Peace with justice

Many Grieve the Loss of Scott Kennedy, Peace Educator, Friend

2011-11-22T16:11:00.003-05:00

It is with a deep sense of loss that I add the final blog for this tour. Scott Kennedy, one of the co-leaders on my first trip to Israel/Palestine in 2006 with Interfaith Peacebuilders, died in his sleep in Santa Cruz, CA next to his wife Kris on November 19th. It was just one week after returning from his 39th trip there, and the last of many delegations which he has led since 1975.

My last contact with Scott was in the lobby of the Paradise Hotel in Bethlehem. He had been absent from a presentation by Daoud Nassar on the Tent of Nations Project which the delegation had visited the previous week. Scott, in his wonderful manner said, "Well how did it go?" "Great as always!" I responded. And he said, "He always does a great job." And so it was, always encouraging us, ever supportive of what we were doing. That was Scott's way. If it hadn't been for IFPB and his leadership, our work would not likely have ever happened. He also served on the Advisory Council of Friends of Tent of Nations North America, one of many formal associations he belonged to.

I remember one event early on during my first delegation with him in 2006. It was the end of the tour, and we were to return to the States the next day as a delegation. I had extended my stay in order to travel and visit friends in Beit Jala. He asked me late at night if I wanted to travel to Gaza the next day with him on an official tour sponsored by Hamas. It was a tempting offer, but I had to think about it over night as such a trip, considered dangerous by some State Department officials at the time, was not part of the bargain with my wife prior to coming on the delegation. While I was certain Kay would support such an opportunity, I wasn't sure I should do so without checking with her. After all, there were some risks, but not the kind the State Department regularly raises in it's official capacity as arbitrator of safety. After much prayer and reflection, during the night, I decided to join Scott.

In the morning I indicated to Scott that I would be willing to accompany him on the trip. He seemed relieved that I would join him, and indicated he would get back with me later in the morning. As it turned out, the Israelis denied my entry on such short notice, and I didn't travel with Scot. As he later revealed, it was an incredible visit, and a rare inside look of the work of Hamas. He and I always regretted that the joint trip never occurred. It is a memory of the invitation that I shall carry for the rest of my life.

His loss will be felt by many who also considered him a friend.

May his family rest assured that Scott holds a special place in all our hearts this day. May his hope for a just peace become a reality. May we not rest until it is so. Bp

Co-existence:The Kibbutz and Village Revisited

2011-11-22T15:57:00.003-05:00

I returned to the Kibbutz Metzer by car with Dov Avital, the community's former general secretary, marking four years since I last visited there and promptly wrote the article on the co-existence between the Kibbutz and neighboring village of Maiser. As we passed through the electronic gate and through the entrance, there are on the left, is a large, open-air building that houses 300 milking cows. You know already that this is a unique place.

For those who haven't followed the blog over the last 4 years, you must know that the Kibbutz was founded by 100 Argentinian emigres in 1953. The young socialists parked their Kibbutz on land right next to the village of Maiser, an Arab agricultural village and offered cooperation to their neighbors. They said to the Arabs, " We have little skills in farming but lots of energy and youth, and you are wiser more experienced with the land in this harsh conditions. The village elders agreed, and told their people “We know Arabs and Jews are suppose to fight, but let's see what we can do together, and if it doesn’t work then we can fight!"

The first task the Kibbutz encountered was to find a viable source of water. The Arab leaders offered "We have a small well, you are invited to use it". The government also dug a larger well in the kibbutz, both sources of water were and are still interconnected. The kibbutz insisted that all other infrastructure developments brought to them by the government would be also enjoyed by Maiser. From there, a long history of co-existence began and continues to this day.

On this trip, I wanted to see more of the Kibbutz and its life there than I had on the first trip, nearly four years ago when I wrote an article for Christian Century Magazine on the story there. I wanted to know in what way Dov Avital, the then general secretary, had seen changes since he had been there and also what if any thing, had occurred since my visit. I wanted to know what keeps him there and what were his plans for the Kibbutz in the future. He thoughtfully responded to these questions by taking me on a tour of the cooperative and mentioned he was leaving his post at the Kibbutz to run for Mayor of the region where he could effectively deal with larger issues. He had my attention.

As you look out on the property from its highest point, you can see the Arab village of Maiser, just a few hundred yards away. In architecture, it differs greatly from most very plain Arab structures found on the West Bank, and looks more like the red tiled roof, and light yellow homes of Israeli settlements. What a contrast, I thought!

You can also see the borders of the Country from one side to the other, as it is one of the narrowest pieces of the land of Israel. To the west are the coal fired furnaces that supply electricity to the region on the coast where coal is imported. East of there is the "green line" of the '67 borders. About a half of kilometer, further to the east, is the "fence" that separates the kibbutz from other neighboring Arab villages. Some of these villagers are also separated from their farm land. There is a slight possibility as proposed by the Israeli Foreign Minister Liberman of a land swap where this land would be ceded to Palestine, and in exchange for some portions of the larger settlements such as Ariel. Dov doesn't feel that this would be possible as the Palestinians with Israeli citizenship would never accept such a deal, and as citizens they have a voice, even in Israel. There is also a large city being planned which the Kibbutz opposes and which would eventually subsume every entity around it.

In many ways, the socialist bound Kibbutz is a real democracy. All issues are discussed in small neighborhood forums, and major decisions are made as a community. There are joint decisions but people also have choices. All are promised a job, but not everyone has to work. Those who choose not, still share in the profits and receive basic services such as health and education but do not enjoy the subsidies the kibbutz grants to working and retired members . Kibbutzniks also can elect to work off the kibbutz, but donate their pay check to the community. Dov's wife is chief nurse in the nearby psychiatric hospital, and travels there each day.

Metzer also owns and operates together with its partners its own high school, There are 150 children in the Kibbutz and the younger ones attend school there, and go to the high school when they are of age. The high school, according to Dov, is one of the finest in Israel, and is cooperatively owned by three other Kibbutzim. Families outside the Kibbutz can also attend the school, but must pay for the tuition. The children of Arab citizens in the area could attend the high school if they wished, but generally they prefer to offer their language and cultural background in their own schools.

Homes are provided in simple form for members, while land ownership is kept by the kibbutz. If they decide to renovate or expand their homes, they can do so at their expense. When occupants eventually die, the home to go back to the Kibbutz, and the equity earned from the expansion efforts are passed on to the heirs. So, as you look around the tree-laden, scrub and flower covered community- irrigated by potable water from their own reservoir- you see both the simple buildings and the two storied modern structures spread through out. In short there is place for individuality and community.

The expansion of land area beyond present borders is no longer possible for the Kibbutz , but there are vacant lands within the 1200 acres that are undeveloped. There is a long waiting list of potential members, and plans are to begin building on these lands in the near future to accommodate new residents.

The Kibbutz has several sources of income. There is the dairy farm which produces high quality,low fat milk, and finds a ready market in Israel. There is also organic farming too that is nourished by gray water conversion on the Kibbutz. As you may know Israel is a master of sustainable water projects, and the Kibbutz has a factory which produces emitter inserts for plastic tubes which "clean" water for agricultural use. Though their operation is small in comparison with the larger producers in China and Germany, the Kibbutz is apparently the most sophisticated producer because of their design patents and high standards of quality control. As Dov said, "we are small so we have to be smarter". I watched some machinery, which the Kibbutz also sells, reject certain cylinders because of irregularities and shuts down the operation when the system discovers a problem. The whole department is completely run by robots and employs seven workers on two shifts. The factory employs about 140 workers, 40 of them kibbutz members and most of the others coming from nearby Arab communities.

There is a beautiful "football" field on the Kibbutz which is the practice field for the neighboring Arab children’s team, and also their home team space which they share with the Kibbutz. A restaurant located outside Metzer is a place where Arabs and Jews often bring their family and friends and dine together. Dov's intention is find new ways to improve and increase the co-existence with Arab neighbors which has flourished for more than 60 years. He feels this is the future for the two societies, but thinks first that the Palestinians must be freed from the occupation and put on their own before the land becomes a truly shared one. He also feels that Hamas is problematic.

There is also a community building which serves as the center for the Kibbutz and has a cafeteria and meeting space. Dov feels that the center is underused at the moment and new ways need to be found to heighten its use.

When I wrote about the Kibbutz much earlier in my five year journey, I told the story of long history of collaboration with its neighbors and about the incident in which a young woman and her two young children,were killed by a young Arab from the area of Tulkarem, and not from the local area. Two older members, one of them the then General secretary of the kibbutz. were also killed. The story received world wide attention. I also reported that Arabs from all the villages around attended "shiva" or days of mourning where by tradition, friends can offer condolences to the families who have lost love ones. The co-existence, though tested was not broken as seen when driving through the gates and seeing the village on the left beyond the Jersey cows. A memorial park for the deceased stands underneath several trees. It is constructed on the natural rock which lays a few inches beneath the grass surface, and water washes down from a small pond built there. Naturally water from occasional storm will pour down and disappears through the cracks produced from the persistence of water. The rocks represents the land which may change form but persists, and water keeps coming and flowing over it, which is the persistence of life. Their memories live on.

I left the Kibbutz after four hours thinking if I lived in the region, I might consider joining and teaching in the high school, and working in the restaurant as a folksinger and blues harpist. I also thought that my next trip might be to the Arab village for their story. I wonder what they might say? Would they have me ? Dov says, “Most definitely. I will arrange it.”
BP

Reflections on the 2011 Tour

2011-11-18T07:20:00.003-05:00

On a whole, this trip as all I have travelled on, was unique and maybe the most satisfying of all. The highlights included:

Being with the Nassars of Bethlehem and on the farm, the Hallouns of Isfiye, the Awads of Beit Sohour and Jados of Ramallah

Traveling with the Interfaith Peacebuilders delegation and introducing friends to the Tent of Nations there on the Farm

Traveling to the Galilee and cycling a portion around the Sea

Witnessing and experiencing a new phase in the development of the Tent of Nations Project on the land with friends

Spending an afternoon on the Kibbutz Metzer with Dov Avital and hearing of hope for co-existence with his neighbors

Enjoying the relationships with the staff at the Grand Hotel in Bethlehem, meeting PCUSA staff and attending worship with
the Nassars at the Lutheran center, and spending time with my favorite little town- Bethlehem

Sharing the beautiful moon on the Farm with friends and new friends around the campfire.

The Stresses were few but present for me:

Going through the Checkpoint in Bethlehem and seeing the indignity once again Palestinians experience while feeling uncomfortable about the cordiality of the soldiers to an American with a passport

Contrasting the rich abundance and "relative freedom" between persons living in Israel and those living in the occupied territories

Traveling logistics of currency, sleeping space, food acquisition, bodily needs, cell phone maintenance, passport ID, camera care and not having a place as a base/having freedom to take advantages of new opportunities and new stories on the other hand

Possible themes:

"Playing the harp on the road to the Carmelite Monastery at Maraka"

"Contrasting life in Israel and in Palestine"

"Traveling along the way from Tiberius to Capernaum by Bicycle"

"Seeing the tip of the Iceberg of non-violent resistance to the occupation on the farm"

"The Arab and Israeli hospitality of strangers and families for the traveler"

"Pre occupation of the occupation"

"Friends 'seeing' for themselves and being changed by the experience forever"

I thank God, friends, my church community, my hosts and most of all my family
for support on this journey that continues to nurture each time I travel and to remind me of
the beauty of life in the midst of darkness.

bp

A Shared Journey with Friends

2011-11-17T06:42:00.004-05:00

One of the major reasons for this most recent trip, in addition to the primary desire to show our support for the Tent of Nations Project, and more personally, support for Daoud and his family, was to share some time with friends with whom I have walked life's roads for many years: Todd and Paula Endo, and Bob and Pat Smythe as well as Bud Hensgen, a relatively new friend. They had decided that they had had enough of my story telling, poetry writing, arm twisting, and were going to seek the truth with their own "cameras". I declined on the opportunity to lead such a group, but offered to join them on an extended tour experience after they had traveled and seen themselves with other Interfaith Peacebuilders delegates, and some trusted leaders in that program who would provide them with a rich assortment of stories and narratives of people to hear. There were other new friends too. Some were back for a second trip and brought friends of their own to our "Middle Eastern house of Hospitality" in Arlington, just prior to their departure From the states.

As I often like to do, I "cherry picked" from the itinerary of IFPB and chose to connect with the friends at places where I either needed a ride via their tour bus to get to some destination of my own, or just a bed in one of their hotels on the tour where I could lay my head. So sprinkled throughout their 12-day intense encounter with activists on all sides of the fence, a brief visit and "peaked in". I could almost see the mirror of my own experience as I emerged amidst them two to three times. They were still weary from the travel, some feeling sick from a virus or new food, and others just overwhelmed by the enormous amount of stimuli they were receiving both in the visual form of the landscape of occupation, and the narratives of the sojourners there. With mouths agape, eyes tired, but alarmed, and bodies and bags scattered, they moved on in constant rhythm of the drone of the bus engine and shouts of "Yalla, Yalla" of their guides and leaders. I know, I had been there.

I noticed in the beginning, that beneath the caffein-driven days, the jet-lagged bodies, and the sleep deprived faces, there was great confusion about what they were experiencing, Then, at midway, questions and observations emerged about the incredible reality they were encountering for the first time, and about a political situation that seemed intractable. As the formal tour ended, and they could "smell the barn door" with questions that began to emerge like "what can I do, who do I speak to, what is my story?"

At that point, my five friends, joined by two additional travelers for a part of the time met in the lobby of the Paradise Hotel in Bethlehem where their formal tour ended, and a three day extension would begin. After leaving behind the baggage of both their tour, and carrying only the necessary clothes for a few days on the Nassar Family farm, we began the the long walk through the "old city" of Bethlehem to the Manger Square and the Church of Nativity on Star Street which got its name from the traditional belief that this would have been the path from Jerusalem of the WIse Men as they searched for the "babe".

I had arranged a few experiences for the tour that might compliment their formal experience but not add to their fatigue. There was no more room for new information, and I could see it still in their faces. So, we tried to strike a balance with where they were emotionally, and physically, but still leave them satisfied with their decision to extend their days with us. I think they felt three days later that it had been worthwhile. In Bethlehem, I proposed meeting a wood carver friend, off of Manager Square, getting a brief tour of the Lutheran Center and having a nice lunch on the balcony dining room there before heading off to the farm and time with Daoud who had just returned from his tour in the States.

On formal IFPB tour when the whole delegation, including my friends arrived at the Nassar Family Farm/Tent of Nations, Daoud asked me to tell the family story, the recent struggles to hold on to their land in a non-violent way, and about the constraints of the Israeli occupation. It was an opportunity for me to put myself in Daoud's shoes and explain to others what it was that was that is so special when you visit this space where more than 8,000 visitors and volunteers had come to work or see in the past two years. I could see after the half hour, that my effort to tell the story had an impact on many members of the group, and they could visually see both the resistance to the occupation in the construction of caves - in defiance of restrictions- and the reality of "facts on the ground" - in the encirclement of settlements. They got it! Like me, they would never be the same.

So once we took the taxi to the farm through the backroads and villages as the family was now forced to do because of the road barricades from the Hebron highway, they began to understand the occupation in a new way, and the stated as such with such remarks as how steep the hills were, how trashy the roadsides seemed, and how uncomfortable the roads were. This way had taken them nearly three times that time it had taken them on the delegation route. We returned to the farm and were met at the gate by the heart-filled welcome of Daoud's older brother, Daher, we were home! The air seemed sweeter here.

I had invited several people to join us during the next three days, but all of them canceled at the last minute because of other
commitments or unanticipated events. They were are former soldier from the IDF, a staff worker from Mossawa, a Palestinian Advocacy group for "Palestinians with Israeli citizenship, a friend, newly appointed Ambassador for the Palestinian Authority, and an Israeli eco-horticulturalist. I thought their informal presence on the land would provide yet another perspective on what my friends had seen, and an opportunity for the visitors who would "see" this farm and the project for what i might mean to them in their work. Closing that loop didn't happen. I strongly believe that after you have done your best to make things work, it's all you really can do. I also believe the difficulities my guests all faced were yet another element of the occupation which makes life that much harder. Besides, I think the travelers just needed space, and what better way to do so than to just "hang out and chill" in space which I have found spiritual and calming in a sea of storms. I think they found it too.

The deeper looks at the strategies of nonviolent resistance, the full moonlit night around the campfire-singing with other international volunteers, visitors and family members, the "down time" to rest, write and reflect, all contributed to a
peaceful interlude before heading home three days later.

I really enjoyed being with my friends in a place I had found only not great purpose, but an atmosphere of hope, in a world perceived as full of darkness at times. The 100 acres has even more recently become for me, more than a farm, more than a beautiful family, more than a place where people can encounter one another, but also a place where the spirit of non-violence springs forth around what now is a global feeling of the need to change they way we know each other. This project will not end the occupation, but does remind us that journey toward obtaining the human dignity for us all is a road worth traveling , including my friends here. Bp

Biking around the Sea of Galilee

2011-11-08T09:31:00.005-05:00

After a very intense week, I took a break in the action with a strong urge for a different type of venture, one of ADventure. Two weeks ago, I awoke with the idea of renting a bike and riding around the Sea of Galilee. I had heard about the possibility from fellow travelers last year, and decided to DO IT! After all, that kind of spontaneous inspiration is to be listened to. It's for certain to be memorable, and it was. As I tell my grandsons, importance to have adventures in your life, especially if they are shared ones.

