Holy Land Holy People Day 5

Today I left a chunk of myself in Palestine. It was glued together with things like empathy and faith, and as I sit here now, I wish I had thrown a piece of myself over the separation wall so that empathy and faith could mingle in the air each Israeli soldier breathes this evening. 

The more we wander these holy hills, the more unraveled the truth becomes. Sitting down with Palestinian peacemakers and families is like pulling loose threads - all that seemed certain suddenly comes undone. Yet throughout our journey, God has impressed this message on my heart: I am not the author of confusion. I am the perfecter of peace.

And as we listened to Zoughbi Zoughbi, leader of Wi’am Ministries earlier, I felt that divine peace. He bore his soul to us, complete strangers, offering tea and peaches along with a charge - enhance conversations between the cultures. Be responsible for our story. 

Palestine, you are hauntingly lovely. You have burdened me, true enough, but you can’t carry the weight of this cross alone. Zoughbi is one of your biggest fans, and I can see that he and his team have agape love for you, really they do. They are working furiously, a loyal ultrasound seeking out the problems dwelling in the famished belly of your great land. He told me, Palestine, of your suffering, just as the others have. He said, “What you have for granted in the US, we die for it...please protect what you have.” I will carry my freedom close to my chest, a badge of courage for you. He explained that every Palestinian is guilty until proven innocent. Why? Because Palestine, you apparently yield danger. Do you though? I can only imagine how living under such a label leads to mind games. Maybe some of your people have made the mistake of throwing stones and maybe some have looked into the barrel of guns instead of the eyes of Israel. But you are far more than rebels armed with hatred. Oh how I pray God envelops you and Israel in his strong arms.

Zoughbi does not want you to have a monopoly on pain or victimhood because you needn’t be defined by your scars. Blaming, he says, is toxic and adorning oneself in a shroud of victimhood is suicide. 

Traipsing through the refugee camp and looking up, up, up at the separation wall in all its graffitied glory filled me with awe at humanity’s selfishness. Where does that come from? Where inside me does it dwell?

Now your turn, Israel. I am sorry you feel you must worship this new golden calf of security. You shouldn’t have been marginalized; your people are better than concentration camps and homelessness. Please believe me when I say that like so many others, I am not against Israel, but I am against the occupation of Palestine. 

As Zoughbi reminded us, we cannot be anti-Israel or pro-Palestine. We must be pro-justice. This is not life that you are living. John 10:10 promises a life of abundance. Sending your youth to man boundaries denies them opportunity - think of what potential lies beneath those uniforms. Won’t you let them breathe?

We were told not to be political animals but social butterflies. What Palestine craves is not your power. Palestine wants good education, healthcare, and jobs. They want to live in dignity. Humans are universally alike in that regard, aren’t they?

I am inspired by Zoughbi and our refugee camp guide. They are a message of hope in a time of hopelessness. They have chosen hope, Zoughbi shared, but hope has not yet chosen them. Still, it is inevitable that injustice won’t last forever. We have a black man in our White House. 

Never has being the hands and feet of Jesus felt so important, in this place where hands grip stones and feet walk paths marked outsider. I have spent a matter of days here and already feel emotionally starved. I have been taught the capacity to love and so I will go to bed dreaming of my Jesus and his compassion for the sinful and the saintly alike. Zoughbi declared, “People like you are a renewable source of hope for me.” Pray for renewable hope in us all. 

Amy Bareham