Imagine

Imagine that your town is being occupied by a military power which then denies you access to your natural resources, taking them and draining them in ways that are irreparably damaging to the environment. They take the water from your land then sell it back to you, even denying it completely sometimes. Imagine living as a second class citizen, you can see the electricity cables stretching from pylon to pylon across the desert but bypassing your village entirely. Imagine that the ways your family have made a living for generations have been taken away, because your land has been taken, and your transportation and movements restricted. Imagine paying taxes on every drop of rain that falls in your water tank –the tank you built because you couldn’t afford to buy water from the authorities. Even that rain, isn’t yours.

This might be a stretch of the imagination. But I’m sorry to say, the reality is even more unbelievable.

In the Jordan Valley I met people so truly poor – that is, with no options or choices left – they pay for transport each day to the settlement of the illegal settlers nearby, the settlement that is taking their water and selling it back to them, taking their ancestral land and doing all they can to drive them out. They then stand in a line up while the man in charge picks who will work that day. They pay this man for his service, if they’re lucky they’ll be picked to work. Imagine. Swallowing all your pride to do that, because you have no choice.

Poverty is not just about economics. It’s being forced to just about survive, to be at the mercy of those who care so little for you, to have no way out.

It seems unbelievable, but I saw it. Realities like these are only challenged when people know. And now you know.

Silent Night

I met some incredible people in Israel and the West Bank, but one person I will never forget is Jonny. He is a Palestinian Christian from Bethlehem and I met him in the foyer of his family’s hotel. He was weeping. He was weeping over the hundreds of olive trees that had been destroyed the day before in a village near Ramallah. The olive trees – the Palestinian pride and joy, livelihood and passion. Ancient, beautiful life giving trees, ripped from the ground. Jonny wept over them, and for the destruction of his precious West Bank that had gone before, and that he knew would continue.

Jonny is 74, and he has skin cancer. His family have saved meticulously to ensure he gets the treatment he needs and can’t get under his insurance as because the hospital in Bethlehem hasn’t the resources, he needs to go to Jerusalem. He has to pay and apply for a permit to pass through the checkpoint to Jerusalem, he doesn’t always get the permit, and when he does, he isn’t always allowed through. When he stays overnight in hospital his family can scarcely afford the permit to visit him, and when they can they cannot guarantee their purchased permission will be accepted.

Early this year in the cold of spring and at the peak of his illness, Jonny travelled once again to hospital. At the checkpoint he was ordered to strip and be searched in the open air in front of the queue and the young soldiers. Jonny has every reason to weep. He is regularly humiliated, his hometown is an open prison and he knows his story won’t make the news.

Jonny has every reason to weep. And so do I. This is my world too. And these things are happening under my nose and in my lifetime and in my chapter of history. A time for action and a time for talking. There is a time to listen and a time to stand for truth. There is a time for shouting, and a time for weeping.

Peace

This week I’m sharing some of my thoughts and stories from the Holy Land, the kind of stories you might not usually hear. For example, Hatim.

Hatim had always been aware of things not quite being right. He was outspoken from an early age, challenging those who sought to oppress and rule the proud people of his precious home, Bethlehem. In the early 1990s Hatim spent 8 years in prison for being a member of the Palestinian Liberation Army and for those 8 years he was nothing more than a number. On his release, he chose, for the sake of his children, to work face to face with Israelis, trying to change the situation for both sides. Even as violent conflict broke out again in Israel and the West Bank after the millennium, Hatim was advocating non-violent resistance and dialogue between all parties.

Hatim is a member of Combatants for Peace, an organisation with both Israeli and Palestinian soldiers who have turned away from combat. Those who went to prison or were certified mentally unstable for refusing to be drafted on moral grounds and who now feel they have to share the stories of what they have experienced so that the world will see the other side of the story.

In 2007 Israeli border police opened fire unprovoked on Hatim’s family as they walked past a check point. His 6 year old daughter was shot in the head and killed. In the face of tragedy and grief Hatim chose path he had chosen before. The path of dialogue, and non-violence and standing shoulder to shoulder with the other side. He chose peace. Hatim is one of many who have paid a high price in this conflict and yet, for him, revenge is not an option.