Walking many miles each day, and sitting many hours listening to people's stories, requires another outlet for me, often a space to process the enormous amount of information that one receives on such a trip. For most of my life I have ridden my bike as a way to find balance. My friend Larry can affirm that belief. Besides riding a bike is less stressful on certain parts of the body and requires another set of muscles than those used for walking hills, of which there are many here.

I had done some background reading before the trip, so I knew kind of what to expect. There is nothing like reality to inform opinion, though. My goal was to do the whole circuit, about 40 miles or 5-6 hrs. of riding. I reflected upon recent experiences in Cape Breten, Nova Scotia, and concluded that was doable. I hadn't contemplated what that might mean in the desert. I went through 32 MLS in the first two hours! Good thing I brought an extra 16 ounces and back up.

I arrived in late morning from Nazareth by bus, found my hotel near the bus station, and quickly located the nearest bike shop with help from hotel staff,and off I went
to make the arrangements. I could have the bike for the day at a cost of 70 NS or about $20. I was ready. Then they brought the bike, a clunky muddy mountain bike which was far from what I was used to. I asked if there were a lighter weight road bike, and the renter said that the tires were thinner on those and more vulnerable to flats. Besides. the mountain bike would enable me to go off the road. After saying that they would fix the flat on a call, but would have to charge if I didn't make it all the way, my anxiety level hightened. With those encouraging words, I headed off with five hours of remaining sunlight and a tad bit of doubt in my mind.

Soon into my ride, and the steep hills which was described in the blogs, I soon wondered if I could even do half the trip. I limited my goals by the mile as I looked ahead at the hills, and the various places to visit, off in the distant, and unmeasurable haze. The scenery was fabulous and after distancing the city, the solo ride became more tranquilizing, and energizing as I pedaled the hills. I passed a few Israel Agricultural Kibbutzes(sp) with large fields of bananas. Feeling the need for potassium and free and abundant fruit, I stuffed myself with these tasty fruits and thanked the farmers, wherever they were, for their work. I must admit, I felt slightly guilty to eat the fruit - where does that come from biblically? hmmm.

Into my third hour,I realized that finishing the whole trip was not going to be possible, given the gauge of my reserves, and the Jordanian peaks on the other side. I decided to try to get to the ancient city of Capurnium, before heading back. I wasn't certain I could even get that far. I was a little concerned that I had overshot my own capabilities. Onward to the "city of Jesus"!

I passed Tabba, the Mount of Beatitudes on my right, and finally the ancient city itself. I had made it! In the stretch between the place were Jesus is said to have broken bread and where he preached, I discovered a tiled bike path, away from the traffic, and the endless line of tourist buses. There were two small benches overlooking the Sea. At the first one, I pulled out my "harp" and played a few pieces that provided a connection of the Spirit that I have never found at the stone monuments erected by church groups over time. These pauses were worth the whole adventure, and provided fuel needed to return to Tiberius and a fading sunset. The desert gets cold in the evenings, but I was feeling the warmth from such an experience, that only such rides on the bike provide me.

When I arrived back at the bike rental, I felt a certain sense of satisfaction of the ride which overwhelmed any initial disappointment I might have had in not completing the whole circuit. I was really pleased after telling the owner about how far I traveled,and he said, "you did the hardest part of the trip. The rest is fairly flat and the tail wind would help you." I said to myself, "the summit is in the climb". No importa! I returned home now fully satisfied with the experience, and appreciative of my safety- a concern of my family and friends I know. B-

Arab hospitality and human kindness

2011-11-08T00:46:00.006-05:00

My mother often said in her "teaching" that "we can always be kind". That was an important value for me, and one, that on occasion comes to the surface in my daily life. Not that I am always kind, but that there is always an opportunity to be so. The time with the Halloun family was special in that way, as the host treated the guest with kindness and celebration. While for some, Communicating in English was a problem for me. Most of the adults speak Arabic, Hebrew and basic English, at least the adult children did. Someone was always available for interpretation when communication was difficult.

In addition to traditional meals of of Magluba on the first day, with its abundance and special tradition of serving such food on rare occasions there was practice of the hosts pouring food on my plate when there was the least bit of possibility of it being empty. We laughed about that often during the meal. When it was not Labbita, the mother, it was her daughters Mona and Irene scooping the chicken, rice and vegetables on the plate. We talked much about their lives as Palestinians with Israeli citizenship,a description not used by most Israelis, however. They had a fairly good life, even as a minority in a Druze Village. All the chilren were enrolled in the University, or had completed their degree, as Fakhira had. The family was core of their life together, as seen in houses, around, near and above Elias's home. As a Municipal government worker he had had risen to a high administrative post in the Water and Electricity Board.

I was given the daughter's room (Fakhira) and friend in the States, with an incredible view of the valley, and a balcony to enjoy the morning sun as it stretched over the valley below. I slept well, but as has been the practice, I rose at about 5:00 to answer emails and do some writing.

The family invited me to join the mother's weekly pilgrimage of 4 kms. to the monastery of Maruka, where a priest would lead mass. Of the family, only Labbiba
and I sat in worship. It was a beautiful sanctuary, and Fakhira's cousin, Leah read the morning scripture as well as the singing. She is also the music teacher of niece Noel, who has a voice of velvet. The family has great hopes for her success, and with good reason. She sang one of Celina's songs of hope in English and did it beautifully.

After the chapel emptied, with only one couple remaining in the back, I couldn't refuse the opportunity to continue worship with a few pieces on my harp. The sound resonated nicely, as it can in such a stone venue, and the feedback from them is inspiring for my play. (often much better than I sound) After I finished a rendition of "Sanctuary" and "Font of Blessing", I heard this voice from the back say, "Please play some more". And so I did. IT was a special connection with other fellow worshipers. We all left satisfied that God was truly in this place.

We didn't walk home, but arrived in time for the finishing touches on Meniche, a very
special of various types of Pizza. Labbita had been preparing the dough when I saw her at 5:30 that morning. IT was delicious, and graciously served as always. That evening, as had been the case with the father, Elias, who had driven me around all of Haifa, and as well, stopped for a beer and chips by the sea; Irene also took me to places such as where the fire which raised havoc a year ago, devastated the region of Israel and killed 47 people on a bus from the prison, caught by the fire. Like the people of the land, the vegetation was rebounding, but the effect of the blaze was still evident as far as the eye could see. Fortunately,the wind was a land breeze and blew to less inhabited spaces. Irene took me to her home which was just a short distance from the fire which raged away from her home, fortunately, to the sea.

There was an abundance of food, love and laughter during my time there and there were always family there, including the children of Carmel, the son and husband of Areena. The two year old Elias, grandson of Elias and inseparable from one another, often came by for a handshake. I so wish I had brought the book, "I love you forever". The kids would have loved it and connected me with the older children, Karena, Katy, and Noel more quickly. Still, they were fun and in spite of the language barrier, were able to communicate together with my limited knowledge of Arabic, and their words they had learned in school. There are lots of ways to communicate without words. The family did that well. And then, there were aunts and uncles that dropped by to share the welcome. While they were hospitable, they always suggested that I take a nap in the mid afternoons. I suspect they needed the break from me, as I needed to catch up on limited sleep. At the end of the day, Elias drove me an hour's distance to the hotel which presented challenges to Elias. Labbita also accompanied us.

And like in the biblical stories of their past, and after dinner, I was presented with a gift, a bright red sweater! That gesture was over the top for me. I quickly put it on. You see, it was another act of kindness.

Journey to Haifa

2011-11-03T13:59:00.006-04:00

As I said bye to the IFPB delegation friends this morning, I prepared to pack once again and find my way to Haifa somehow. While I had the invitation to stay with a friend's family there as back up, and knew that I wouldn't be out on the street, it was a bit stressful negotiating the route without the benefit of the language. But in fact, I actually liked the challenge. Most people were gracious and if they didn't know English, they pointed me to someone who did. There was always a few who seemed brusque, but that may have been my interpretation, rather than their demeaner. Still the challenge of hailing a cab, and not knowing how much it might cost, nor where exactly I was going; finding a cellphone card for Israeli space, and learning how to toggle my way through the phone calling directions, via the Hebrew recording on the other end of the line; interpreting the bus ticket for location of the bus and time of departure; arriving in a downpour and a river of water coming down from the steep hill, with two backpacks, and trusting that the cab driver, who spoke no English, would take me to an inexpensive hotel for the night, was a leap of faith, or foolish fantasy. I sit here now feeling pretty fortunate (perhaps gloating a bit)to have made it through the gauntlet of a new culture using just two words; "Shalom"and "Toda" and a look of despair, I might add.

Why isn't life that simple all the time?

On a five-hour walk to the top of the city, and around its market place, I had this realization that God really was drawing me close to something special. The city experience though, was a dramatic contrast to the much more restrictive life of the occupied West Bank from which I had just left. I can see why folks both live in fear, and feel removed here from the daily pain of the occupation. Fearful, not because of what they know, but what they don't know and what they DO see. They do NOT see because the "walls,lines,fences and borders" are barriers to seeing and feeling. What they fear, though manufactured I believe, is reflected in the presence of a security guard and detection machine at nearly every entrance to a store, supermarket, restaurant and pubic,or private building. Even the children's playgrounds have security person hanging out in the swing sets. What a price this separation and fear of the unknown. I had more fear of crossing at the stop lights even with a signal "to walk", after a near miss by someone driving through the traffic light. (the elderly couple ahead of me were panicked and rightfully so)

At last night's debrief with the Interfaith Peace Builders delegation on the day of harvesting olives on the farm, and walking the streets of the Deheshia Refugee Camp, I was asked a lot questions, unexpectedly. I had intended on sitting outside the group and listening to their reflections as an interested third party. They invited me of course to join them. On further consideration, I should have have remained physically outside the group as I did tend to soak up some of the time that others might have used. The leader rightly called me on it, and said, "And it's all about you Bill".

When I thought about it some more on my walk this evening, I thought what I should have said was, "and it is. And it is about you Scott...and Lisa, Melinda, Maya, John, Andy, Allie, Elaine, Catina, Ursala, Mark, Bob, Pat, Paula, Todd, Jo Cathleen, Wayne, Brad, Sandie, Bud and Jean. For that is what is special about the journey I rediscovered last week and what Daoud spoke about last week at our meeting. It is about catching the spirit of goodness out there. It is about harnessing all of our collective energy, and not that of just one individual. BP

Travel to Tent of Nations

2011-11-02T22:20:00.011-04:00

Today was a glorius day. I traveled out early to the farm, some 17 Kms. south of Bethlehem and met Amal running up the hill to catch the service to Bethlehem for her job as a child physical therapist. It was good to see her, if only for a moment. As I descended down the hill from highway 60 on the dirt road to the farm, I could only wonder how long it would be before that road would be off limits to travelers by both Palestinians and internationals. I could see the two baracades ahead of me, and the farm with it's distinctive out buildings and green trees. As I approached the first baricade, I could see fresh boulders covering the existing ones. I learned later by Daher that an Israeli front end loader had dumped them just yesterday - endless harrassment.

Daher, Daoud's older brother met me at the gate with his usual warm welcome and enthusiastic spirit. The same wonderful greeting would be extended to the two visiting groups, one from Holland, and the other, our IFPB group. After reviewing the plan for the morning, consisting of an orientation I provided in one of the caves, Daher was to come and greet the group officially as the host. The group was observant and had shared their questions and assumptions about what they had seen. I then set the stage with information about the 100 year struggle with the Israeli authorities in a fairly detailed manner, so as to leave the impression that what was required of the family over time, was a strong dedication to their land, and peristence in spite of difficulties,and a vision for the future. I believe they got the message.

Some had traveled to the farm before, and nearly half the group had heard about the family and the project, mostly from us as there were several friends traveling for the first on our invitation, and others had either stayed with Kay and I on a previous delegation or had heard Daoud speak at one of the tour events in the States.

Following the orientation we did a brief walking tour of the place. Daher was leading the other group so we were not able to look at the generators and solar cells. We got started on the harvesting of olives, and everyone eagerly joined in. Soon the place was abuz and the trees were soon bare. I think it was the first time the delegates had had some time to talk informally since they had gotten together three days before. I took advantage of the time to go from tree to tree and learn a little more about each of them which was both fun, and enlighening as they shared their reasons for going. IFPB tours continue to attract some really unique individuals. All are highly motivated to learn, and many expressed surprise at the impact of the occupation on Palestinians and on Israelis. Tthey like many before, "Never Knew". The harvesting was followed by a healthy lunch on the veranda provided by the new cook, Helva, a modest and warm person, dessed in her native village dress.

The conversations on the walk back to the bus,and on the ride to the Deheshe camp, as well as into the night, were about the amazing persistence of the famiy in spite
of the oppressive measures they faced each day. My friends who were on the trip and had heard me describe the project endlessly, said they had no idea to what degree this place was so special. They had finally seen it for themselves, and were discovering on their own how powerful the spirit was around them. I believe it is that spirit that we are trying to capture and share with the many people who have joined this movement from Europe and the U.S. It's contagious! It's authentic! It's a good fight! BP

A New Day for Tent of Nations and Fotonna

2011-11-01T23:24:00.005-04:00

Today is a new day in many ways. After a stimulating discussion with Daoud and other FOTONNA friends last Thursday during our steering committee meeting, we all realized at some point, that we beginning to develop a new mission for our work together, or perhaps had just reached a new phase of the old vision of supporting TON in becoming more self sufficient. When I have the opportunity to provide an orientation to the Interfaith Peace Builders group this morning at the farm just south of Bethlehem, I will do so with new lenses. I look forward to seeing the group today as some of my oldest and lasting friendships will be present there along with some new ones.

The discovery is that Fotonna has worked with the the Nasser Family Farm/Tent of Nations project in its first phase of maintaining ownership of the land, and establishing an infrastructure which will enable them to move to forward in time when people can fulfill dream of the father of Daoud for a place where people could encounter one another. The court battle is far from over, but there is recognition there is obviously recognition by Isaeli authorities of the fact that the Nassar family farm has strong, legal evidence for their ownership of the land which cannot not be denied. Secondly, the farm is almost totally self sufficient in that it has the capability to provide for its needs of electricity and water.

The second phase which has been active from the very beginning includes providing opporunities for understanding and learning. With the Israeli authority denying permits for building new structures on the Nassar land, the farm has been a place for "a school or schools without walls" through offering of summer programs for youth, horticultural training for young farmers, and for courses at the Women's Center in the village. Thousands of international volunteers and visitors have also come on the land through out the year and brought their expertise and skills to the land.
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The third phase includes all the activities of the previous phases, formalized within buildings and spaces for a more formal Education/Peace and Justice Center located on the farm. That day will come when the occupation ends and the new sites are approved/

What this means is that Tent of Nations moves towards a more active program of education for all, including the invitation for more Israelis to become partners
in this effort. Friends of Tent of Nations may shift its efforts to provide support for developing infrastructure as it has, to seeking grants which might provide
support of a Multicultural Peace and Justice Center, right here in River City! Or, at least on this lovely hill top which I will see in just a few hours, a place where people have a chance to be transformed by their experiences together. BP

2011-10-31T21:52:00.004-04:00

Greetings! After two days of trying to figure out how to change the "dashboard" tags that were in Arabic to English, I am now on, thanks to Edmund the late night watchman at the hotel- a genius!

After a good night's rest in Jerusalem and a walk around the Sheik Jarrar neighborhood where settlers have ousted Palestinian families in the past year, I caught the local sheroot to Beit Jala and walked up the steep hill that enters the town of Bethlehem, my sort of home away from home. As I climbed the hill,I wondered how long it would take me to adjust to walking the hills here. It usually takes a good week of marching around. As I entered the hotel, the desk clerk greeted me with "hello William" it's good to see you back! I knew was at home again and a good place to "lay my head" so to speak. It's so nice to be able to hang a few clothes and stow some underwear and know where it will be tomorrow. This will only be a brief respite as I leave for the farm on Wednesday to greet friends from Arlington, and the IFPB delegates.
I met my friend Christy today, and accompanied her down to Hebron to discuss publicizing the Wheel Chair Project that she has launched. There were members
of the Hebron government there as well as people actively engaged in the project who represented several interested parties. Watching Christy manage the various permissions required and the numerous actors involved was sterling. After a year of talking with local village health care workers and identifying needy clients; getting permission from the ever present Israeli authorities, local government officials, customs agents, Palestinian Authority officials, ministers of government in Jordan etc. the project may actually happen this week! Such persistence and skill,
and a male world too! She is very respected by everyone, and that is impressive. My church is supporting the project and it was great to see how the funds will be used. There was also a role for me to play too as a teacher of special needs students for most of my life, and of course the experience of having a brother who was disabled also helped. It was a good day!

Olive Harvest 2011

2011-10-29T20:48:00.002-04:00

Greetings to the faithful! I've lost count on the number of times I have sat in a computer in a local internet cafe, or hotel lobby in the wee hours of the morning, but I have just arrived in Jerusalem now about 20 hours ago. After sleeping for about three hours, I awoke feeling rested, but anxious to get on with things. I leave this morning for Bethlehem where I'll be for a few days until the IFPB delegation arrives. Much of my waking time this morning was thinking about what I will say on Wednesday when the delegation comes to the farm. Besides the usual background of history, the origins of Friends of Tent of Nations, I hope to share the
new vision that Daoud sees and shared at our Steering Committee meeting in our home
in Arlington on Thursday, the 27th.

