Holy Land Holy People Day 4

Holy Land Holy People Day 4

John 1:5 

The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.

By sheer chance, I was born into a white, Christian, upper-middle class, American story. At the age of 20, I am a student, a traveler, a sister,  a daughter, and a friend. I live an entirely average life made up of relative peace and nothing more daunting than an occasional string of first-world problems. If however, chance had placed me in another country of this expansive creation,  my story would be vastly different. 

If I were born an Israeli Jew, I would now be serving my second year in the military. Day after day, I would stand at military bases and watch my holy neighbors through the sight of a gun. I would stand at checkpoints and intimidate Palestinians, Muslims and Christians alike. I would eat dinner with the settlers and blindly carry out the orders given by my commander. I would be proud of myself and proud of my country. And, my story would affirm that I was right for my actions--that I was working for the greater good of my people, and that I was upholding the will of God. 

If I were born a Palestinian I would now be experiencing my 20th year of occupation. My sight and experience of the world would be blocked by a 25 foot wall, topped with barbed wire. I would be separated from my family. Israeli soldiers would stand in my neighborhood, “protecting” themselves from me as I innocently walk to school with my friends. I would be stopped at checkpoints. My classrooms would be constantly bombed with tear gas.  I would live in constant fear of arrest, even if I were a non-violent activist. 

Before leaving the charlotte airport, we were asked to draw from a bag of “dead” stones, each inscribed with a word that encompassed a task. Throughout the week, we are supposed to be looking for people and actions that represent our chosen word as we work to live into its meaning. My stone read “peacemaker,” and I was challenged to identify living stones in the holy land, pillars of peace who act in Palestine. Today, on our visit to Hebron, I learned the full force, the undeniable power, of a peacemaker. 

Hebron is a predominately Muslim village in the West Bank. In a population of approximately 170,000 people, only 700 are Jewish settlers, and yet, Israelis have complete control. In the past year, over 1,000 Palestinians have left Hebron because of occupation and the danger it brings. This means that over a thousand of Hebron’s shops have closed, leaving 70% of Hebron’s Palestinian occupation unemployed. As we toured the Holy City, we were greeted by an empty street that once bustled with the liveliness of a Palestinian market. We were welcomed by locked-up shops and broken windows. We were surrounded by deafening silence. Still, Israeli soldiers strode through the streets, guns loaded. 

In this desolate setting, however, I saw and felt the persevering hope of Palestinians and their allies. We began the day with a meeting with the Christian Peacemaker Teams, a grassroots organization in Palestine that provides support and assistance to non-violent demonstrations and stands as observers at checkpoints, documenting and preventing unnecessary cruelty by the IDF. CPT also accompanies shepherds into their fields to protect them from attacks by solders and settlers. Sometimes, their presence is useless, and injustice is still enacted. But, sometimes, it makes a difference, stopping a beating or an unfair arrest. Sometimes, Christian Peacemaker Teams appeals to the humanity present inside each soldier, unearthing the heart that has been buried over time by a corrupt system. 

We next joined a tour given by Breaking the Silence, an Israeli peacemaking organization made up of ex-soldiers who came forward in acknowledgment of the orders given and the actions they carried out. We stood before an elongated pile of rubble; it used to be a Palestinian neighborhood but was destroyed when the IDF repeatedly bombed it night after night for a month. Yes, the Palestinians shot first in response to their unjust occupation, but the weapons used in the Israeli response were far heavier, far more detrimental, than the guns of the Palestinians. Night after night, they shot streams of grenades into the neighborhood, killing countless people. Our guide told us what he had done, admitting to breaking into Palestinian homes, temporarily kidnapping a family to use their house as a hidden sniper station. He admitted to justifying it, as all soldiers do. He said, though, that throughout his mandatory service, his moral boundaries kept getting pushed back further and further. In recognizing this, he and many other decided to break the silence and work together to help end Israeli occupation by telling their story. 

The most poignant part of the tour was when a group of Palestinian men overheard our guide telling us their story, acknowledging his actions. He approached our guide and thanked him. He asked if he could get a picture with our guide and our group, showing a growing support of Palestine. We stood with the city of Hebron behind us, linked arm in arm--Jews, Palestinians, and American Christians. How can peace be impossible? 

At 2:30, after two hours of hiking in the hot sun we were starving. A 23 year-old shopkeeper invited us into his home for lunch. We ate “upside-down,” a dish of chicken and rice that is dumped upside-down on a platter before eating. It was phenomenal. Our host was named Muhammad, and he was a lively, hospitable, and sarcastic soul who kept us laughing throughout our stay. 

When asked how he had personally been affected by the occupation, Muhammad told us one of his childhood stories:

When he was 8 years old, Muhammad and his 11 year-old cousin were throwing a football in front of the family store. Their grandmother was very sick, and all the adults in the family were with her at the hospital, but the children could not go. As a sign of respect and peace, Muhammad’s uncle handed his rosary to the IDF soldiers stationed outside his home. He asked them to watch over the young boys while he was gone. When he left, the soldiers asked for the football, and Muhammad’s cousin refused. They shot him in the knee. 

In Muhammad’s modern life, he is restricted from leaving Hebron until 2112. When we asked him why this was the case, he did not have an answer. He is not a member of Fatah or Hamas, and he does not support them. When he asked the military forces why he was restricted, he was ignored; they did not know. He has never been to Jerusalem, and unless he lives to be 121, he will never see the holy city of his people. 

I asked Muhammad what he thought was the best way to oppose the occupation, and he responded, “Just be a good person.” If you are always a good person, you will eventually appeal to the soldiers’ humanity. At first, I was disappointed by his answer. In America, “Be a good person” always seems to be the “right” answer. I did not want the “right” answer, I wanted an honest, dirty, unexpected answer, something earth-shatteringly profound. Yet, as I wrestled with Muhammad’s answer throughout the remainder of the day, I began to realize just how profound his words actually were. Each and every person we spoke with today was fighting the occupation by being a good person, by shining light in the darkness. Every day, CPT risks their own well-being to be the voice of the silenced.  Breaking the Silence works constantly against the system of their own country, sacrificing power for equality of the other, making themselves vulnerable for the advancement of justice. Muhammad, a gentle store owner with an honest heart, cared enough for his people to share his guarded feelings and opinions with us, challenging us to share his story too. All of these individuals and groups are peacemakers. Together, they work separately to be good people, living stones of peace, and together, they are working to form a foundation for justice in hopes of creating a better Palestine for the future holy people of this holy land. 

Hannah Trawick