Wilderness, Meditation and Relationships

Dear faithful friend,

The physical activities of the last few days (walking through out the city, hiking up the Judahian hills, and talking with folks left little energies for entries, what's more, yet reflection.

Here is a summary of the last few days. After a wonderful day Saturday on the Farm, and contributing slightly to the building of a new cistern, planting a few trees, talking with two large groups of visitors from the U.S and the UK about Fotonna, and our work to support the Tent of Nations, I was ready for a little less serious activities.
A friend coordinated a trip by taxi to the Wadi Quelt, a wilderness area near Jerico that I had not seen before. It was the valley that Elijah passed through (a few years before!) and also the path along the canyon below that Jesus might have traveled from Jerico to Jerusalem. It reminds me a little of the bad lands in the the Dakotas for its stark and dry landscape. What was wonderful about the trip, beyond the beauty of the hills and valley, were the relationships that were shared.

Said, a young Palestinian youth, who has training in sports fitness and trip guiding, but like many Palestinians,is unemployed and living a small village. Such skills are a wasted resource, and the potential of losing this generation to a hopeless, and violent future is great. So, enabling Said to pull together this trip: acquiring the transportation, purchasing the food for a barbecue for a feast by the stream and the Monastery (St. Georges, commemorative of Elijah's trip through the area), and guiding the tours of that area and a tour of the Herodian (Herod's mountain palace) was part of the deal. The benefits to all were mutual. We also all had a moment of meaningful worship at the peak of one of the hills,as Christians and Muslims with one God. OF course, it was more than appropriate to pull out my harp to play a bit during our meditative time. It was a nice break and as we shared a meal, hot tea and coffee, we forgot about the occupation for awhile, and enjoyed sharing stories with each other.

On Monday,I was still very concerned about the return of soldiers to the farm and the potential evacuation of the Nassar family. I walked to the Bible College after a stroll through the old city of Bethelem which is my routine. I then went on to meet with Jihan Nassar for the purpose of reviewing her comments and recommendations to the book of poetry that the women of the village of Nahelin had written about their feelings for their land. Kay formatted the book and is waiting for the changes. I could tell that this piece of work is very important to Jihan as a tangible expression of what it means to the women to see the fruits of their sharing together this past year.

I also met a newly arrived visitor who is here for two months as a volunteer, and wanted to see the farm. I also met Gunn Berit a young Norwegian woman/traveler who is "seeing the world". She will be on the land for two weeks as a volunteer. What a spirit she is and what a collective spirit all the young people are that work there. If I were 20 again, that's where I'd be. After the meeting, I had chance to be a guide for the first time by leading my two new friends to the local bus depot and caught a bus to Kilo Sabatosh (Km. 7). We walked up the ridge past the road to the Neve Daniele Settlement and then down the valley to Daher's Orchard. IT is so inspiring every time I see the farm from above, nestled in the valley and surrounded by settlements with a population in total of about 35,000.

We arrived at the gate and there was Daher waiting to let us in the gate that he had replaced for the one the Army had torn down just two weeks ago. The resilience of this family is inspiring. There were a few visitors already there. Two were a part of an Australian/American group that is documenting political art through out the West Bank. I inspired by their spirit. Seeing young people doing creative work moves me to do more. After leading a small group around the land on a tour I have heard the Nassar do many, many times both on the land and there in the states, I was about to leave when I heard that group of Israelis and other internationals were coming to the land to pray. It was International Grace Day. Who would have known? I decided to delay my departure for Jihan Nassar and the children and a warm meal and good fun. I never avoid a little Grace.

The group met in the small arena used during the youth camps in the summer months to act, dance and sing. There in the corner, were a dozen people from all backgrounds including the US, Spain, Palestine, and Israel. Each year, around the world on this day, people gather to pray. The leaders began the session by reading emails of solidarity from around the world. This, I realized it was a moment not to missed.
I sat down in the circle with mostly people half my age.

After greetng and some meditation, members of the group read a prayer in different languages and words filled the dry air on the mountain top. I was facing the ettlement on the high ridge before me. After reading, the group was invite to share moments of Grace since last year's celebration. As I listened, I heard many people talk about how meaningful it had been for some of this group to have been together last year and then again today. That was grace.

I listened particularly intently to a Bedouin sheepherder of approximately my age, share in Arabic his reason for being there in the group and how he saw the meaning of Grace. I should share that before the meditation, he was one of the visitors I first saw sitting in the shade when we walked into the land that morning. He introduced himself as Mohammad and shared a few words in English. I must say that his rugged appearance and poor dental condition, put me off in my haste to talk with the young internationals. They were much more appealing. I should have known better. What a loss that was for me as I heard his story as a shepherd in the prayer group some five hours later. Somehow he had heard of this group meeting last year and had journyed from the nearby hills again this year to share his soul. His words were translated by one of the Jewish Israeli leaders. All of us were struck deeply by his simple words about the meaning of Grace to him. I had been so shocked by his presence in the circle in the first place, I couldn't fully hear the words of translation by the leader, but I was awed by his weathered face and the flow of his Arabic. I can't recall what he said. I can only say that the aura around him was captivatingly simple and warm. I was attracted to his words without know what they meant.

Unfortunately, I had to leave the group early, as my traveling campanion, Ridgely, the new volunteer, and I needed to get back to Bethlehem before dark. I felt a little uncomfortable leaving the group, but I had shared my thoughts through the poem I had recited exactly a year ago a few feet from where we all sat. I don't if it was understood by all as I shared it in English. I wonder if those who didn't speak English heard my inner voice?

When Ridgely and had gotten to the main highway, the sun had already set, but I felt confident that we could get a taxi or a bus. We were there at the stop but for two minutes when a small vehicle pulled off the road and an occupant rolled down a window as they drove towards us. I said, "Babyscot-Bethlehem". They murmured something in return, rolled down the window and took off. I saw the Israeli license plate and knew they must be settlers from Neve Daniel, the same place I had been staring at when I was in the prayer group. We were not wanted was the message. I remember the feeling of rejection. IT was a feeling I rarely felt any where, even here, but one my Palestinian friends must feel several times each day.

We arrived in Bethlehem in the dark. I pointed my friend Ridgely in the right direction to get to the place where she could catch her next bus to Beit Sahour. I then took off to Bet Jala and the apartment Nassar family stay in when not on the farm and I was about two hours behind schedule. As I was climbing the long hill of more than a mile, I could feel the fatigue of the long day in my legs. The hills around Bethlehem are like those in San Francisco. I wasn't so certain of the location of the building in the dark either. I followed my instincts and got to the apartment a half hour later.

Jihan was there at the door and so were the voices of her children as I entered their home and collapsed in the nearest chair. I was home! Shadin brought me a cookie and Jihan some hot spinach soup, rice and chicken. What a feast! She went out to do some errands while a joyfully watched and played games with the kids. What a great day to end my day. After Jihan and I talked about the day, mostly about what their lawyer thought of the present situation on the land, I said I had to get home for some rest. I thought I could walk home after a good meal, especially since it was down hill, but Jihan looked at me and thought better and ordered me a cab. I was intensely grateful for her wisdom. In minutes, I was back to the hotel and in the shower.

In short, I should add the status of the land is this. There will probably be no evacation of the land by the soldiers this time. The lawyer assured Jihan of this. Apparently, he had talked with the lawyer who was representing the settlers. They were behind the Army's actions it seems! What will happen, as has happened several times in the past two years, is that the Nassars will receive papers which show violations, such as building a place for the animals, or the raising of tents for the volunteers and visitors. They will then have to pay a fee along with the application. The permission will be denied, and they will lose the money they have paid. And so it goes.