What is really exciting is that we may be in a new phase, and Bill Mims, our Secretary and local MBA offered a new formation of our organization which would center on education. As Daoud described it,we are entering the third phase of our work. The first consisted of building an infrastructure and linkage to the broader world. That phase is done, but of course, we still need to
continue to build connections with others. But the farm is a long way nearer to
self sufficiency than it once was. The electrical and water systems are in place,
and new technology with the use of gray water is the final step. The second phase
is building an education center "without walls" as the difficulty for getting building permits is a major hurdle. In the meantime, education continues as Daoud travels, the thousands of visitors share their own stories, and fotonna continues its
outreach to churches, Congress and the State Department. The third phase is building
of the Education Center whose designs are already complete.

From Checkpoint 300 at Bethlehem Gate to the Negev, Israel

2010-11-26T16:27:00.003-05:00

On my way home a week ago, I traveled from Bethlehem and the checkpoint there to West Jerusalem,
and then by bus to an area close to Gaza where I met a young Israeli and former combatant in
the Israeli Defense Force's special unit, the famed Golani Brigade. This experience with him which
lasted only a few hours because of my scheduled flight home, but I think a good representative sample
of this trip for me.

This is my message this Thanksgiving morning
to each of you, faithful friends. "Thinking about the Other". A letter to Yaniv. Love, Bill

Good day, Yaniv.

In our country, this is the day we set aside to thank God for the blessings of our lives in a world
faced with scarcity, and where we have plenty. I have much to be thankful for, including friends old and
young. When I reflect on our few hours together a week ago in your community on the edge
of the Negev Desert in Israel, I realize the irony with which we both live in our world together.

We used, several times in our conversations, the phrase "the other". In fact,
it was you from whom I first heard the poem of Maqmood Darwish, "Thinking
About the Other". I recite it often, and still carry the audio of your recitation with me.

I also reflected on three places that you took me to that afternoon, a week ago. First,
to the herb stand, operated by this lone Bedouin young man, when I observed that you not
only interacted with him personally in Arabic, but I could also sense by the tone of your
voices that you both did so out of mutual respect. On your suggestion, I also purchased a bar
of homemade olive oil soap, and an herbal pomade for massaging my wife's aching
feet. Last night when I applied the pomade on her feet, I reflected on the interaction between the two
of you, and for me, I would imagine that will be the case over the next several months, or until the jar
is empty, and beyond perhaps.

The second place you took me, was to the back of an empty store front parking lot where there is
an Arab market, and off to the right, a lone store front with an open air sliding door. Under
the protection of the roof of that building, was a woman who was roasting kabob over
a smoking charcoal fire. You again, in your quiet, gentle way, ordered in the native tongue of the
woman, two chicken schwarmas for us. She was openly pleasant and hospitable, though wearing the
traditional scarf of the Arab woman. She was "The Other" referred by us several
times that evening, and whom, Darwish spoke of in his poem, I suspect. We then
proceeded yet to another location in that village that offered sweets by a young Arab
from the Nablis area. I had to shake my head again. Where was I but in the
realm of Israel. This was not suppose to be!

And lastly, you shared your efforts in the new job with the local school, predominately
Arab and Bedouins, most likely, and how you were working with the young elementary
students there on "environmental education" helping them define projects in which they
invested in themselves. These students were also "The Other".

So, in a land of ironies, which I found not only in your community, but in several places
where I traveled in my recent pilgrimage to Israel and the occupied territories, "unanticipated
possibilities". The prospect of your coming together to work on the Nassar Family farm with the
contingency of the Combatants for Peace members you coordinate (combined former
Israeli soldiers, and Palestinian resistance men), also keeps hope alive for me,
even in the midst of the darkness. I am grateful for your friendship
and for your active ways of engaging with "The Others' in your world.

"................When you think about the others, the distant others, think about your self
and say, "I wish I were a candle in the dark." Maqmood Darwish, Palestinian National Poet

Faithfully, Bill
Thanksgiving Day in America, Nov. 25, 2010

From Occupied Bethlehem to the Israeli Bedouin Town

2010-11-20T14:40:00.006-05:00

Well, it's time to return home. After checking emails for the last time and dropping off' "extra baggage" with friend Jack at his wood shop, across from the Church of Nativity, I returned again to the hotel that had become my home for two weeks, paid the bill and left a token of my appreciation to the staff who had been true hosts for me each day. Few guests are long term at the Grand. Most breeze in late at night have traveling from the Galilee, rise at 5:00 AM scurry for breakfast and are out the door to the next "dead stones" exhibit, never having had more than a word, certainly not personal, to any of the staff. I know because I've watched them and have also been guilty of the same. It is too bad, because those who work for us there have great stories to be heard. I know that because i was privileged to have heard some.

I left the hotel as I had found it, full of old friends who provided great support and service while I was there. My mother was right, long years ago. It doesn't take much to be kind, and the rewards are great. With a warm feeling inside, I headed down to my favorite schwarma place for a last great sandwich. I then began the next leg of my journey home which would again reinforce the constraints of the occupation which Palestinians face every day of their lives.

I caught the service to checkpoint 300 at Bethlehem gate. I quickly moved through the first set of cattle ramps, but the movement slowed as we got through the second set of turnstiles, and finally to a standstill before the x-ray machine. Before I got into full view of the bottle neck of very narrow, criss crossing railed paths, I could hear the voice of the guard barking in Arabic at folks who were struggling to prepare for the machine's hungry body. It was hot and the air still, and there were a number of tourists in front and behind me, all for the moment - equals, experiencing the same indignity. (not unlike the feeling one has at our own airports, except volatile) I wonder if the Israelis feel protected, let alone secure with such a system? What is the real reason for the indignity? How can the Palestinians stand such loss of human dignity and the guaranteed freedom of movement within their own territory? How can we in the free world permit such a denial?

The heat from the hot metal roof above us, and the claustrophobic feeling one has in such cramped conditions is frightening. It causes more anxiety. The climate was not only warm but furious in nature. There were many defiant men with grimaces on their faces and women and men with small children there too, with desperation in their eyes. Some men squeezed through the small openings between the railings to get ahead in line. Some fathers passed their children, then their strollers and finally themselves, trailed by their wives with still other small babes besides them. Most of the travelers aided such desperate actions. Many Americans around me, grumbled and complained, or insisted on some degree of civility, not acknowledging I thought, what the Palestinians who traveled to work, to visit family, or attend their fields must endure day in and day out. I took a picture quickly with my camera, and left my tape recorder on for about 15 minutes to catch, perhaps the emotions that were flowing around me. At last after about 45 minutes of trudging, step by step in the direction of the voice coming from a walled- in cubicle, with double thick bullet proof glass, most likely paid for by my taxes, did I begin to breathe more fully. Only when we got to the machine, and to the next exit for final review of permission slips, passports and ID cards, and oh yes, finger print identification instruments, did the pressure ease on the tourists who were whisked through the turn styles in what seemed as an unfair advantage. After all, how were the others any different than us, at the core? The air on the outside was a relief to the constrained conditions we had all experienced. And then, a scramble with the back pack to the next bus which would drop me somewhere near where I could catch Israeli transit to the main terminal in West Jerusalem. The driver let me off, and by request, told me where I should stand and wait for it. An hour later, and several rejections by bus drivers of different destinations, only one took time to tell me that I was a the wrong place to catch the #20. On I trudged with my pack.

I climbed on the bus and was reminded of scenes on the news programs in the States of buses like this which were blown to smithereens and their human cargo burned to a crisp. I can imagine such fear. For some, the experience of passing through the checkpoint was justified. There hadn't been a bombing like that since 2005, and while there are those who justify such precautions by indicating that since the construction the wall, there hadn't been a serious incident. Those same people would probably not know that at about the same time, the Hamas declared a voluntary moratorium on such strategies because such bombings resulted in unfavorable world wide opinion about such tactics which was not the goal. It was to draw attention to the world about the desperations of those who were feeling imprisoned.

As we drove down the streets of downtown Jewish West Jerusalem, I remarked to myself that I hadn't ever been to this part of the city. The streets were lined with all kinds of shops that you might find in any city in the US, from Starbucks to Wendy's. What a contrast to downtown Bethlehem that I had left just three hours ago. The bus driver indicated my stop, and I scurried with others, including lots of young men and women with M-16s strung around their necks, towards the turnstiles and still more security to enter the terminal which I would find was on the top floor of the building. I was refused entrance in the first of two doors and neither I or the guard could speak each other's language sufficiently in order to understand what all his gestures were about. I only knew I was not welcomed nor part of his routine. A couple of young students finally stepped forward and indicated that I had to enter by another gate further down where the proper x-ray machine was stationed. I wondered as I banged around with my pack on my back if the Israelis who went through this process felt protected or secure, or neither?

I bought my ticket and was already an hour behind from getting to my appointed place with someone waited two hours south toward the city of Sderot. My cell phone purchased in the West Bank, would not work in Israel, and my friend's phone would not reach me either. This was not a great feeling, but I had been there before, and things worked out. Yaniv, the young former member of the Israeli Defense Forces', feared Golani Brigade, said "not to worry, no problem", he would find me. But would he wait for two hours for my arrival as the day deepened, and the night darkened. I decided that he would stay there and wait for me, and that I would not be left abandoned in the middle of some lonely high way in Southern Israel. I trusted that thought even though the driver did not know of the stop which I had asked to be dropped. It turns out that I had mispronounced the name, and when a kind fellow traveling with us clarified the misinformation, we all felt a lot better. At least, I would be dropped off a the agreed upon spot. As the sun dipped below the horizon, and in the dimness of that light, I saw a lone white sedan that belonged to Yaniv. I was grateful for the driver's persistence, and the goodness of a faithful friend.

And finally, the brief but deep encounter with Yaniv, once again. Originally, I had planned to spend the night with his family, but due to the limitations of time toward the end of the trip, I decided that it would be just for a couple of hours that evening and then to Ben Gurion Airport. It turns out that Yaniv's interpretation of 12:30 AM flight was the next day at noon. Israelis would interpret 12:30 as noon, not AM or PM. He was expecting to have me around for the next day which explained to me why, after having dinner together in his community, we drove another twenty miles to his house in the Negev Desert. Fortunately, we discovered before it was too late to make it to the airport. But what unfolded in the two hours previously was priceless.

I have already written of Yaniv's tour in the Army, and his decision to put down his rife and join Combatants for Peace. Well since my last visit with him, he had lost his job as writer, and hired on as a teacher in the mostly Arab community nearby. The Arabs were predominately Bedouins. His job was to work with elementary students for an hour or so around environmental education. Yaniv, with his simple life style ( he built his own home out of discarded wood and other building materials, as well as applied an insulating, clay earthen wall to the structure). He could write the book on living simply which includes eating simply. He asked if I were a vegetarian or not and then we drove the town of Raphat for a stop at the local herb store at which he bought some kind of spice and suggested I get some olive oil soap while we were there. His conversation with the Bedouin was in Arabic, and there appeared to be a very comfortable, mutual relationship between them, almost bordering respect. We then headed down the road and he pulled into an apparently abandoned parking lot where shops were closed, and then swung around to the back where there was a small windowed store, with an Arab woman cooking barbecue over a smokey pit. Had I gotten there at 3 as planned we would have been able to visit the local market with all of its eccentricities. We, instead as the only customers surrounded by the usual crowd of boys in such places, enjoyed chicken schwarma sandwiches and a Coke. Later we drove around the corner to a bakery and Yaniv ordered from the young man, who was from Nablis, in the West Bank, originally. ( what was he doing in Israel?) The baclavah type sweet was delicious, and then we drove to his family farm, for what I thought was a brief look at his completed dwelling, a visit with his parents who were Jewish emigres from Spain in the 60's, and travel to the airport.

What transpired during our three hour conversations, was a wonderful in sight into his life as committed pastoral being, totally integrated into the community as you might get from the above description, and a truly remarkable and lovable individual whose quiet reserve, dedication to the simplicity and authentic aspects of life, and dry sense of humor are notable. While he is actively engaged in restoring peace to the land, he still is dedicated to his country's goal of a home for Jews, but not to the exclusion of others. In fact, he and I both use the phrase "the others" in our discussions about not only how to relate to one another in the present, but also consider such language in any kind of long term solution to the conflict.

Our conversations that day as always, were rich and enlightening , and he caused me to reflect on the kind of life style we live here. He insisted that I take a hot shower before we talked further which would refresh me after such a long ordeal that day. I took him up on it and felt refreshed as I always am after a visit with him and others like him on my journey.

Mohamad, the Teacher from Aroub Camp

2010-11-20T07:29:00.004-05:00

After rising early to meet the American pastors at the Bobiscot taxi stop in Bethlehem, who were joining Daher and I for a quick tour of the family farm, and home of Tent of nations, I took Daher's lead in the story. It's their story not mine. There were ample and appropriate moments for me to share some of my journey with the visitors, and to respond to their questions. As is often the case for travelers after they have had the door opened a bit beyond the typical pilgrimage, seeing the farm sets the whole story within a context of land and its people. I really enjoyed their questions, and the small role I played in sharing Fotonna's story. We prayed together in the chapel cave, and we sent them off with poetry and song. They are well on the way and will find their own stories to tell.

After the visit with the eager pastors, I spoke also to two traveling Canadians who were planning to return in a few days and volunteer on the farm for awhile. I love their spirit. They are huge part of the soul of this farm. Daher then drove me to the Village of Nahelin and could go no farther because he had no license to do so. It was a farm vehicle after all.

My goal for the last several days after seeing Husan earlier, was to return to the village and scope out the relationship which the people of the village had with the residents of Beitar Elit, a nearby, large settlement of orthodox Jews. What caught my attention the previous week as we turned off the settler road in the south end of the village, was the absence of fences and guards, but lots of signs in both Hebrew and Arabic. What I learned was that while the settlers were orthodox, and therefore, not expected to work but to study the Torah, the State subsidized settlers needed labor, building materials, inexpensive produce, and car repair- all of which could be found in the village! There were car loads of settlers with their children riding the streets, and cars with yellow Israeli license plates parked in garage repair places; settlers shopping at the market for good produce for good prices, and men with long beards searching the stands for the needed items. The bilingual signs along the road reflected a strange irony. Was this
the occupation I had heard of? Or, some distant outlier in the equation? I wanted to find out.

The taxi up from the village of Nahelin dropped me at a spot which would presumably place me close to the market area. Presumably is the operative word. After meandering in the general direction which my senses led me to believe was the location, I stumbled on to a large produce truck backing out of a driveway with a ton of fresh vegetables and fruits. They looked wonderful. Forcing me to slow down the gait a bit, I soon found clustered around me several young Husan children who were off for holiday from school that day. All seemed to want to speak some English, and to be helpful. Soon after the gathering, someone with superior English skills drove up and offered help. I told him of my need and he showed me the way, just a few blocks a way. And with that information, I was off in that direction with the trust that ARABS wouldn't tell a directioneven though they know no idea of what I was asking, nor wanting to disapointment me with some response.

Eventually, my faith carried the day, and I arrived at the corner of the thoroughfare I had passed by several days earlier. Walking along the road, I felt vulnerable and not a all secure, even though there hadn't been any official threats. There they were, settlers with cars in repair shops, settlers with cash in their hands and requests for good inexpensive produce, and settlers seeking wisdom from their elder Palestinian neighbors. It was an odd relationship. Suddenly, as I was taking a picture of three objects within view of a garage full of yellow license plates, and people from both camps with a mosque in the background, a voice yelled from the garage, "Get out! Go back to where you belong!" He was quickly restrained by fellow workers, and wondered what I would have done next, if they hadn't. I had images of me sprinting down the hill to the Settlement, rather than running uphill to the village. Somehow the settlements seemed safer at the moment. But soon things settled. I began to move back to the center of the village on my way to the next appointment. But first, nature was calling as I tried to be a faithful consumer of large quantities of water in such a dry, hot climate. There were no public WC within site. I popped into a hardware store and asked the young man if there was a restroom available. He was short with his answer, and seemed unwilling to say more. I decided that it would be good to establish a relationship given my dire need. He looked of school age, so asked if he knew Mohammad, my friend that I had met the day before and whom I would visit for dinner that afternoon. It turns out, I struck gold. He not only knew Mohammad, but had him as his teacher. He was delighted to know I knew him. Soon I was shown the local facility, and on my way, promising to tell my new friend that I would give his teacher a good review.

As I caught the taxi towards the Checkpoint on the advice of another student I met along the way, I sat next to a inviting and charming man, who was eager to speak English, and I learned that the village and the settlement had a long history of exchange. It was just made more difficult with the walls. He said, "we really have gotten along for a long time. We are both tired of the occupation. It's our leadership that is the problem." Somehow, I found his response hope-filled. We exchanged greetings and names as we reached the taxi terminal near Al Hader, and I wished him good feast.