For both Israelis and Palestinians in Combatants for Peace their journey has involved great courage and a massive change of attitude, heart and mind. They have bravely chosen to look beyond what they were told, to see all people as human beings regardless of religion or ethnicity. Keeping the peace is relatively easy, but making peace is much more difficult. In a world of injustice it really is the only choice. And didn’t Jesus say something about the peacemakers being the blessed…?

Right Side of History

I have a feeling I’m not your average twenty something. For example, I fill my time ranting about justice and church, I coordinate a Fresh Expression of Christian faith and a gender equality project, and am kept awake thinking of ways to inspire people to be part of a movement for a better world. Invite me to dinner and I’ll cope with chit chat for a while but ask the wrong question and brace yourself, you’ll get a gentle introduction into the not so light-hearted ponderings of Laura.

Here’s another example… I’ve just returned from my holiday; I went on a study tour in the Middle East where I saw things that were incomprehensible. I realised that the Middle Eastern phrase is true; ‘once you have seen, you cannot unsee.’

The chapter of history being written right now is a tragic and dangerous one. But if any of us turn a blind eye and make no attempt to improve things, we may find ourselves on the wrong side of history. You may have your ideas and opinions about what is happening in Middle East, or maybe you know very little, or only what makes the news headlines. I found when I was in the West Bank, in the Holy Land, that I had to make a choice – which side of history would I be on. I may only be twenty something now, but when I sit with my grandchildren and they ask me what it was like to live in a world where a military occupation went unnoticed, where a separation barrier which created an open prison for the towns within it was justified, where the basic human rights of men, women and children were abused, and where a long list of broken international laws went unchallenged - I want them to know I was one of those brave enough to speak out against injustice. I want them to know I did not choose to walk by on the other side. I’m not sure what the life of a typical twenty something is like, but I know I want to be on the right side of history.

Probably a little out of season now but hey

So, it’s almost here. The Christmas season is upon us accompanied by snow, the decorations are out (and have been since September!) and everywhere there are children preparing for their nativity plays at school and church. The Christmas Story is surely one of the best known in the world and is re-enacted in such beautiful ways every year (despite the baffling additions of fire dancers and cowboys these days in some school productions!). The beauty and tranquillity of that peaceful stable scene in Bethlehem still manages to draw us in and bring a tear to even the wisest old eye.

But I walked the streets of Bethlehem just a couple of weeks ago and, I have to say, the Holy City seemed a million miles away from the sentimental nativity scene we all grew up with. I stood by the huge concrete separation barrier which cuts the area into dead, soulless ghettos, I spoke to inn keepers and shop keepers who are slowly getting back on their feet, I realised that the Wise Men from the East would never have made it to the manger without digging a tunnel…

I was allowed to travel freely throughout the region on my British Passport but I met Palestinian Christians who had never travelled to the holy sites or Jerusalem, just 20 minutes away from their homes in Bethlehem, because they were not permitted through the check points without an expensive permit. I met the refugees who have been waiting, some for over 60 years, to return to their homes. They still have their keys.

And I began to see that Bethlehem today is in fact much closer to the first Christmas than our romantic carols and nativity plays portray. The fact is that Jesus was born a Palestinian Jew under military occupation, the only reason Mary and Joseph were in Bethlehem at all that night was because the Roman Empire were reviewing its oppressive tax system and trying to control the masses. His family had to flee as refugees soon after his birth and he grew up watching those in power abuse the weak and dispossess them of their property and their dignity. It was in this harsh reality that Jesus preached and practised non-violent resistance against a ruthless and oppressive empire. He demonstrated the fragility and value of every human being, audaciously crossing the boundaries of states and culture to unite and transform the world he loved. He revealed the character of God by living a life of sacrificial love and he gave his life to that cause…

and that is why we still call it The Holy Land.

Many thanks to Martin Nicholls who often has a hand in the Pause for Thoughts, and this one in particular has his fingerprints all over it!