Lent 3, John - Walking a Divided Land

John 4.5-42

But he had to go through Samaria. (John 4.4)

Jesus’ journey takes him through a land divided, by tradition and religion—like riding on the bus, past a Palestinian village on the right, an Israeli town on the hill above; or an Israeli “archaeological site with its ruins of a destroyed Arab town; or a Bedouin camp in the valley below an Israeli settlement.

Last May, as I rode the bus south toward the Israeli town of Sderot on the border with Gaza, I felt anxious, journeying toward the land of the “other”—an Israeli community located right on Israel’s border with Gaza, a place constantly under threat of attack by rockets launched from Gaza. It was these rocket attacks that Israel cited as the reason for its invasion of Gaza in December-January 2009-10. Although I knew we were meeting with a group of Israeli women who are working for peace, building bridges with their Gazan neighbors, my anger over Israel’s attack on Gaza and the horrible destruction of the towns and the deaths of so many civilians was stuck in my throat.

The women we were going to meet had moved their families to this land, which had once been home to both Palestinians and Jews, living side by side. They had come to this dry place to settle and claim the land for Israel. Even though I knew that they were working for peace, I knew that their presence was a source of the friction between Jews and Palestinians.

The bus pulled into the parking lot at Netiv-haAsara, a moshav, with a communal lifestyle similar to a kibbutz, but the agricultural lands are individually owned. It was planned as a buffer between Israel and the Gaza Strip, established in 1982 after Israel’s withdrawal from the Sinai and its peace agreement with Egypt. People are still moving here and the Jewish Agency provides each family with a small piece of land.

As I sat in the moshav’s community room, I learned that Roni does not want to be an obstacle to peace. She described their life here ten years ago, when Palestinians from nearby Beit Hanoun and Beit Lahiya came across the border each day to work the land of the moshav. These Israeli and Palestinian farmers got to know one another, visited with one another and celebrated weddings and other social events together. She said their lives have been “undermined by the military on both sides.” Photo: Roni and Julia in Netiv-haAsara, taken by Ellen Greene

In 2005, on the day after Israel withdrew from the Gaza Strip, removing its settlements, a rocket fired from Gaza killed a girl in Netiv-haAsara. Since then they have lived under constant threat of the rockets. Just because the rockets are homemade and rarely hit anything but a field, the threat of death is always present. When the siren sounds, everyone knows they have minutes to run to the shelters.

Julia is a social psychologist who teaches at the college near Sderot, 2 k from Gaza. Two years ago a student was killed in the parking lot by a rocket, while other students watched. The worst effect is psychological—75-80% of the people in the region have PTSD. These two women described their work to build bridges with their Palestinian neighbors—Products for Peace, which sells things like Palestinian soap with an Israeli-crafted soap dish. http://www.nisped.org.il/

Roni moved here from Britain, Julia from the US. Both came as young adults, full of hope and the promise of Israel. Julia said she once believed that Israel wanted peace, that the land was empty and that “the Arabs hated us.” Those hopes and visions have been shattered for both women as they have learned about Israel’s history and gotten to know their Palestinian neighbors.

Now they are busy planning seminars to build understanding. Julia told us she was opposed to the war on Gaza and opposes the building of the wall. She has called for an end to the blockade Israel has imposed on Gaza. One of the women in their group went to Ashdod to protest the killing of the nine people on the humanitarian aid ship Mavi Marmara, which happened a few days before we met. The woman was threatened by her neighbors, who told her to apologize for participating in the protest or leave the moshav. But Roni and Julia told us, “we don’t give up because there is no other way.” They want Jewish Americans to realize that Jews need to acknowledge the Armenian genocide and the Palestinian occupation; there need to be joint ceremonies so that these events are not forgotten, so that the people can change the future. “I don’t have to compare [the holocaust and the occupation]…I cannot, because we know what this is doing to us as a people….” She finds it easier to dialogue with Palestinians than with people in her own community. “We cannot solve this militarily; we need something different…both people are entitled to a land and a life, a right not to be bombed.”

I couldn’t agree more.

God of all being, you walked our roads and drank from our wells. You listened to our squabbles over land and our arguments about how to worship you. And you dared speak to the “other,” bringing healing and peace to a divided community. We pray that you continue your creative work, forming us in your image. Amen.