I caught another service to Hebron in the south. The ride on the main highway was horrific, made more challenging because I was seated in the front passenger sea of the van with seven fellow travelers in the back. I think I preferred the rear, as to the acceleration to speeds of 120 kms., whipping past cement trucks into the oncoming traffic was not only the exception but the practice. Though belted in, I was seriously concerned, but bit my tongue which had gotten quite short since my arrival a few weeks prior. He let me off at the glass factory where I purchased some mates to the single wine glass I had at home. I felt great relief as I exited the taxi. I glanced at the factory entrance and it met an earlier recollection. This is the place I remembered. It was lonely there with absence of tourists. The glass products were broadly praised by connoisseurs of fine products, but tour buses rarely came that far south to Hebron. Shortly, I was on my way back towards Bethlehem, and an experience which would greatly effect me.

The Friday before I had met Mohammad, a friend of a friend, whom I had met on last year's trip at a demonstration in the village of Al Masara. He was leading the march, all dressed in a black suit, and distinguished by his size and quiet demeanor. He kept the rowdy young people at bay, but not controlled that day. Their spirit was vital. I was impressed by his
gentleness, but the aire of respect that surrounded him. At the meeting on Friday, and after hearing about the work of his village's Youth Center activities through Eben, the director there, he made me promise that I would return for a meal in his house before I left. I did so.

My friend Christy also received the invitation and had planned to meet me at the Camp. She cancelled out, and I learned later, she really wanted Mohammad and I to have some quality time. It was a nice gift. I called Mohammad when I arrived at the Camp. Aroub was a rural refugee camp, and even with 12,000 people did not have the frenzied feeling that other more urban camps did. There was more space for people to live. Mohammad answered my phone call, and asked me to meet him by the military checkpoint, and he would come get me. My patience and faithfulness was soon to be rewarded.

Mohammad was in his forties I would guess. He was not only a teacher and a non-violent activist but had received his master's degree in comparative literature last June. He was a bright fellow and dedicated to teaching. We had much to share on that count but I was not prepared for what we would share on a very personal level. He had told me earlier about his father who was gravely sick and had been sent home from the hospital with words that they couldn't do any more for him. When we got to the house of his father in the camp, and the small cubicle where Mohammad and his brothers and sisters were raised, I had a sudden shot of a reality that was not my own experience. It was a simple dwelling, and as we turned the corner, there was his father resting on a concrete slab, half prone and half sitting on the blanket beneath him. He greeted his son and myself warmly but reservedly. I was struck by how at peace he seemed to be for such a sick man in his 80's. I wanted a picture of the two of them, and he agreed but he first wanted to put his Kafiya on his head, the proud Arab that he was.

After some more stories, Mohammad invited me to his own home which he had just recently build a few houses up the hill from his family home. And there, at the front of the house, was his brother, who was also sick, and identifiable as mentally challenged. He stared at us and said not a word. Mohammad had told me that he is strongly medicated and that without the drugs, it was impossible to control his falls. The cost per month was about $80 a month and not within the salary capability of a teacher. Seeing Rahib reminded me of my own brother Bob, who also was physically disabled. Mohammad and I had another connection.

We entered his very comfortable, but simple home and his four-year old nephew, who had Mohammad's hand all the way from the check point, joined us for a wonderful meal which his mother had made for us. We talked for nearly two hours about the whole range of things from the personal to plans for the future of his country. When I left, I felt I had a long time friend in hand. It had been a good day. As I was leaving his house, a friend Mark Bravermann called from the states to wish me well. It was wonderful timing, as he also had met Mohammad last year and felt the same as I about him. I wished him good feast and we drove to town together in the next available service. It had been a good day! I was very tired but elated about not only the wonderfully hopeful things I had seen but the amazing people of the occupation who are not really occupied. They are really freer than their occupiers.

Worship in Community in the Wider Sense

2010-11-17T15:18:00.004-05:00

Sunday, was truly dedicated to worship, rest and "Family" time. "Family time would take on new meaning, as you will see. I really missed the spiritual pilgrimage that is possible through the visits to the Holy places. However, I have learned to appreciate the "living stones" more than the "the dead stones" that often attract us there in the first place. For in those living spaces, God is truly present for me. It's for that selfish reason that I take these trips.

I joined the Nassar family for worship at their church the Christmas Church, located a few yards from where I was staying. As I entered the square, I saw Tony and his mother moving in the same direction, and joined them inside the church, in same pew. Afterall, this was their place of worship and for me, though I have joined in on a couple of occasions with the simul-cast broadcasts between with National Cathedral and the Christmas Church during the Advent season, seeing it in person, made the final connection. This was the real deal.

As I gazed around the room before worship began, I saw the wonderful stained windows and in particular, the one in the dome of the ceiling with Arabic script. Jihan Nassar informed me later that her father had attended that church and as an artist,
has done the caligraphy around that centerpiece in Arabic. The second of many connections for the morning. The pastor had been very active in supporting overtures from Presbyteries, favoring an end of the occupation publically, and actively, at the General Assembly (PCUSA)in Minneapolis this past summer. I had heard him speak as a witness and key note speaker at a variety of venues. It is a different experience seeing him in his own pulpit with his people.

As I gazed around, I saw the coordinator for the Middle East Programs (PCUSA), our mission worker in the region, and the director for Compassion, Peace and Justice (PCUSA), in the first pew. Though I had only seen them at GA also in 2008 as a commissioner, I was able to recognize them as prominent people. I was feeling more at home in this church than I thought I would. May be even a truer representation of the body of Christ in a global sense than I am use to feeling.

Moments before the service began, I saw, two pews up, a colleague and supporter of Tent of Nations, sitting with a row full of young men. His organization had provided water pumps for the new cisterns, as well as library shelves and books for the Women's Center in Nahalin. After the service, I learned that the young men, were active church leaders from large Evangelical Christian churches across the country. They were apparently on a week-long alternative tour of the holy land which included such experiences as visiting the refugee camps, meeting with Archbishop Chicour of the Melkite Church, and witnessing East Jerusalem's Sheik Jerrar neighborhood where Palestinian families have been ousted from their family homes by orthodox settlers. They had had a very disburbing and transforming experience which I would also learn later after worship. With all this going, it took awhile to "center".

But once I did, I found the bi-cultural experience in Arabic and English really worshipful. One of the scripture readings from Paul's letter to the Romans demands more attention when I get home. I distinctly remember hearing that "Hope is not something you can see", and if you can, it is not hope- at least God's hope for the world. Not being able to see it, at the moment, I found such a framework helpful. At the close of the sermon which was in Arabic, I wondered what scripture he chose to use for his message. It turns out, he didn't reference this one, but rather the creation text from the old testament. He referred me to Jihan after the service for her interpretation.

After worship, there was a gathering on the deck of the church, just above the market place which was a buzz with Muslims preparing for the Feast holiday in two days. I gravitated over to the young pastors, and together with Daher and Jihan, and support from the group leader, we were able to invite them to visit the Farm on the following day, on their way to Hebron. More of that story later.

With further conversations with the Louisville church representatives, we were also to share the work of Tent of Nations, which sparked their interests as they are presently preparing a trip for some of the senior staff who will be traveling in the Winter to the Holy Lands. The time was right, and God was hard at work. I struggled to hang on once again for another wild ride. There are no coincidences in my life, and signs of hope for a just peace through God's plan, not ours. Yes, hope unseen.

The rest of the afternoon was with the entire Nassar clan at Tony and Isreen's house in Beit Jala. After a wonderful meal in their home, and the traditional Arabic hospitality which comforts the visitor, I felt it had been a good day. The sounds of young children were also comforting, at least for the first couple of hours. While I truly loved playing with them throughout the afternoon, I understood once again, why we have children when we are young. The connections with the family created a cushion of support than I found comfortable and the most beautiful part of my experience during the entire three weeks. Afterall, it really is about relationships, and oh yes, connections. I feel connected.

From the Balcony of My Temporary Home

2010-11-13T06:03:00.006-05:00

The sun's rays are filtered by the clouds this morning, unlike most days. Will the rains come to today? Probably not. The persistence of sun will claim the day. I feel the change as I write each new word. Yesterday was a time for me of a crystalization of many separate events of days past. The defining moment occurred in the morning during the taxi ride to Nahallin Village. I saw transactions between business people of Husan village and their orthodox customers from Beitar Elit. I was shocked. Signs written in Hebrew appeared all along streets for services, for vegetables and materials. Where are the walls to separate these people? There are none. No doubt this is mutual economic dependency at its best, but also there is the possibility of personal relationships. Hmmm? I am sure there must be some. (I returned several days later to capture those moments with my camera. More later.)

A friend suggested that I might be interested in seeing also the villages of Tocoa and the settlement of Tocoa. Said, our young friend and guide, organized a trip with a driver. He and his brother Assed, took us to the Wadi Quelt last year for a barbecue at the bottom of a steep canyon in the biblical wilderness area. Today, we headed south east of Bethlehem this time, after first meeting with Jamal, the police chief of Bethlehem who is from Beit Fajarr, the village whose mosque was set fire by villager a few weeks ago.

There are three players in the area of Tocoa, the birthplace of Amos, the village of Tocoa, the settlement by the same name and Nocodim where Liebermann lives. While there are some business transactions between the settlers and the village people because of the needs the Israelis have for services, the degree to which there is interaction is not so high as in Husan. Still we were stopped short of entering Nocodim, so as not to get the driver and Said in trouble, but instead, viewed the kibbutz from a distant hill top. Liebermann' residence stands out and above the rest with its distinctive red roof tiles.

Several boys surround me while I was taking pictures. Like all children I encounter, they clearly wanted to see themselves. I felt a little suspicious about those behind me, but I think it was just because I was a novelty more than they having a motive to intrude in my space. We then meandered south past the settlement through the village of Tocoa and further to the Bedowin lands on the edge of the barren wilderness. The view from there to the East and the backdrop of the Dead Sea, Jordanian mountains some distance away, was amazingly serene and quiet. We paused a moment, but long enough to capture a few pictures of the government-built small, block houses. The Bedowins refused to live in them. Why should they, when the wilderness provided them with a habitat that accommodated their nomatic life.

As the sun began to draw down, we drove back to Said's house and to the home next door that he and his family are building for the future, little by little. The solid concrete unfinished structure with its iron rods sticking up skyward, offers another wonderful view of the wilderness from its third story deck. Such a prospect also offers a symbol of hope for the days ahead. Said announced also that he had obtained a Jordanian passport and had plans to apply to be a physical trainer for the Arab Emirate Army. He also has a back-up plan to study Russian and improve his marketability as a guide here. He had applied to take a test to get his certificate after spending many thousands of dollars in tuition, but the exam was limited by the Israelis to just a few older guides, thereby controlling the number of guides available, mostly Jewish. Young men have a difficult journey to travel in pursuit of careers under the occupation, in addition to all the other constraints on their freedoms.

The day ended with a meal at Said's brother's house with a modified Macluba meal. IT was wonderful. We also met Said's parents who are really sweet, gentle people of the desert.

At night, I met at the local establishment with a few friends and Hosam Gibran who coordinates the Palestinian olive oil trade program at Bethelehem University. They train thee farmers in all aspects of olive oil business. Unlike the Palstinian Fair trade Association which is a business model, who retain 10% of the Harvest in exchange for administrative services. Basam got his masters from the Eastern Mennonite University in Harrisonburg Va. We talked for acouple of hours around his water pipe, and me a glass of wine, about the non-violence movement in Palestine. Bassam spent 15 years of his life in Israeli prisons from the time he was 17. In recent times, young Palestinians could receive such a sentence for merely drawing a Palestinian flag on their notebooks.

Hosam works with a number programs including work with the empowerment of women. He believes that such work is not about changing the role of women, but about changing values and attitudes. He said, his goal is not to produce the next female president or prepare women for leadership roles. While respecting the work of Gandhi and King, he prefered to define his approach which is Palestinian in nature. I asked him if he was actively engaged in a non-violent efforts and he laughed and said, "I'm tired and also disappointed in the present effort. I also spent several years in prison and lacke the resolve." He feels that the efforts today are not focused on the institionalized aspects of the occupation. For example he asked why aren't 1,000 Palestinians, each day attempting to take down small pieces of the wall? The spirit of direct action seems to be on hold at the moment. The Israelis have successful suppressing parts of the Palestinians community to the point that many are concerned about their own survival.

Children of the Same Land With DIfferent Eyes

2010-11-13T05:16:00.007-05:00

Friday was a day of clarity. I suddenly realized that one of the outstanding highlights of my trip occured on a taxi ride to the village of Nehalin where Bill Mims and I joined Jihan at the women's center for several sessions. I will write more about the discovery of a particular relationship between the Orthodox community of Beitar Elit and the village of Husan. Another revelation which came to me yesterday was the phrase "The LIght in Their eyes". A three part poem came to me and three different looks: Childeren in the rural refugee camp of Aroub, the Nassar family childen of Daoud and Jihan, and the Street Boys of Bethlehem. For your consideration:

CHILDREN OF THE LAND

The Light in Their Eyes

There, in the streets of the Camp
Scattered here and there,
clusters of children playing in the dirty, dusty streets,
suddenly alert to our presence,
coming forward in silent anticipation.
Eyes, looking up from one meter, to heights above
as we walk together, we hear a warm greeting of "Welcome!"
in a tongue which is not their own.
The almond eyes capture their feeings, some innocent,
others with an economic agenda, perhaps yes or not.

Bishara, Nardine and Shadin

The light in their eyes, a glow with
excitement, joy and even hope.
As they grow in music, language and learning,
passed on by the family of nurturing souls that
know no" obstacles which can't be overcome,
and have dreams that must be shared".

One who leads her class in every way
though young, but old in many ways.
She reads a book a day it seems,
then analyzes it's meaning for herself,
which reflects a process of inquiry, questions
and verbs of action that lead to a creative
mind and perhaps answers to a world
full of barriers for her.

Another, now playful but caring,
surrounds her brother's body
with an arm, an embrace, returned laughter
and even a shove.
She plays the piano with such feeling
that belies her age and the sound projects
a spirit from within that others can only hear.

At last, Ebent, whose body never stops
from dawn to dusk,
and whose eyes and mouth engage the bystander
with quiet reference, and awe.
Such a little one, he is, who
poses on the farm's tractor with hope in his eyes
and prophetic words in his mouth, and an
overflowing joy in his heart.
All have light in their eyes.

The Street Boys of Bethlehen

The urban youth who are visible
in the streets, often kicking a ball,
release energy around and within them.
They pause for a moment, as their eyes tell a different story,
one of distress.
Having witnessed the violence of older ones,
on both sides, they seek outlets for frustration, pain, angst and loss.

Whoops, a soccer ball under great velocity speeds
toward my head.
I duck just in time and the ball sails above my head
and down the narrow streets of Bethlehem.
Was action deliberate?
Was pain an end itself?
Or, was it simply happen chance
that my head was in the way of a goal's face?
I'll never know for eyes were not to be seen this time.

Bill

A Second Day with my Friends from Trinity/Arlington

2010-11-11T15:06:00.003-05:00

After breakfast on Wednesday, we went to Dar Kalima, the Lutheran school where the Nassar kids go to school, and Tony, Daoud's brother was there too! I had no idea we were going to their school until I saw Tony, as assistant Principal, walked in the room. THe Nassars are all over the place! I saw Daoud's children, Shadin and Nardine in their classes and that was great surprise too! WE walked over to the new University of Aliya, and did an informal tour before heading to see the wall at Rachel's tomb, as I had requested. The appearance of the 28 ft. wall, paid for by the US was overwhelming for everyone. Until you have seen it for yourself, it's hard to imagine.

Following a a spontaneous informal meeting with Zoughby Zoughby of the Wi'am Center for Conflict Resolution and Non-violence ( I recognized the building and dashed over to see if anyone could see our group on such a short notice. They invited us in for tea, and welcomed our pocketbooks to the gift shop and check out the needlework of the local women. The purchases are for a good cause, and not lost on the racket that the tour drivers and guides thrive on THe surprise visit worked out great for all, and was another glimpse for the group, of yet another group working for a just peace through non violent means. WE then travelled to Efrat and went to the home of settler Bob Lang from New York who had been in the settlement for nearly 30 years. ( I had nicked named him "Builder Bob" for he supported increasing the population in the region of Samaria and Judea as a right to their history in the region. He spun his tale and of course "was open to all questions" for which he had all the answers. His presentation was well planned, and clearly, this was not his first time with visitors, as he incorporated nearly every question we might have had, had we had a chance to ask them. I am sorry I didn't tape it! The experience will fuel other posts I know.

WE then toured Dehesheih Camp, the largest camp in the Bethlehem area. THe United Nations which has jurisdiction over the camp, had shut down all its schools and health centers for the more than 12,000 refugees within its walls. Trash had not been collected either for the last 25 days. The horrible conditions of the camp have existed for some since its origins in 1948. The site was very disturbing for all of us. WE left after hearing the overview, and taking the short walk through the camp. On their way to Jerusalem, the group bus driver left me off at the Cinema Rd in Bethlehem and after saying how grateful I was for their visit, I bid them farewell and walked up the hill to my room. It was really wonderful to share time with members of my church community who had heard my story and that of others for the alst five years, and made the committment to come see for themselves. As was for me, their lives will never quite be the same. B.

