated by Muslims worldwide a few weeks ago, when people from the US were celebrating the holiday of Thanksgiving. Most of my students are Muslim, as well as the teachers that I work with, and so I am learning a great deal more about a religion that I had only a rudimentary understanding of before. The name of the holiday means "Festival of Sacrifice" and it is a commemoration of Abraham's obedience to God, and his willingness to sacrifice his son Ishmael, in order that he might follow God's command. In Muslim, Jewish, and Christian holy texts, Abraham leaves his son Ishmael in the wilderness with his mother, Hagar, but God rescues and preserves them, promising that He will make a great nation of Ishmael (Genesis 21). As a symbol of Abraham's sacrifice, families that can afford to do so commonly sacrifice a sheep, goat, cow, or camel to celebrate the Eid.
I was fascinated to learn about this holiday, because of the parallel story we find in the scripture about Abraham's near sacrifice of his son Isaac (Genesis 22). The story is quite important in Christian theology, as Christians have long paralleled the story of Isaac to that of Christ, where the Father does ultimately sacrifice the Son. The interconnectedness and intertwining between the faith stories of different religions here is one of the most interesting things about living in a place where you constantly seem to be celebrating one holiday or another. I really enjoyed making sheep in school, and as more and more of them amassed in the art classroom, I found that I couldn't help but ponder this little flock that we had made. Inside each toilet-paper tube was the name of a student, so effectively each little sheep represented one of my students- children of God that I have especially been called to love and care for during this year of service. I am then reminded of the words of Jesus, "Feed my flock," which reminds me that it isn't MY flock at all- it's His. And while sometimes I feel like a shepherd of children here, more often I feel like just another sheep in the flock- sometimes huddling close to the other sheep, sometimes straying and wandering off alone. I suppose there are really two parts to what I've been thinking about regarding sheep; one is that we are all God's sheep, and we can joyfully give thanks that as the Good Shepherd, He is constantly watching over us and gathering us in. The other is that we share in a responsibility to our fellow sheep; in other words, God places in our lives our own little flocks to love and tend to. During this holiday season (and always), may we thank Him for the care He gives us as members of His flock, and may we recognize and faithfully serve those little flocks He's placed in our lives.
Enter his gates with thanksgiving, and his courts with praise! Give him thanks! Praise his name!
-Psalm 100:4
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