[Note: Sychar….Jacob’s Well. Sychar is commonly thought to be the ancient city of Shechem, today identified with the archaeological site of Tel Balata, on a small knoll (Shechem means “shoulder” or “high place”) near the city of Nablus in the West Bank. The site today is in the Balata Refugee Camp. To read more about Balata today, see Anna Baltzer’s beautiful photographs and stories in her book, Witness in Palestine.) Jacob’s Well is at the entrance to Balata Camp. In the Orthodox tradition, the feast day of Plotine, the name given to the unnamed woman of Samaria, is celebrated, on March 20.]

Lent 3, Romans - Boasting in our Suffering?

Romans 5.1-11

…but we also boast in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint us, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us. (Rom 5.3-5)

We rarely choose suffering….unless we have something to gain, like winning a marathon. Suffering simply comes to us, unbidden and often unannounced. Like the earthquake and tsunami and nuclear emergency. Suffering is part of life. It cannot be avoided. All we can do is make the best of it. Paul’s words are not idle speculation; Paul knew suffering.

In the Middle East there are many people who know suffering. Arrest, interrogation, torture, suicide bombers, house demolitions, corrupt government officials…the suffering goes on and on. The question is, What do we do with our suffering? Does it produce endurance, character and hope? Or bitterness, misery and retaliation?

When I first went to the Holy Land, I expected to see a lot of misery, encounter a lot of bitterness. But then I met Angie. A student at Bethlehem University, she was our guide while we were in Bethlehem—setting up the gardening and painting projects we did at the Lutheran school. She told me she had applied for a permit to go to Jerusalem for Holy Week, but was denied.

It’s the custom for Christians in the Holy Land to walk the road Jesus walked, down the Mount of Olives into Jerusalem, waving palm branches and singing. She said that since she was a student at a university where student groups engaged in mass demonstrations against Israel’s occupation, she was deemed a security risk, even though she did not belong to any of these student groups. There was no appeal, no process for proving that she was not a threat. The permit was simply denied, along with most of the rest of the Christians in Bethlehem. And it has only gotten worse. Last year, virtually no permits were issued for Holy Week travel. Photo: protesters who were denied permits for Palm Sunday try to push past the wall at the Bethlehem checkpoint, 2010.

Then Angie told me that she didn’t hate Israelis. She didn’t blame them for her virtual imprisonment behind the walls surrounding Bethlehem. She said she just wanted the occupation to end so that she could go abroad to study…and to Jerusalem for Holy Week.

I thought at the time, “How can this be?” And I realized I was witnessing something miraculous. That’s when I knew I had to tell her story and invite others to “come and see” for themselves. Because Angie is not the only Palestinian I met who carries no hatred for Jews or Israelis—I’ve seen it everywhere in Palestine, this miracle of forgiveness shared by Muslims and Christians.

I think this is what Paul meant. Living behind the 25-foot-high wall, not being allowed to leave Bethlehem….it takes endurance to stay there and not move to your brother’s in Texas—away from the soldiers and the threat of bulldozers. It takes endurance to raise your children knowing they may not be able to go to university abroad to become a doctor. Endurance means not giving up on your future. And somehow, miraculously, hope is born out of the despair. This year Angie is in Wisconsin, working on her masters degree so she can go back to Bethlehem, equipped to be a leader in the new Palestine.

God of unimaginable possibilities, you have created your people with a great diversity of talents and gifts. We are grateful for the opportunities we have been given to use our gifts to bring healing and hope in your world. Amen.

Lent 3, Exodus - Resistance

Exodus 17.1-7
“I will be standing there in front of you.” (Ex 17.6)

This story about Moses and the Israelites’ journey to the “promised land” makes difficult reading this week after five members of one family were murdered in an Israeli settlement in the West Bank. Those who discovered the murders describe a horrific and bloody scene. The settlement is called Itamar.

Jewish Zionists build towns in Palestinian areas because these are sites mentioned in the bible—places the Hebrew people settled after fleeing slavery in Egypt. Today’s residents of Itamar settled here in 1984, deep in the heart of the Palestinian West Bank, near Nablus (First map shows Itamar and how settlements are encroaching on Arab towns). They named their town after Moses’ brother Aaron’s youngest son, who, tradition holds, was buried near here. The town was settled by Orthodox Jews, on land belonging to the Palestinian town of Awarta, taking half of Awarta’s lands to build their settlement, according to Awarta residents .