New Circles of Friends for Tent of Nations

2010-11-09T13:24:00.005-05:00

One of three purposes for traveling to Palestine this time, in addition to providing support for the Nassar family, and visiting new places, was the opportunity to introduce two groups from the U.S to the Project the family leads. On Monday, the Interfaith Peacebuilder Group whom I had travelled with over the weekend, were coming for lunch at the farm, and to learn about the family's story.

IFPB delegations come to the farm almost each time they visit the country. Some of the travelers had been to the farm before, but none in the last few years. They were surpised by the changes on the Farm, and to obvious increase of settlement development around it. After hearing Amal Nasar tell the story, many of the travelers were enraged once again with the picture she painted, but impressed that she expressed no anger, or made claim of victimhood. The message is powerful, and those that might still be teetering on the edge, were swung over to supporting an end to the misery, and obvious violations of human rights. In my role as respresentative for Fotonna, and as a fellow traveler with their delegation, and a former delegate myself, I had their audience for a few more minutes and shared what we had done to support the families' efforts to hold on to the land, and to offer a place where internationals and others could come and work together on the land. I was encouraged that the delegation had a number of young people aboard. All of them expressed an interest in returning again as a volunteer. We will no doubt have additional support in Fotonna's effort to secure new circles friends.

The second group were fourteen members from church in Arlington. I had long waited their coming to the land, and was pleased that they were not only there to see the dead stones, but to see the living ones as well. After briefing them in the morning about what they might see, we divided into two groups and headed for the taxis we had hired for the trip of some six miles. We had planned for them to be exposed to two routes of travel, one via the villages with all of its trials, and the other, a return via the main highway back to Bethlehem. This would give the travelers an exposure to the harsh realities of village people as well as that of the Nassar family. The return trip never happened as the drivers needed to return through the village as they had to make a run along the same route we had traveled earlier. WE were only able to complete one half of the experience for them in that case. Driving the main highway to fetch us would have been a problem for them. It was just fine.

Two Canadian pilgrims, staying at the same place as the group, joined us for the trip too. Amal's story, told in the cave of her fathers. grabbed the hearts of the listeners. I was so happy that the group heard for themselves what we had written about and talked about for four years at our church. It was a highly satisfying experience for me, and worth the wait to hear their testimonies about the injustices they had SEEN. I heard the travelers talking about writing letters and letting the world they knew, know about what they had now witnessed. IT was a great day for everyone. Scwi scwi, (little by little). BIll

The Words of Appeal from Ballota Refugee Camp

2010-11-09T12:59:00.002-05:00

The Director of the Center at Ballota Camp opened with, "If you have visited Refugee camps in the West Bank, our needs are no different, only double as we are the largest camp here. He seemed a little frustrated, and maybe a little resentful that all the misery in the camp is met with indifference by the world. He pleaded with us
to place pressure on our government to bring an end to the occupation, and free the people. Having visited three other camps in the past, I too, was wondering the same thing.

As we were leaving the camp, our group was strung out, and off guard when some young boys acted aggresively and hit of the older, more fragile women in our party with a soccer ball. She was quite frightened by it of course. We quickly moved out of the camp. WE were told by our leader that we should have called the incident to the attention of our hosts, as the adults do not promote such behavior, and would have corrected it immediately. I think that advice might have come a bit earlier. Anyway, no one was seriously injured.

We left Nablis that afternoon having taken a tour of the old city given by the Human development Society, an organization committed to responding to the needs of women, in particular. The tour guide was himself from the old town center, and his story of the seige on his city was horrifying, and the Israeli forces stormed in with lots of weaponry, injuring 100's and killing 77, the largest number in killed in all of the West Bank. He, himself, had been shot on the roof of his apartment building by an Israeli sniper. At the time he was an ambulance worker, and was taking a break, not knowing the incursion had had happened. He hid behind an object on the roof while taking a smoke. A bullet slashed through one leg and out the other, cleanly. He was bleeding profusely, and wondered if he should remain where he was or make a dash for the door. He made the move and descended the stairs to his apartment. His family picked him up and took him down stairs and into the streets to an incoming ambulance. The soldiers prevented him from getting into ambulance, and made him sit for two hours without attention, and by that time had lost an enormous amount off blood. Eventually, the soldiers allowed him to go, but he was again stopped. From the time he was shot until he was admitted in the hospital, totalled five hours. He eventually regained consciousness, and survived the ordeal. There were stories along the way in his neighbor of the old city with similar stories of young men being
killed indescriminately IT is one thing to engage in an equal battle but to attack
unarmed men,is a disgrace.

We headed to Bethlehem and the home stays with the people in Beit Sahour. I got off at the bus stop in Jerusalem, and took a local bus to Jerusalem. It had been full weekend in the north, and I was glad I went.

Harvesting Olives in Jenin

2010-11-07T13:37:00.005-05:00

I decided that after finishing the course on communications with the women at the Women's Center with Jihan, that I would join the Interfaith delegation to Jenin and Nablis over the weekend. We first, traveled to meet the four members of the Palestinian Council who were elected in the 2006 election. They are members of the Hamas Party, and have spent most of the years since in prison. They sought asylum at the Red Cross Headqarters and are into their 128 days of a refusal to leave the property, since they were warned that they would be arrested immediately. It is too bad that the press and the government have labeled them as terrorists, as their party was elected freely in the election. Leaving them out of the equation was also an error too, as they now become heroes outside the conversation, instead of contributing members within the PA government.

We also visited Sheik Jerrar, a neighborhood in East Jerusalem whose families were ousted by the settlers there. Their story is a sad but determined one, as they have suffered severely by the attack of the settlers, who threw the family out in the streets, including tossing sleeping children out the door. The four months or so that the family spent outside in heat and cold, was of international notice. Their stories made me angry at a world that allowed such brutality. Perhaps that will require a blog article by itself when I have the time.

Then, afterwards, we went to the Northern most city of Jenin, where with Nasser Aboufaha. WE visited him in 2006 when he was just beginning to coordinate the activities of the Palestinian Fairtrade Association, and cooperative of some 40 smaller cooperatives and three hundred farmers. What I notice most is the sense
of pride and dignity the farmers have in their product and in the work they do. They have also been able to raise the market price, to balance local need and a fair
wage for their farmers. They use to get 6 NS for a liter now up to 25 or 26
depending upon the results of tests of their oil. Six of us spent the night in the home of Abent and Somerher Khaloway and their four children. Abent is a very succesful farmer, with some 6,000 trees. He hires some 35-50 pickers and has just three weeks to harvest his crop. We road about half hour north through the town of Sababde in the back of a large truck to get to his fields. While we didn't set any records, the workers appreciated our presence, I believe. There was a lot of wonderful lighthearted play and hard work during the few hours we were in the fields. The Arab hospitality is special. Never did I hear any word of anger or hatred for the Israelis, only disappointment and frustration with end of the occupation.

THe next day we visited the beautiful city of Nablis located between two sister mountains, one of good ness and one of evil. More about the tour through the old
city and the visit to the Balotta Refugee Camp of 25,000 people within a square KM.
70% of whom are children under age 18. b.

A Local Settlement and its Accommodating Neighbors

2010-11-03T08:41:00.003-04:00

Well, just when you begin to really think you understand the situation, you learn you know little. Teaching in a village near the Nassar family farm made what appeared from the top of the mountain on the farm,come alive. From the farm, we could see the village below, but not its many hills within that make travel
difficult; its surrounding settlements, but not their relationship. IT's the latter
that wish to reflect upon. I learned that the town is nearly absent of men, as they are working during the day in the settlements which is their only source of employment. These settlements are on farms owned by the residents of the village. They are forced to work on the construction of the very places they farmed a short period ago. They are paid relatively well at $125 and are able to furnish the inside of their homes fairly well with left over materials from the buildings they are constructing, and with the money they make. YOu would think that the occupation is no problem for them. But the income is good, at least for now. What will happen when the cities they are building are complete and the only jobs they can find are low paying service jobs and not the highy paid craftsman skills they are employing now?

On another village near the same settlement of Beitar Elit, the settlers regularly come to the village to have their cars repaired, or to buy building materials. There are not walls there, and the orthodox come to purchase their goods and fresh vegetables freely. Many of the villagers speak Hebrew frequently and their are signs in Hebrew, all over the place. Where's the threat of the terrorists there? Go figure!

The Women of Bent Al Rif and their Center

2010-11-01T11:47:00.003-04:00

Bill Mims and I traveled by taxi through the back roads to the Women's Center where Jihan Nassar, the director, leads classes in Computer Science, English and women's development classes. She asked us to offer a short course for the women in problem solving, while giving them practice in English. These are very bright young women, who because of the traditional nature of their culture, are not encouraged to continue their formal education. For the most part, they stay at home and do little. It is such a waste of talent, and when offered the chance to enroll in courses, they are eager to learn. The brainstorming activity centered around identifying issues which they are facing; identifying resources they have at their disposal,and creating a trusting climate, has been a challenge. They were quite honest in sharing their experiences not only with occupation, but about their desires to pursue an education. I look forward returning tommorrow.

Bill and I grabbed a taxi up the valley to Tent of Nations, and spent some time
weeding around the olive trees I planted two years ago. They are doing quite well,
and during the fourth year, they take off. We regret to say that the one for George Bush died in the vine.

"I Never Knew"

2010-10-31T05:30:00.002-04:00

I am now here in Bethlehem for nearly two days and already into a rythmn which will of course, soon break, as I move to another location for a few days. This week will take me to the Tent of Nations several times (to co teach a course with Jihan Nassar on group building, and to co-lead a tour of the Tent of Nations Project with Amal Nassar), and then to Jenin in the North for the olive harvest festival; visits with the olive growers that supply our community with olive oil; a night with a family there, and then to Nablis and the refugee camp there which I have never seen. I will return to Bethlehem next Sunday and remain in the area for the remainder of my stay and plan do day trips to the farm and other projects that offer a chance to
understand projects that support co-existence,non-violent resistance and reconciliation. That's the plan. You know how that is..

Yesterday, after spending time with the family in the morning, we walked to Manger square for the beginning of the Olive Festival here. Shadin, oldest daughter of Daoud and Jihan, sang in a chorus from her school, songs about the importance of the
olive tree as a symbol for Palestinians of life and sustenance. It was very upbeat and hopeful, a quality I find so truly amazing and energizing as well. A German
visitor joined Daoud, his mother and I for a trip to the land. We took the long route by the back road that has become the only way at times, to reach the farm, as the soldiers and settlers are beginning to reduce the possibility of reaching the
farm by the main high way to Hebron which takes only fifteen minutes as opposed to a half an hour. In the year since my last visit, the farm reflects lots of progress
in gaining self sufficiency. The 11th cistern is now near completion which will vertually provide enough water for maintaining the trees. This assumes that rains
will bring the water. Another cave is now under completion, offering a space for courses in horticulture,for visitors to meet in, and one for the volunteers. The new kitchen for visitors is nearly completed also. There fresh construction in all the hovering settlements that appear to be encroaching closer and closer and wider and deeper. Not only are new settlement roads appearing, light poles reaching, but tall electic towers are popping up in the valley below. This is a signal for large development within the existing settlements. At night the advancing lights of the settlements are even more noticeable than before. It gives the feeling of strangulation and suffication. There is much new growth of buildings in the settlements of Neve Daniel, Beitar Elit and Eliaza too.

Last night, Daoud and I discussed our prospects of the book we are collaborating on, and theme seems to be more of what the farm reflects for everyone who visits- a sign of hope in the midst of darkness. There are lots of resources about the problems facing the Israelis and the Palestinians, much of which is built on fear. This place is built on one of hope and possibilities. A Swedish group of Christian Youth leaders descended upon the farm yesterday,after traveling from Hebron which is very
dark. They struggled up the road to the farm. I didn't join them at first, as Daoud was taking them on the walking tour of the farm. I spent the time showing the farm to the German visitor who had heard Daoud speak recently in Heidleburg. He wanted to see the place for himself. What he heard which was inspiring was what he found. "I never knew" he said. And he said, the same phrase was uttered 70 years ago about another set of circumstances within his country about another people who were disenfrancised.

As I was completing the course a few weeks ago,at my church, on the materials produced by the Presbyterian network called: Steadfast Hope: A Palestinian Quest for Peace, several
members of the class, after reading the materials and watching the DVD said,
"I Never Knew". Such words are encouraging, because now the person is ready to establish a personal connection to the injustice abound, and more- ready to do something about it. As MLK said about the Christian church in the 60's, for far too long (the church and subsitute this with individuals and groups) have been the "tailights" not the "headlights", the echo not the voice. So is it time for
civil societies to respond with action, now that we have heard.

Sojourn for a Just Peace

2010-10-04T15:13:00.005-04:00

Dear friends,
In three weeks, I will again leave for Israel and Palestine with the primary purpose of standing together with those who represent non-violent resistance to the occupation. I learned nearly five years ago, that our presence there meant so much to people who were working daily for a just peace, because of their feelings of isolation. However, just being there seemed like such a meager symbol of support for me to offer. I no longer take that gesture for granted. My expectations for this trip are much like last year. Unlike the years before '09 when I traveled with a delegation, this will be another independent journey, (not alone as I felt the presence of many good friends, and God always seemed to be there too in unanticipated ways). Whenever I seem to worry about a specific purpose or a calendar of events, my friend Daoud would say, "MEESH MISHKULA" (NO PROBLEM)"Not to worry, we'll have plenty for you to do!". I take that to mean, God will provide. Next time, in Bethlehem on October 28th.

Tent of Nations Project in Crisis

2010-02-15T15:56:00.001-05:00

February 12, 2010

Dear Friends of Tent of Nations,

We would like to update you on the impending crisis situation that the Nassar family is currently facing. As you know, the Nassar Family Farm/Tent of Nations Project has a long history of modeling peaceful co-existence with its neighbors through teaching courses and providing workshops and conferences for women and youth. It also provides opportunities for internationals, Israelis and Palestinians to unite in solidarity around a common dream of a just peace. You have been a part of that journey through your support. For some of you, a visit to the farm itself has made it even more personal. In 2009, over 4,000 international visitors were welcomed to the land by the Nassar family. Some were volunteers who worked the land and taught a variety of workshops - others included church groups, religious leaders from all faiths, and interfaith peace delegations.

The Tent of Nations has always provided a safe haven for those who are committed to justice, and we want it to continue to do so. However, there has been a recent escalation in threats and harassment by Jewish settlers and by the Israeli army. For example, on two separate occasions in the last three months, Israeli soldiers have forced their way onto the property, conducting searches of family members and internationals and threatening to return with eviction papers. Most recently, on January 25, an Israeli bulldozer, accompanied by three military jeeps, came and blocked the road to the farm at the eastern entrance near the settlement of Neve Daniel. At first, the family thought the soldiers were there to destroy everything on the farm that they have worked so long and hard to build. Fortunately, the soldiers simply erected a roadblock and departed.

Lately, the Israeli military has made its presence known both day and night. Residents of the nearby village of Nahalin have been stopped at ‘flying checkpoints’ as they attempt to reach their homes from Route 60, the main north/south highway in that area. Palestinians are now barred from using the road connecting Route 60 and the farm, so in order to travel between Bethlehem and the farm the Nassar family must travel through the villages of Nahalin and Husan. This is a burdensome detour for them as well as for the 20,000 villagers affected by these new regulations.

In conjunction with the family attorney, the Nassars are trying to determine the intentions of the Israelis in the hope that access to the farm can be preserved. As always, the family wishes to proceed calmly, constructively and legally. If the situation worsens, however, we all may be asked to come to their aid in appropriate ways (i.e., writing letters/making phone calls to our congressional representatives and other influential individuals, etc.). For the moment, however, we just want you to be aware of these developments and to reflect on ways you might support our efforts in the event that this crisis gains momentum and specific actions are warranted. We ask that you please take no individual action on this until you hear from us again.

We will continue to keep you informed. Please feel free to contact us if you have any questions or suggestions.

With deep gratitude for your support,

Friends of Tent of Nations North America (www.Fotonna.org)

FOTONNA Steering Committee:

Daoud Nassar, Mark Braverman, Steve France, Bill Mims, Bill Plitt, Kay Plitt

Really, All Is Well in the Land

2009-11-11T16:22:00.007-05:00

Dear friend,

This my last day in Israel and in the West Bank. I am making this entry at Ben Gurion Airport, about an hour before my flight. It has been a wonderful trip, and full of the unanticipated events which is why I come. Thanks for following my journey. I never felt alone.

Today, we caught a "serveece" to a small Palestinian village called Beit Umar. It is south of one of the largest settlement blocks in the West Bank, and a few kms. from Daher's Orchard, home of the Tent of Nations. Me and my two traveling companions, Christy and Ridgely went to this village to meet with Mousa Abou Maria, a young 30 year old activist. I had met Mousa in his home, exactly two years ago on a Presbyterian Peace Fellowship Delegation trip. At that time I was commissioned by the delegation members at the end of the tour to plant thirteen olive trees in the name of each of the delegates. You see, Mousa is a farmer as is Daoud. They have much in common.

While the group departed for Jordan's Petra and for home afterward, I had the opportunity to re-enter Israel, travel to the Bethlehem area and rejoin Mousa and some children to plant the young trees. I did so. In the weeks prior to this, the Israeli settlers nearby acquired 200 acres of his land. We planned to plant the trees next to their new settler fence as a statement of non-violent resistance to such aggression . I had someone take a picture of the two of us shaking hands. When I returned home, I made a copy of the picture and taped it above my computer. Each day I sat down to work, I thought of the courage he had shown over the last couple of years and his persistent, peaceful opposition to the occupation.

Just a few months after I returned from that trip, I heard that Mousa had been placed under arrest with no charges made. He was under "administrative detention" which meant the authorities could keep him in jail for 90 days without bringing a charge against him. Today, during our conversation on the open deck of his house, I would hear his account of the 13 months he spent behind bars.

The warm morning sun poured down on us as we sat together on the tile deck that faced his neighbors' small plots of land. Also within our view was the community green house that contained hearty young cucumber plants. For me, that tent which had been destroyed by a settler bomb at least once, was symbolic of the Palestinian determination to maintain a presence on the land in spite of the oppressive conditions under which they were forced to live.

As we sat down around some cups of hot mint tea, I could feel the warmth of not only the physical environment surrounding us, but in contrast to the noisiness of the city streets of Bethlehem I had witnessed earlier that morning, there also was the presence of fellow travelers. It was a satisfying change. It was just a nice day to be alive. You know the feeling. There, on the deck with me were several young international volunteers and friends of Mousa, talking about plans and sharing visions for the future. Before the day was over, Christy, from Oklahoma; Mav from Ireland; Paulo from Russia, as well as several of Mousa's curious neighbors joined the group to tell their stories and share hopes for the days ahead. I was aware of the youthfulness of the group. If I were twenty something again, I'd be doing what they are doing. Somehow, I didn't feel uncomfortable with the distance in age. Kay always said I was in denial. I felt welcomed there. Mousa would say to me as we departed in the late afternoon in his awkward use of English, but clear intention in meaning, "We need more old bodies like yours, with good hearts to do the work together". I took that as acceptance for my frailties.

As we sat there, I listened and recorded digitally our conversation with Mousa which went on for nearly three hours. He had been arrested in the Spring of 2008. The security chief in the town invited him to his headquarters in the village for coffee. Mousa called his bluff and said, "You can come to MY house for coffee, but I suspect that it is not why you wish to see me. It is not coffee you are offering me, and we both know it".

He went down to the headquarters anyway, and was arrested as he knew he'd be. The security officer said that Mousa's Jewish wife (Mousa married an American Jew, Becka, and they both had worked together to organize the Palestinian Solidarity Project. I had also met her also on my visit in '07). Furthermore, if he would just become a collaborator for the Israeli police, they would free him. He refused to do so. The ante went up a notch more when the officer said that Mousa's wife would require money to live in the style she was accustomed to in the States. He once again, refused to agree to any terms. What he said was that he would always be transparent to not only the police but to people in own his community about his convictions . To do other than that he said, would not only be a betrayal of his own conscience but a betrayal of the truth he owed to all.

He spent the next ten months in jail. At the end of that time, he was again offered a deal. He refused. (I hear the call to board the plane. Will return tomorrow.....)

And, here I am a day later, safely home and so full of stories like the one above, I hardly know where to begin. The time will come I know when I find the particular experience that will drive me in the days ahead to share what's in my heart for that is what you will hear, and perhaps remember. Maybe it's this one?

Continuing....when Mousa returned to his home after the incarceration, he did so under severe restrictions. He was released not to his village, but transported to the Israeli border with Jordan and told he could not return to the West Bank for three years. It's important to remember that he was never charged with a legitimate offense. When he got to the border, Jordan refused him entry. He was caught in the middle. Eventually, he traveled back to his village, in violation of his parole, where he continues to work to build a non-violent resistance movement known as the Palestine Solidarity Project (PSP).

This soft spoken, gentle young man, has created an energy, that even the harshest enemy can not thwart. As we talked together on the patio on my last day in the West Bank, just as I had when we planted trees together against the settler fence two years, I had again, great admiration for his courage. There, on the patio of his home, where many internationals come to visit and work throughout the year on various projects,there is strength and solidarity. Next week, he and Israeli activists will meet in Israel, a first, for such travel for Palestinians requires special permits. Some 70 people will meet to talk about how true peace and justice might happen. His PEP organization will send two internationals and two local villagers there. Mousa himself will probably not attend because of his "house arrest". He does not want to call attention to himself for fear that it will serve as a distraction to the real purpose of the meeting. There are others who can go in his place because of the organizational style he has developed, I think.

Such an event, is a response, a steady feeling I am getting now for over a month about the measures we must take to bring an end to this madness for both Israelis and Palestinians. At the Sabeel Conference in D.C last month, Richard Falk, the UN Provocateur for Palestinian Human Rights said, "change will come as a result of both a grassroots movement and "political impossibilities". Grassroots, because our governments will not resolve the issue. Like many movements in the past involving civil rights, he said, it will come from direct action by the people in the streets. "Political impossibilities" are solutions that are not presently seen and recognized as strategies. I think such actions, as Mousa is taking through the PSP, is a "political impossibility" if multiplied, that might seize the moment for a just peace.

As I left the home of Mousa that late afternoon, climbed in the van with others, and headed back to Bethlehem, I couldn't but help feel that I had been a witness to a new day in Israel and Palestine. I got off at Kilo 7, to make one more visit to Daher's Orchard and the Tent of Nations. Though it was getting dark, the walk to the farm was a mile away, and the return uphill past incoming Israeli workers from Hebron to their adjacent settlement a little tense, I wanted very much to step again on the farm to feel for a final time, the energy of the land. IT is one of the few places I felt completely free during my stay in the West Bank. I wish my Palestinian friends may feel that same spirit some day through all of the freed occupied lands, so that they may have true peace and justice, and that the Israelis ultimately realize that in being part of such a transition themselves, they too will have the security they deserve and desire. By visiting Daher and Amal on farm at the very end of my trip,and knowing I would see Daoud in my home the next day, I wanted to carry back to him the assurance that all is well. For it really is.

Wilderness, Meditation and Relationships

2009-11-10T04:49:00.008-05:00

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.

When Force meets Nonviolent resistence

2009-11-07T12:26:00.006-05:00

Dear Friend,

When I reflected on today's activities, I thought of Walter Wink's book: "Jesus Christ: A Third way- Non violence." In his book, Wink describes the call to action through phrases like "walk the extra mile" and "to turn the other cheek, not as passive acts, but as agressive moves in the face of the Roman Empire.Today was to be loosely configured. We'd see how the day unfolded and go with the wind. I took my usual early morning walk down to Manger Square and back to the hotel. I stopped for some mint tea. As I emerged from Paul VI Street into the Square, I was unaware how quickly the day would take shape. Something told me that I should take the bus to Hebron and stop off at Daher's Orchard at the 7 Km marker. As I got on board, I decided to let Amal and Daher know I was coming and to unlock the gate. I was unable to reach Daher at the farm, and called Amal as a backup.

I reached her at the hospital where she works as a physiotherapist for young babies. She sounded frantic and disturbed on the phone. Without a whole lot of wasted words, I learned that the Army had visited the land yesterday, and two soldiers leaped the fence and confronted Daher, and issued him a warning that he could no longer live on the land, and that his family should leave immediately. Papers would follow in two days they were told. I was on my way to the farm as it was predestined. Hang on Bill, once again!

I began thinking about what I might do. I could contact the Interfaith Peacebuilders group that was just here last Sunday and were still in the country. I could contact the U.S Consulate who have visited the land, though with a different set of officers. I could go and just be present as an American citizen which is what I finally concluded. I got off at the entrance to Neve Daniel, the Settlement closest to the Nassar Farm. The Palestinian bus I got off was full, and the road connection led to the settlement, next to the path to the farm. I wondered if any one on the bus would watch which road I would take. I intentionally walked in the direction of the dirt road, so as to avoid judgement by the passengers. But did they really care that I might be a settler or not? As Iooked at the rear bus window and crossed the busy highway, I saw a face peer out the rear window. I felt vindicated by my choice.

I called to Daher by phone to meet me at the gate. He walked down and greeted me as always with a wonderfully warm "Marhaba!" I was home again. He then told me personally what Amal had shared over the phone. He emphasized his response with "I would not leave my land and that I had lived on the land longer than his Captain and he and lived from birth." As always his retort was not in anger or hatred. It was the same persistent response of "Our land is our mother, and our mother is not for sale." Daoud's wife was there also, and a group of American travelers with Daher. Also present were two members of the Ecumenical Accompaniament Program. They are the real heroes outside of the inhabitants of both sides of the wall. I had met Andres yesterday at the village of Masara at the demonstration. He is a former oncologist on a three month assignment with the program. These volunteers are stationed at the checkpoints to bring an international prescence, particularly, but not solely, at the Bethlehem Gate. They are saints, and no doubt much more aggressiveness would go on at the check point if they were not there. Their stories about the brutality and the manipulations by the young soldiers is horrifying. IF the world only knew of the inhumanity that goes on everyday for Palestinians, and the costs to Israeli soul, there would be a peace with justice in a matter of days.
Maria, a church of Norway pastor, also an EAP person, was appalled at what she had seen in the first days of her assignment. No doubt she will have many powerful sermons to share with her parishoners. ThE EAP volunteers have only been in the country for a week. They were also present for the Nassars. I do not know who called them. But the were there.

Jihan was very busy preparing the meal for the visitors, and working in the gift shop when I walked up the hill from the gate with Daher. We took a few minutes to talk. She had desperately tried to reach me yesterday, but my phone was off during the demonstration. I had missed her call.

When the visiting group returned from their tour of the farm in time for lunch, I recognized Father Jacek of the Francisans at St. Camillas in D.C, a group we had visited last April when Daoud was in D.C. It is a small world we live in. The timing was good. They heard, first hand of the lastest incursion by the soldiers, two weeks ago as well as what happened the day before. They no doubt would share what they saw and what they heard when they returned home. Ah, another resource. Strength was building.

I was also able to make sure travelers received a handout about our Fotonna organization and explained how we are supporting Tent of Nations and the Nassar family. Soon afterwards, I went off to walk the land and clear my head from the events of the morning, and the hectic street life of Bethlehem. I was gone for an hour, and felt refreshed by the hike, and angry at the settlement across the canyon with its bright red tile roofs and SW stucco facade. I noted that since '07, that settlement had expanded to nearly twice the size. So much for the freeze on expansions we hear talked about since before Sharon's last days. I quickly checked the trees we had planted two years ago for our Fotonna families. Bill Mims, colleague and friend, noted last year that the George Bush tree perished last November (hMMMM?) The replanted Bush bush of a year ago, was not doing quite as well as the Obama tree that I had planted only yesterday. The Obama Peace tree was twice as big already!

As I climbed the several hundred feet to the top of hill, I aked the German volunteer if I could climb down the ladder into the new sistern she was diggging to collect the needed winter rains. As I went below the ground I wondered how safe being below ground was. Daher assured me the ceiling was stronger than the walls that were being hewed out, and made way for the badly needed water. I trusted him, but also gained a huge amount of appreciation for the international volunteers who do much of the labor on the farm. They are wonderful young people and their period contagious. I was glad to take a few wacks at the wall and ascend the ladder to clear air and sunshine. I wouldn't be a good miner.

No sooner had I climbed out of the sistern, but I saw another international group with a few Americans in tow. Ah ha! Another opportunity to gain support and provide ways for them to become friends of Tent of Nations. In one day, there were over forty such folks seeing the injustice of the illegal settlements surrounding the little farm with a grand spirit and the bright light of justice. No guns could ultimately dim such a beacon. My fear of the jeeps and the U.S equipped and funded soldiers diminished.

The Barbed Wire Has Two Faces

2009-11-06T10:49:00.005-05:00

My faithful friend,

The old city, where I am, is so beautiful on these moonlit nights with the narrow, whitish yellow walls. After dark, the streets are mine. In the day they are crowded with cars, people and merchants moving in a frenzy. At night, it is peaceful and clear, with weather not unlike Northern California.

I went to a demonstration against the wall this morning in a village to the south of here. Along with Palestinians, there were young farmers from southern France, Canadian and a few of us Americans who marched through the streets in solidarity to the beating drums of the young and in celebration of 20 years since the fall of the Berlin wall. The French marchers sang the words of a resistance song used during the Second WW which referred to the occupation by Germany. The parallels were obvious for those of us standing in front of the young Israeli soldiers with the barbed wire between us. The internationals were encouraged to speak to the soldiers face to face since the Palestinians could not do so without recriminations.

After the French farmers and others finished singing their song together which sounded much like the Le Marseilles- and done with same vigor! I was ready to march forward. I could not understand all of their words, but I could feel their youthful spirit. Rather than make a larger spectacle of myself than I was, I chose two young soldiers nearby at first, to share one of my poems about walls and barriers. They were ordered by their officers, not to say anything nor have eye contact. As I introduced my self as an American from the Washington DC area, who was concerned for the well being of both Palestinian and Israeli people, I could not help but notice a slight softening in their faces as they glanced from the Palestinians to my right, to direction of the sound of my words. They heard me I know. I recited from memory the poem that came to me some four years ago when I saw the walls here and felt their impact on the humanity on both sides. It was a gift to me. I shared it with them in the same vein. .

After I finished speaking to my soldier friends, I could sense their discomfort. I suspected that they didn't want to be there at age 18 or so in the face of a non-violent group. They were embarrassed if not a bit frightened, I know. I moved down the line to the others including a young African in uniform, who really seemed out of place amongst the ranks of white, European-like Israelis. I spoke to him with the first words I could find which referred to the fact that he must truly know within his heart from his own experience in this country, about the pain of a life separated by one's identity. He too seemed moved, or at least, I wanted to believe he was.

As I moved back to first young soldier, the wind shifted a little, and the razor wire caught the material of my pants, and I struggled to keep it from tearing the clothe. As I worked with my predicament, I glanced across the wire, and the young soldier with full battle gear on, had suffered the same bad fortune with his fatigue pants. There we were standing their holding the same wire and our world joined together in such an amazing way.

Don't Bother me, I Live in Bethlehem!

2009-11-04T14:43:00.007-05:00

Hi!
Just walked back through the now deserted part of the old city of Bethlehem, from Manger square, (because all the shops close at sunset) where I had a glass of wine with a good friend here. The discussion we had was around how does one support the local people who are doing some amazing activities, while not interfering with the local politics. What I learned again was how important it is that any partnership should be a mutual affair; meaning both sides are equal partners in any venture together. For myself, I learned that I need to begin linking people and groups at home with small grassroots projects that are all about relationships. Supporting a young man with a degree in Sports fitness and no job, with teenagers who have nothing to do with their time, is a good investment.

This morning I had traveled back the 7 kms to Daoud's farm via the local bus, and then hiked the mile from the highway past the settlements, up the hill and into the valley below where the farm is. There I found a group from the States there with Jihan, hearing the famlies' story, and a group of German, Canadian and Swedish youth digging a sistern for water. What a place to be! I wheeled a barrel of rocks brought out from the 15 feet hole where two women volunteers were chopping and chipping the stone just to feel a part of the ambiance.

I moved on to quickly take pictures of the developments on land and the Obama Olive tree I planted for him yesterday. Daoud and Jihan have dug out a six foot deep hole in the ground and built a home for themselves which is not visible from Israeli air surveilance. It is complete with two bedroom, a kitchen and bath, all undergroudn. They are anticipating getting cut off from Bethlehem very soon.

Daher, Daoud's brother,drove me down into the village past the women's center that our church supports, as I wanted to capture a picture of the beginnings of a new wall that will separate Daoud from the village, before returning to Bet Jala and lunch with Jihan and her kids. I listened to the girls each play the piano, and played Spider Man with young, five year old Bishara. They filled a void for me that I miss with my own grandchildren.

I have met several individuals these last two days who are doing some amazing activities with needy youth. I have lots of ideas how are church and others can provide support these folks with very little money. I need to read Three Cups of Tea. Mortensen is a great model for partnership development though I hear some of his schools are being destroyed. I wonder how his relationships are?

I really wish I had a few more weeks here, as it is there is just one to go and I am just feeling comfortable in the community. Bethlehem, in its simplest form, and away from the tourism frenzy, is really a lovely little town. I find the people always willing to help me, and do I need it. The Arabic phrase I learned today when near the church of Nativity area is Onnn Ish Hon. Which means, I am from here! (don't bother me with trinkets).

From the Streets of Bethlehem and the Local Internet Cafe

2009-11-03T11:26:00.003-05:00

This is my second day in Bethlehem. I met with my friend Christie Reiners, who lives in the city six months a year. She is from California and is supp0rted by her Pesbyterian congregation there. She visited our church this summer and spoke to some members who are contemplating a trip to the Holy Land in the coming year. Christie knows everyone, it seems in this city, and that fact is verified as we seem to be greeted warmly by some one every where we go. As I mentioned, this particular trip, my fifth entry in four years, was quite different from previous trips. I always come to learn. This time I was opened to some new experiences, and Christie's contacts here were an excellent place to begin.