Second map shows Itamar and Awarta in the larger area of the central West Bank, from Jerusalem north to Nablus: Palestinian areas shaded in brown; Israeli settlements shaded in blue. Itamar and Awarta are in upper center.
Before any investigation, the IDF characterized the attacks in a headline: “Five Family Members Murdered in Itamar Terror Attack.” Haaretz described the Israeli response: “Extensive police forces and Israel Defense Forces are scanning the area for the suspect.” It’s what we would expect—an investigation into the murders, right?

In the US, we heard about the killings, but not much about the Israeli soldiers who descended on Awarta, made everyone go outside, beat the men of the village, and arrested 12 of them, between the ages of 15 and 40 (see AIC News). The soldiers camped out in villagers’ homes for five days. Swedish volunteers with the International Solidarity Movement, describe what they witnessed in the days following the murders—IDF soldiers smashing furniture, polluting drinking water, pouring liquids on computers (http://palsolidarity.org/2011/03/17061/)

We also did not hear much about the dozen settlers who retaliated by marching into Awarta, throwing stones and bottles at Palestinian homes. Or how the Israeli military intervened when the villagers tried to defend themselves (http://www.maannews.net/eng/ViewDetails.aspx?ID=368642). Or about the two young cousins, 18 and 19, who were killed in March, 2010, shot at close range by Israeli soldiers. And the long history of settlers harassing Palestinians as they harvest their olives in the fall. It goes on and on.

The road to freedom for Moses and his people had not been easy. Thirst, food shortages and other hardships of travel made everyone testy and quarrelsome. Their leader, who was so sure of himself when they fled Egypt, had run out of ideas. In the barren, dry desert, not knowing where to turn, in desperation, he “cried out to the Lord.” The Lord’s answer? “Go ahead of the people…I will be standing there in front of you.”

God had not abandoned them. Just as in the pillar of fire, God continued to go ahead of them, showing them the way, providing what was necessary for life.

This is how the Palestinians survive—they stay in Awarta and other West Bank towns, trusting that God will provide what they need to remain in their homes, farming their lands, picking their olives, selling vegetables…..resisting Israeli efforts to drive them away.

God of freedom-seekers, you call your people out of bondage and lead them to places of new life, to springs of fresh water. Open our hearts to the needs of those who are imprisoned, longing for freedom and an end to their oppression. Help us find ways to join in your liberating work. Amen.

Lent 2, John - Born Again

John 3.1-17

‘Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher who has come from God; for no one can do these signs that you do apart from the presence of God.’ (John 3.2)

The first time I went to Israel and Palestine, I expected to see some questionable sites of Jesus ministry, do some “good works” at the Lutheran school in Bethlehem and be depressed about the conditions Palestinians are forced to live under. I expected to feel sorry for the Palestinians, their every move controlled by Israel. If the peace negotiators had not been able to achieve an agreement, I expected there was nothing I could do.

But the people I met had different plans for me.

Their puzzling hospitality invited me into their shops and homes. The Palestinians I met know that they are prisoners in their own homes because my tax dollars provision the Israeli army. They know that American corporations manufacture the weapons of their oppression—Caterpillar bulldozers that knock down their homes and uproot their olive trees to build the wall, M-16s that are aimed at them at every checkpoint, F-16s flying low overhead and shooting to blow up their homes and schools, security cameras and computer systems enable soldiers to control and humiliate them at checkpoints.

Knowing that without my tax support Israel could not continue its occupation of their land, how could they welcome me into their homes and serve me tea and cakes? This hospitality is who they are. They have never blamed me for their impossible lives. And they have not given up.

Their faith in me to change their situation challenged me. When I asked what I could to to help change their

oppression, they told me, “Tell our stories. Surely if Americans knew how we are suffering, things will change.” I felt powerless. What could I do? I have no influence with my government. Yes it’s my tax dollars, but what can I do?