Just today, we visited the Captain of the Palestinian Tourist Police force who is also is a member of one of the largest families in the nearby village of Beit Javar, a center for quarrying exceptional Palestinian Stone. The Quarry has the potential to fuel a stagnant and captive economy when the walls finally come down. The potential take over by a local settlement though is a real threat, thereby preventing any real chance that the Palestinian people can have a vital economy, much less a future. Christie, through the young man I met and others, are trying to call attention to the plight of the workers here through union groups in the States. It is they, who could truly identify with the plight of the quarry workers here, she believes. Last night, we met with a Palestinian film maker who is planning to do a story on the stone workers and the potential problems they face in developing a badly needed industry. The ramifications of such growth would have immediate effect on some 150,000 Palestinians and their families.

We also walked down from the church of Nativity to visit Zougby Zougby at the Wi'am Center (Cordial or Civility) which is a conflict resolution center that provides training of woman and youth in the area. In the tradition of Arab hospitality, we drank our fifth glass of tea for the day, and heard about the work of his center. He also shared some hommus and filaphel before we returned to Naivity Square and a visit with a wood carver friend of mine who was crafting some gifts for me at home. We then walked across the city to meet with a family who house a center in their home to deal with the needs of some 15 handicapped children who receive no services from the schools nor community. The family provides and individualized educational experience for them on a daily basis. Most are from the nearby Refugee camps. We had tea and a local desert together as we heard Waffa share her family story and the need for support for their selfless act of humanity.

I walked back to hotel, again filled with amazement with the persistence of the Palestinian people, despite the windy, rainy cold day amidst the shadow of the walls of occupation. Tomorrow is another day.

From the city of Siderot to Bethlehem

2009-11-02T07:52:00.003-05:00

Much time has passed since I left D.C last Wednesday. I have been on the move since then, with little access to internet. This trip is very different from any I have been on. All the others were more formal, either Iwas traveling on a delegation, or attending a conference. The only fixed poin, prior to my trip, was my attempt to join the Interfaith Peace Builder's Tour group in Jerusalem on the 28th of October. I wound up in different hotel nearby them that night, which worked out well, actually.

The next morning we travelled together to a rural kibbutz near Gaza- Zikim and heard from a spokesman there who shared the history of his kibbutz. He is an American from San Francisco who was disillusioned with life in the States during the 60's, and looked for a new start in Israel in 1967. His empathy with the plight of the Gazans was powerfully told. He exposed the human side of the war, and shared how his Kibbutz had depended upon the labor from Gaza for labor for years, to do labor on their farms. They also were nostalgic about the happy days that had shared with them, attending each others' weddings and celebrations

I had a wonderful day, also with the Interfaith Peacebuilders group on a tour in the south to the city of Achelon, just north of Gaza as well as yo Erez Gate at Gaza and nearby Sederot. By far, hearing the story of Nomika Zion, and Israeli activist from "The other Voice" and her neigbhor, Erik Yellin,talk about their experiences with the Kassam rocket attacks, was stirring. Nomika, wrote the article that we received last year called 'Not in my name". (I recommend checking it out on the web if you haven't read it. It was a courageous act on her part. Being a peace and justice advocate is a lonely job in her area of the world. ) It was a letter addressed to the world, calling for an end to the bloodshed in Gaza, and sending a mesage that what occured there was not Jewish. I remember reading it and being stirred by her courage amongst a very hostile community, who interpreted her act as treasonous. The story of the neighbor, whose house and family were hit by a random rocket, was equally chilling. But still, both thought the incursion by the troops, and the incessant bombing, was not justified. They though such actions would only incurr more violence. They both called on us as Americans to complain to our government, register support for Gladstone report, call for sanctions that would end the support for such atrocities, and to save us from ourselves."

Yaniv, a member of Combatants for Peace who visited in our church last April, picked me up soon from the home of Namika and we drove south to his father's farm or "Maschad". It is not a kibbutz in that members of the community are permitted to make a profit though can gain help from the community if times get difficult. I joined the whole family that night to celebrate "shabot' along with seventeen other family members. It was a wonderful experience, and I of course, had a great time with the seven or more children who quickly enticed me away to play with them. I wish I had brought my "love you forever Book". The south of Israel, The Negeve Desert, is really beautiful, and quite isolated from the rest the world. It is easy to forget about "the other" and for that moment, that there was even an occupation going on..

The time with Yanif was special too. We had met him last spring on the Combatant for Peace tour. He was an Israeli soldier who layed down his weapon. I think I wrote about it in last year's blog. He invited me to his Mashad west of Gaza. His family had a farm there and he built his own home out of discarded materials. It was an experience just to spend the night there. He is a young man of 37 years, close in age to my own sons. We were kindred spirits, and enjoyed each other'company. I admire his courage to speak out in his community about violence. His family's support for him was inspiring too, though the come from a different era. Towards the end of the stay with him, we took a walk in the fields surrounding his village and he shared his early years as child, and time with children in the nearby Arab village. Those were wonderful memories, as he and his Arab and Jewish friends roamed the expansive free space that surrounded them. He drove me to the Bus Stop, and saw me aboard as I headed back after sabbath and sundown to Jerusalem where Iwould spend the night, before heading out the next morning for breakfast with my friend Daoud and his family in Beit Jala, outside of Bethlehem.

There in Beit Jala, I met Tony, Daoud's brother, and bumped into Christy Reiners, a fellow Presbyterian, and leader of my second tour with the Presbyterian Peace Fellowship. She was heading towards a bus stop just a few feet from where Daoud let me office. This is a truly a small planet and a small place. The Interfaith Peace Builders group was at Daher's orchard so it was perfect timing for me to talk about Fotonna and the work we were doing to support Daoud and his family. I wish I had a couple of copies of Mark Braverman's book, The Fatal Embrace" and copies of the resource guide "Steadfast Hope: A Palestinian Quest for Peace" to distribute. While Douad wasn't able to be there with the group, the setting alone was all the group needed to conclude that it was a worthwhile project. Brother Daher and his sister, spoke from their hearts, a powerfuls story of persistence and courage.

I checked out the olive trees we had planted last year and they are beginning to mature. I also planted a tree for Obama, and plan to send a picture of it to him and an appeal to end the settlement expansions which are eating up Palestinian land by the acres each. It is human tragedy.

I am now in Bethlehem. Having a shower and clean clothes was a blessing. I must close for now. The trip has been rich and stimulating. Another amazing experience. I am grateful for my good friends here. Love, Bill

2009-04-14T16:30:00.001-04:00

Have Ya Been There?

Now have ya been there, have ya really, been there?
Have ya crossed the Allenby Bridge by day from Jordan
When such passage through the terminal maybe endless in time,
Where your success depends on the mind of a youth with a gun
Who knows you not by name.

Have seen the City of Jericho, whose walls came a tumblin’ down,
Been replaced by the new one of wire and steel
So as not to threaten the ones who farm their lands beyond?
Have ya driven up from the Dead Sea, passed the shanties of the Bedouin who flee,
Not because they are reckless, and feckless but because they simply are not free?

Have ya passed by the new Settlements,
that form new walls to the East, of the City that once was the scene of the Holy ones and their priests?
Have ya passed through the gates of that City whose babe was born long, long ago,
And is now a place so surrounded that even the wise men can’t go.
Have ya experienced the check points in origin that are meant to secure,
But instead, further divide the land, its people and their mature?

Have you traveled up from Ben Gurion, on up to the Galilee, raced down passed the city of Jericho, across to Jerusalem, Joppa and the Sea,
Without even a trace of the secrets that are within, the
Nearly four hundred miles of concrete for which it is a sin.
Have ya slept in a cave of the shepherds, pulled olives from their trees, and tried to take them to the markets, lined with walls as far as you can see?

Have ya been there? Have you really seen?
Have ya been to the old city of Hebron, that has endured death and desolation,
Walked down its old streets, passed the market shops
Now shuttered below from their clients, and stormed from above by the rain of garbage, and the epithets of the new “owners”?
Have ya been to the temple of worship where the bodies of the patriarchs abide, and reflect on the three great religions whose
Paths are more closely aligned, than imagined?
Have ya been there?

Have ya stayed with the families in Beit Sahour, whose Christian heritage is fading?
Not only because they’re sealed off from their roots, in the villages that were long ago invaded,
But because they can’t make a living, they and their families must go.
Have you walked the camps around Bethlehem,
Whose numbers near 20,000 or so, and whose children wander the Alleys, shooting cap guns and throwing stones,
Fighting an enemy they have seen take away their fathers and brothers and so?

Have you gone to the gates of Gaza - Rafa, Erez to name just a few?
Where inhabitants live like prisoners surrounded on all sides and the view?
Where the glass windows of the Crossing at Erez appear,
As some mall we might see in the land of the free, yet denies the tales within.
But the truth lies for those to hear, with over a million and half human beings,
Trapped by the fence that denies them their defense,
And Like shooting fish in a barrel, vulnerable and exposed.

Have ya seen the hungry children there, the men unemployed and depressed,
Because they have no meaning, no life and so they have much distress.
Until they promise to respect their captors, they have little of real life left.
But how can that be, from the land of the free, of mercy and justice.

A State that denies so much,
Must really have an alternative agenda, for which they feel is their destiny or some other disguised motive.
The captors have really lost their souls it seems.
Who can blame those within for their rockets, when a generation of children have nothing
To dream about, to strive for, to reach out amongst the forgotten.

So take a trip and see for yourself, and get up from that table!
Go to the land of strained enchantment if you are able.
Don’t take a route of comfort, nor just to see the historical stones.
Travel to its cities within the walls themselves, to the camps, and valleys below,
The settlements that rim above, the stolen trees and demolished homes.
For that is where you’ll find me, amongst the living stones.

Bill Plitt
Feb. 9, 2009

2009-04-14T15:34:00.001-04:00

“Think about the Other”

Yaniv Reshef, a former Israeli soldier, watched from a distance of 12 miles, the bursting mushroom clouds high above the Palestinian cities and towns of Gaza caused by exploding bombs dropped by fleeting F-16’s. He felt the ground, farmed by his family for as long as he could remember; shake beneath his feet with each new cloud.

He thought about his own experiences as a foot soldier in one of the most elite and feared brigades called the Golani. Memories of times when he threw shock grenades through the windows of sleeping Palestinians for fun, or held his gun to the head of a child within an innocent household, now stirred his conscience.

Yaniv also recalled the meetings he helped organize for Combatants for Peace in the neighboring Israel town of Sderot so that the people there, who had been recipients of crude rocket fire from the other side of the prison-like fence, could hear his Palestinian and Israeli partners tell their stories.

Bassam grew up in the ancient city of Hebron, and remembers as a young boy seeing an elder in his community shot from behind by an Israeli soldier. The memory remained with him. At 17, he was caught planning an attack on Israeli troops, and spent seven and half years in prison for that act. Inside those walls he learned Hebrew, and saw a film about the Holocaust. He heard the story of the other. He knew that continued violence was not an answer.

In 2005, he co-founded Combatants for Peace and like Yaniv and others, he refused to use weapons again. Even when his 10 year old daughter Abir was gunned down two years later by an Israeli soldier from behind as she left her classroom, Bassam remained committed to ending the violence.

On March 24th, over 100 gathered in the sanctuary at Trinity to hear the stories of the two former soldiers who hadn’t known each other before the 30-day tour of East Coast cities, but who had become intimately close during those days on the road. Many of those in attendance came from outside the Arlington community. What they heard was riveting. What they recognized was a courage of conscience for which the Combatants had received an award just a week before at the Peace Abbey in Sherborn, MA.

Later that week, at the closing ceremony for the tour at St. Columba’s Episcopal Church in D.C, Bassam was unable to attend the meeting. Yaniv filled in for him, and told Bassam’s story which revealed how deeply he had come to understand his new friend’s inner voice and outer experience. Growing up just several miles from one another in the southern regions of their now separated lands, neither of them was given that opportunity to know each other before. At the closing, Yaniv translated a poem by a famous Palestinian poet, Mahmood Dawish.

Think about the Other

When you are making your breakfast, think about the other.
Don’t forget the food for the doves.
When you are making your wars, think about the others.
Don’t forget those who seek peace.
When you are paying your water bills, think about the others.
Don’t forget those who drink from the clouds.
When you are returning to home, to your home, think about the others.
Don’t forget those who live in tents.
When you are sleeping and counting the stars, think about the others.
There are some who can’t find a place for sleep.
When you are given your spirit a space to fly, think about the others.
Think about those who lost their right for words.
When you are thinking about the others, the distant others,
Think about yourself, and say, “I wish I were a candle in the dark.”

The Kibbutz and the Village: A lesson of hope

2009-04-14T15:22:00.002-04:00

The Kibbutz and the Village: A Lesson of Hope
By Bill Plitt
On the final day of my recent trip to Israel and Palestine in November ‘08, in the old city of Jerusalem, where I was staying, a colleague suggested that I take a diversion on my way home and venture up just south of Galilee to the Israeli Kibbutz Metzer. So, along with my Quaker traveling companion and one other American, we hired a taxi and drove north for nearly two hours to the interior of the state of Israel, to a place I hadn’t been before.

As I sat down in one of the four, plain metal chairs around the small table in the trailer office of the Kibbutz Metzer, I stirred my coffee slowly and wondered about the appearance of the commune’s simplicity. I wondered also about the journey of its people and those in neighboring Israeli Arab villages. Dov Avital, the secretary general for the kibbutz, who had poured us each a cup of coffee, as is custom among the people of the Middle East, was as eager to tell his story as we were to listen. We knew little about this place that grew out of the idealism of the 50’s. We were not prepared for what he was about to tell us.

On Nov.10th, 2002, a lone Palestinian gunman entered the kibbutz and murdered three adults and two children. The mother had just finished reading her children a bedtime story. This violent act shook the kibbutz and neighboring villages, and the shock reverberated throughout Israel. What events could have led up to this?

Dov shared with us that in 1953, one hundred and twenty Argentinean émigrés formed the kibbutz in a barren area in central Israel, a practice that had been replicated many times since 1948 when Palestinian villages had been emptied and Arabs expelled during what was called ‘the war of Independence’ by the Jews or ‘the disaster’ by the Palestinians. In this case, the land was taken by the émigrés as granted by the “Armistice Treaty” of ‘48. From the very beginning, however, the founders chose to practice coexistence with the surrounding villages whose people were Arab and who today make up about 20% of the Israeli citizenry.

The cooperation was two-way from the very beginning. When the Kibbutz could not locate viable water, the nearby Israeli Arab village of Meiser connected Metzer to its own small well; that action would not be forgotten. Other acts of kindness would follow over the 50 years of working together: dousing a threatening brush fire together near the Kibbutz; sharing sports activities with neighboring villages, including the use of Metzer’s swimming pool; even forming a joint soccer team which competed in the regional league. In the words of Avital, the community ‘became a close knit, multi-generation tradition.’

In 2002, a few weeks before the murders in the kibbutz, the Metzer’s board protested against the building of the ‘security fence’ across the Green Line because it would cut through the olive groves belonging to the West Bank village of Kefin; it would deprive the farmers of 60% of their fields. Metzer’s leaders had scheduled a meeting with Israeli Defense Ministry for the 11th of Nov. to argue the case. The meeting never happened, for on the evening of the 10th, the terrorist committed his horrible acts. But the long history of coexistence between the Kibbutz and the neighboring villages endured the onslaught. The terrorist was not from those villages.

Despite the emotions that rocked Israel, the secretary general said at the time, “Although the thirst for revenge is natural, we need the strength to remember our message and remain firm believers in our desire to live in peace with our neighbors.” He then said, “Most Palestinians are not terrorists.” During Shiva, the Jewish period of mourning following death, many Palestinians from several villages visited the Kibbutz to express their sorrow.

Even after this tragedy, the members of the Kibbutz continued to extend invitations to maintain their long history of coexistence with Arabs across the Green Line. In 2004, when the ‘security fence’ or ‘separation wall’ was constructed, it prevented the villagers from tending and irrigating their olive trees that lay between the Green Line and the new “separation” fence. The Kibbutz offered to construct a tunnel under the wall to receive sewage, circulate the waste in their own holding ponds, and pump the water back to their neighbors for irrigation.

As we heard this story, I was truly amazed at the contrast between what I had seen over the previous two weeks of my visit in the occupied areas of the West Bank and at the Erez Crossing in Gaza, a walled prison containing more than a million people, and the Metzer-Meiser experience.

As we prepared to catch the train from Haifa to Tel Aviv, we couldn’t help but be captivated by the thought that in the darkest hours, human beings are capable of drawing from their common well of humanity, and as President Obama put it in his inauguration speech, “extending hands and unclenching fists”. We thanked Dov for his story. Our coffee remained cold and untouched. The lesson of hope warmed our hearts.

2009-04-14T15:07:00.003-04:00

“The Nakba, Memory, Reality and Beyond”
The Seventh International Sabeel Conference, Nazareth/Jerusalem, 2008
By Bill Plitt
Josef Ben-Eliezer is a holocaust survivor. As a young Israeli soldier in 1948, he participated in the “Nakba”, the expulsion of Palestinians from their homes and villages. His military actions in Ramla, a small village near the coast, recalled his own childhood when his family was forced out of their home in Poland, marched to the Russian border, and taken by train to the camps of Siberia.

He shared his story with us one evening at the Sabeel Conference which met that night in the Israeli City of Nazareth. It was a gathering of 175 Christians from five continents concerned about peace with justice. Josef’s story was powerful, and he recognized that what he had done in1948, was precisely what had happened to him at the hands of the Nazis, a few short years before. He no longer could remain in the Israeli army or in the country to which he had been drawn. His strong need for personal survival, as well as the drive to preserve his new homeland’s existence, dissipated as he realized the connection between his own horrors as a ten year old, and those he was inflicting on others, as a soldier.