As I get to know them and see the work they are doing to build up their community, performing miracles of transformation, turning their prison into a healthy place for children to grow up, I feel like Nicodemus. His declaration to Jesus showed that he saw God’s hand in the healing work Jesus was doing. Like Nicodemus, I, too, have seen the power of God’s healing promises. I have seen people imprisoned behind a 25-foot wall being transformed by the new life they have received in Christ Jesus. I have seen God’s promise of abundant life being fulfilled in the work of these faithful Christians, as they create the Bright Stars after-school programs—music and dance, art and sports—for the children of Bethlehem. I have seen God’s miracles of transformation as I watch Muslim and Christian children learning about each others’ cultures and religions and practicing tolerance and peacemaking at Dar al-Kalima school. I have seen how these Christians, trusting in God’s promise of salvation, have been freed to live their lives AS IF the wall did not exist, to build a college in Bethlehem so that when there is peace, there will be young people equipped to lead a new Palestine.

I did not expect to be hooked by these people, but in Bethlehem I have seen miracles of healing and I have experienced a miracle of forgiveness, a hospitality as radical as Jesus’ words to Nicodemus: “You must be born from above.” Trusting God’s promises that their occupation will not be the last word, the people of Bethlehem have been given new life...and a future for their children. ˆ

Photo: Art Resists the Wall, Bethlehem

God of Abraham, you have promised eternal life for all who trust in your promises. Help us, who have been baptized into new life, to be instruments in your work of salvation in a world where people are perishing. Amen.

Lent 2, Romans - Abraham's Heirs

Romans 4.1-5, 13-17

“For he is the father of all of us, it is written, ‘I have made you the father of many nations’....” (Rom 4.17)

Standing on the Temple Mount in Jerusalem’s Old City....Nowhere in the Holy Land is our common ancestry more evident—Muslims, Jews and Christians. We are sisters, brothers, cousins. We share each other’s holy places, revere the same stones.

After passing through the security checkpoint and opening our backpacks for Israeli soldiers in olive green uniforms so they can check to make sure we have not brought any bombs and weapons, we walk with the other pilgrims up the ramp to the park at the top of the Temple Mount (the Jewish name), or Haram al-Sharif (the Muslim name). On the square atop this tiny piece of land that has sometimes sparked warfare, we stand next to the Dome of the Rock, the mosque built on this hilltop where Mohammad is believed to have ascended to heaven. If we walk to one side and look over the edge, we see men and women swaying in prayer while reading the torah at the Western Wall; they come to the place where the largest stones we can see in the ancient wall are remnants of wall of Herod’s Temple; it is considered the gate of heaven. Walking to the opposite side of the Mount, we look out over the Mount of Olives and the Christian churches built on the hill, commemorating Jesus’ time on the Mount of Olives, praying in the Garden of Gethsemane, weeping over Jerusalem, riding the donkey down the road and then up the hill to Jerusalem, with crowds shouting “Hosanna!” Photo: praying at the Western Wall.

One tiny space.....three stories of humanity’s search to know their creator.

As Paul points out, God had a plan when God covenanted with Abraham. God did not intend that the covenant would stop with Abraham. God’s plan was much bigger than Abraham. He was only the beginning, blessed “to be a blessing.” God did not make Abraham the father only of the Jewish people. Paul reminds the Romans that God’s promise included them too—God made Abraham the father of Israel, but also the father of “many nations.” (Gen 17.4)

So, this week, when we read of a family of Jewish settlers being killed in the West Bank, how can we trust God’s promises? When we hear of Arab villagers begin held under curfew and Israeli settlers attacking Palestinians to retaliate for murders that have not yet been solved, how can we believe that God truly is the father of the nations?

God’s promises seem far away.

But the people of Bethlehem, a short drive from this scene, do trust these promises. In a land where tomorrow is uncertain, the people of Bethlehem are building a college to educate the young people of Palestine, who cannot often get the permits to travel abroad for school. The first building of Dar al-Kalima College was dedicated in November, 2010. With the first classes offered in 2006, they have now graduated three classes of students in their two-year accredited programs in arts, multimedia, tourism and communications.

I look at what is happening and find it difficult to trust that God will bring something new out of the destruction, but for these people living under Israel’s occupation, facing eviction notices and unable to travel or visit family, God’s promises are enough.....for the building of a college! Photo: dedication of the college, Nov, 2010.

God of Abraham, we praise you for your unfailing promises to your heirs. Help those of us who live in relative comfort, to trust in your good intentions for your creation. Give us courage to partner with you in your new creation. Amen.