You could have heard a pin drop during his retelling of the story. Every word was measured. There was not a dry eye in the room, when Josef described his return to Israel some years later, and his subsequent conversation with a survivor of Ramla. It was then that he revealed, he had asked for forgiveness from the Palestinian for any pain he may have wrought as soldier.

When Josef had finished his story, a lone Palestinian of similar age, rose slowly from the back of the hall and said in a critical tone, “I appreciate the sincerity of your words, but it is not enough. More like you are needed to stand up and share your stories. I thank you for your courage.” He paused and then said, “I wish you many long and happy years!” The two former adversaries shared that night a message of reconciliation and forgiveness, two necessary ingredients for true peace with justice. The moment was symbolic of the entire week as we heard more of such stories and more attempts to disclose the Palestinian narrative from both sides, so long buried in time.

After a week of digging more deeply into the events of what happened to the 750,000 Palestinians who had been forced to leave their villages in 1948, as well as hearing attempts by some Israelis to right the wrongs of that era, the conference participants were greatly moved to make their international presence known in some meaningful, non-violent way. 48 participants rose together that night in the Deheisheh Refugee Camp, outside of Bethlehem, planned our strategy and rented a bus to Gaza the next morning. We could no longer be content to just sit and listen to more stories of pain. It was a call to action.

The news report from the day before indicated that the Israeli Military in Gaza had refused representatives of non-governmental Organizations (NGO’s) their right of entry into the city for a second straight day. The bus arrived at the terminal building of the Gaza gate of Eretz, a large, modern edifice with a glass facade that stood three stories high, and extended the width of parking lot some 150 yards. The building denied the presence on the other side of a city of 1.5 million Palestinians under siege. Only the flies revealed their existence.

We were there to stand in solidarity with the health care organizations and media that had been denied rights guaranteed by international law. Mairead Maguire, a Noble Peace Laureate from Ireland, stood with us, as we encircled the NGO’s, who were holding an impromptu staff meeting in the center of the empty parking lot, to discuss the implications of being prevented entry into what appeared to be the world’s largest outdoor prison.

The next day, the NGO’s were allowed to enter, and shipments of food crossed the gate for the first time that week. There is no indication that our presence made any difference. But the NGO’s felt supported by our presence. We had felt we had made an attempt to act on our call to stand with those who mourn. At that point, the conference became more than a series of panel discussions and stories. It had become a call for an end of the occupation for both Israelis and Palestinians.

The week was full of rich worship experiences, memorable visits to destroyed villages and the stories of their inhabitants, stirring lectures by distinguished scholars like Rashid Khalidi, impassioned speeches by diplomats such as the former Prime Minister of the Netherlands, Andreas Van Agt, and descriptions of heroic acts by both Israeli and Arab citizens to expose the horrors of the disaster, the Nokba of 1948.

Submitted by Bill Plitt, December 23, 2008

Gaza Walls Crack Just a Little

2008-11-18T07:51:00.000-05:00

The journey with Sabeel continues to be an amazing experience. And like other trips to this region. there are many surprises and magical spaces along the way. As we emerged from a visit to theDeheisheh Refugee Camp, the largest in the region with 12,000 inhabitants, 60% of whom are under the age of 18, we could see much work to be done, though the refugees themselves whose families have been here since 1967, have done miraculous acts just to have survived the circumstances.

Bailot, a young Palestinian student, and guide for the afternoon, took us on a walking tour of the camp. Shortly after we began, young children on the roof over head, threw stones which landed close by. I'm glad no one was hurt. While I didn't take it personally, the incident did make me uncomfortable for the rest of the journey that day. The stress of living in the camp must be unbearable. Bailot, shared his own story. He was presently attending the University where he was studying be prepare for social work. He was 21 and spent two years in prison for throwing stones at the Israeli Army. He also had been shot and spent a month in the hospital at the time. He then went on to say that his mother's childeren, 6 boys, had all been in prison at one time! Imagine that? We later went to his home and shared tea with is family, in a tiny, confined space, surrounded by other buildings and where the sun didn't shine. He shared some videos that he had produced for a project sponsored by French as a way of expressing the frustrations that surely must be inside.

I left the group early, and Bailot took me to the Ibdaa Health Center in the Camp where I delivered 5o sets of eye frames for the eye clinic sent by our church community. The staff were grateful for the frames, but many of the glasses broke when the lenses were extracted from them. What they need is 300 frames a month - new frames so that they can create the proper lenses for the children.

I returned after my visit with the director there, to the Camp's center were the Conference ( a very mobile one) set up it's evening meeting while being fed by the camp inhabitants. There were over 250 of including about75 Palestinians. It was there, after a day of increasing amounts of information that defined the circumstances of the Palestinians and the Israelis, that the group birthed a new idea. After a passionate appeal from a Italian/American woman, and an appeal by a Nobel Prize Laureate from Ireland who was also a conference attendee, there was a call to show solidarity to the NGO's at Gaza the next day. Over 48 people signed up and met through the evening to plan the strategy. It was ageed that we would not try to get into the City, but would stand in peaceful solidarity with groups like OXFAM and Mercy. These groups by international law have the right to enter into the space to provide human asssistance. The press too, were there and unable to enter.

In short, the people are with out basics and the economy is in a shambles. According the Dr. with us, who works in reconstruction surgery there, 130 were killed last week during an incursing by IDF forces with 50 seriously wounded. Four to five people killed each day is not unusal. The prompt for such incursions, are the rocket fire, who no body encourages, and that do little damage. And while this form of violence cannot be condonned, the collective punishment the Israeli forces inflict can hardly be justified. Little of this information appears in our press.

We awoke at 5 am to take the bus ride to the coast. On the way, we generated our mission, confirmed our roles, and leadership, and rehearsed our actions. We also prepared for the worst case scenerio which included tear gassing, and other dispersing activities. We had become a pretty cohesive group. The risk for us that we could be deported straight away, and not allowed to return. The thought of that affecting Daoud or the Tent of Nations project was provoking.

When we arrived at the huge building that hides the City from road, one could hardly imagine what life was like for the million and half citizens behind the glass walls. Sound booms from overhead from Israeli jets were frightening, and the claims by the private security personnel behind the fences, often told us that it was a very dangerous place for us to be. We were in the car park outside the gate. Their appeals seem to be attempts to rid the place of us. We voted to stay put. The only persons in the lot were taxi drivers hoping to get passengers coming through the gates and charging them a hundred dollars apiece for a ride back to Tel aviv.

The non-government-organizations (NGOs) had all been denied entrance, including the medical doc with us. They decided to hold a meeting in the parking lot with chart paper and chairs they had brought with them, surrounded by the 48 of us and members of the European press. It was quite a scene.! One member of our group, a Nobel Peace Laureate from Ireland, talked with the BBC about why the conflict in this region must be solved soon with justice. Her speech was eloquent and moving from someone who knew about violence and its price for a society.

Prior to the meeting, we were told to gather against a wall separating us from gate, because the Palestinians were supposedly launching their rockets. It turns out it was another effort to make us leave. It didn't work! While we standing there in the hot sun of the morning, hutled together, I offered to share my poem "Walls, Lines, Fences and Borders". It seemed like an appropriate moment given the circumstances. I invited the group to repeat the montra, and they did. I felt great satisfaction in sharing the poem, but more, their partipation with me. It was a special time of sharing a personal moment together. The words of that meagre poem have such power for us all. It was a gift to me, and I hope one for others in the group. The walls of the gates of Gaza seemed to crack just a little. Love, Bill

Reconcilation: To victims engage each other

2008-11-16T13:59:00.000-05:00

A young Israeli soldier desired to join the Israeli army. He wanted to defend himself against the enemy. It was a question of survival. He was extremely fearful of losing his life and the life of his people

Josef, at age 10, was forced from his home in Poland along with his family in 1939. As they were being forced to march toward the Russian border, a Nazi soldier was not convinced that his father was walking fast enough. The soldier bayoneted his father in front him, and as young boy, he would never lose that image in his mind. The family was hearded into Trains by Russian soldiers and sent to Siberian prison camps. His mother died during that time.

Eventually, he made it to Israel in 1948 and joined the army when he was 18. He was afraid of not surviving, and felt a need to defend himself. In one of his assignments, his unit forced Palestinians out of their homes, and watched while some of his fellow soldiers commited atrocities with the villagers. He saw at that moment that acts that they were performing were the same ones the Nazis had done to his family, and could not face his work. He quit the army and fled to England.

Some years later he returned toIsrael and went to the village of Lyda, and found a survivor there, and expressed his apologies for the acts he may have commited.

I had no idea that such atrocities were being committed during the War of Independence, as the Israelis called it. There is little information available about such acts in our sources at home. The Nokba or disaster, was a mass exodus of 750,000 Palestinians to the north and east of the land. Some 512 Palestinian villages were destroyed. While reading the book by Fawal called On the hills of God, I began to read stories of the forced marches that the Palestinians experienced. Visiting some of the villages and hearing the stories from survivors was a powerful moment for me as we stood in the midst of the remains of the buildings.

At the end of Josef's talk which came from the heart and he expressed several times his sorrow for acts he may have committed against members of the audience that night. There were many Palestinians who were present, and there was a hushed silence. Finally, a man in his seventies in back of the room stood and said, I appreciate what you have said, but it is not enough. More people like you need to share their stories and express forgivenes. I accept your apology and wish you a long and healthy life. There were tears in every one's eyes.

This is just one experience of many powerful ones that I have heard this week. Memories was the theme of the first week in Nazareth. The impact is the theme for this week as we look at the occupation up close in Jerusalem.

Love to you, BIll

The Destroyed Villages and a People Removed

2008-11-15T02:45:00.000-05:00

Greetings from Nazareth!

There is not much time this morning at there are people waiting.

Yesterday, we visited four villages in Israel where Palestinians were forced to leave their homes and the land in 1948. In each village, a person who was lived there, told their story. It made the "Nokba even more powerful as the personal story always does. 750,000 people were driven out of their homes and 512 villages were destroyed. Little is discussed about this in our "data base" in the States. Yesterday, I heard a conversation by one of our participants with a Jewish couple with their children who were having a picnic on the grounds of a former village. When asked if they knew that this land was once inhabited by 4,ooo Palestinians, he said, "we know, and we don't like to be reminded" .

Tomorrow we leave for Jerusalem, and I will have access to an internet cafe. This computer is the only one around. See you on Monday. Love, Bill

"Jammed Tight" and Ready to Go!

2008-11-12T03:52:00.001-05:00

Good morning! This is third day in Jerusalem after a long flight from Washington to Vienna and the Tel Aviv, nearly fifteen hours of travel time, and most of that on fully packed airplanes that have not changed dimensions since WWI, I am told by my flying friends Frank and Bill. I don't do well with my long body, and inspite of my good fortune, I thought, to get an exit aisle seat near the the window on the first leg of the trip, it was a challenge. Little did I know, that while the head room between me and the bulk head was a larger space, the foot room was actually less. I was able to find some standing room in the next cabin of the 767 where I literally stood for an hour an a half at one time. It was my saving grace, because I was able to stretch nearly the whole time, and drink water which I have found to be the key to dealing with jet lag. I barely felt the effects, other than a shift in the time I slept which has now returned to normal after three days.

The second leg of the trip was not so comfortable, nor could I find a way of adapting to the conditions. That plane was fully loaded and I had a window seat in the back of the plane, and my "neighbor" in the middle seat was the last to board, and seemed really exhausted. He managed to stretch his six foot plus frame over in my direction, and had his head down on the meal shelf most of the time. I wasn't able to move him to get out for a stretch during the 3 and half hour flight. It was not pretty, but more about him later.

I spent the first two nights on the Mount of Olives, at a hotel called the Seven Arches at the very top of Mt. The view below of the Old City was amazing, and I rose early in the morning to see the sun rise and shine on the Dome of the Rock. Pretty spectacular and oh so serene as there was complete silence down below, both because of the time of the day and distance from the city below. All of this was quite the contrast to my ride, and I quickly recovered from the stresses pf airplane travel. Think I'll take the flying carpet back?

I spent the next two days, distributing medical books sent by Ravensworth Baptist friends in Annandale, a "sister church"; arranging pickup for the eye glasses sent by our church's mission group intended for the eye clinic in the Deheisheh Camp, relating to the delegate from Interfaith Peace Builders, the sponsors of my first trip her three years ago. The timing was quite by coincidence, even more incredible because we hosted two of the delegates in our own home last Saturday night. What an amazingly informed, and experienced group that delegation is! Many had years of work in the Middle East. There were four young members from the UK with them also. I enjoyed meeting and talking with them all around dinner, and even attended a lecture by Jeff Halper, whom many of you have read about or heard before. He is an American/Israeli Jew who directs the Israeli Coalition Against House Demolitions, as well as recent traveler on one of the Freedom Boats from Gaza. It was good hear him again. I now believe I have a better understanding of the facts on the ground, and the solutions to resolving the conflict which are simple, if only our government had the will to do so.

Back to time with the delegates here, and one quick story which reinforces my belief that there are no such things as co-insidence. One of the delegates asked me to convey $1,ooo to an American woman who was here for three months with the International Women's Peace Organization, a varied form of the Internation Solidarity Movement. They lead protests against the wall, stand at points with Palestinians, monitor house demolitions, and protect olive farmers by their prescence. They are very courageous people. They risk their lives to stand for justice beside the oppressed. Truly amazing souls. Well, my delegate friend used my phone to contact her because she herself will remain after delegation ends to spend time in the Women's Center, protesting unjust acts. She then asked me to talk with her. I was told her name was Razia. "Hmmm" I thought. "That sounds like a familiar name, and her voice did to". She said, on the other side," Is this Bill Plitt of Arlington?" Razia had slept in our house along with four other marchers against the Iraq war two years ago. What an amazing........! It was good to talk with her again and hear some incredibly powerful stories about her group of five women and their courage to stand up against dispicable acts of cruelty by the Israeli Defense Force.

Well, I will let this go for now. I leave aboard a bus in an hour for Nazareth. I am looking forward to that space too! God always surprises me on such ventures. Love, Bill

Preparing for the Experience Will Reveal New Learnings

2008-11-08T14:15:00.000-05:00

Dear Friends,
Now that I am packed (almost), I feel some excitement about this new trip to the Middle East. Some of the feeling is because of the election of Barack Obama. Our country and our world are hungry for change and for a responsiveness to the needs of our world community. I know when I speak to friends there, they will welcome me with that thought, as opposed to the responses we had in previous years when our country was headed down a darker path. I carry with me a renewed spirit in mankind, in part because of the election of Barack Obama and what that might mean to a world in great need of care. As he has said, it will take all of us with our oars in the water to bring the sea change that is needed.

I know God will reveal his love through the people I will meet in the days ahead. I look forward to their voices. love, Bill

As General Assembly Convenes

2008-06-21T09:53:00.001-04:00

Good morning from San Jose! I am glad that I arrived a day early to not only get used to the time change, but also prepare a bit before the pace picks up this morning. I feel like this part of my journey began way back in September when I filled out the application to return to Israel and the occupied territories. It said, " preference for applications will be given to those attending GA in June". Having had a desire to see our church as a denomination, the simultaneous application to be nominated as Elder Commissioner seemed "natural". Through the spiritual direction I receive from my church friends, my spiritual mates and my family, I've come to trust that these activities are not by coincidence. I continue to feel led by God in this extended journey to San Jose as the path here has seemed like a "greased trail" going down the mountain to the valley where the work is. I am humbled by this realization. Along the way, encounters feel close at hand and perhaps, destined. For example, I went to the Plenary session hall yesterday to get my bearings and to locate my seat. The place which will actually hold several thousand people today, saw just a trickle of technicians in its vastness. I found my seat through a "pedestrian" who was watching his wife rehearse a speech . My new friend offered to direct me to my seat, and as I learned, he was a veteran of 30 GA's and was a welcomed guest. My seat was located in the center of the hall, on the end of aisle of tables, near the microphone! Wow was that a message! He then suggested how I might use the location to speak from the heart about my encounters in the Middle East. Things seemed to be moving along "down the mountain to the Valley" out of my control, again. I continue to listen to the spirit that has carried me this far. Pray for courage and trust. Stay tuned! Bill

Departure for San Jose

2008-06-19T06:07:00.000-04:00

Good morning Friends,

I leave for the meeting at General Assembly with great anticipation about a new experience with the church as a body. I also am humbled by the responsibilities I am feeling with regards to the major issues facing us. My son Todd shared some wisdom the other day when I was feeling less than adequate. He said, "Dad, you are not going to change the world. This is a unique, once in a life time opportunity. Go and enjoy it. Listen and watch, you will know when to speak." So I go to watch, listen, and speak when the spirit moves me, but more I go to enjoy the moment. Thanks to all of you who are with me in spirit. Bill

In The Midst....

2007-12-17T05:10:00.000-05:00

Good morning, some three days after a 30 hour trip from my hotel in Amman, Jordan and a welcoming home in Arlington. I won't bore you with that story. It made coming home that much more appealing. I did long to be with Kay and the warmth of her love, as well with my church family who nurtured me along the way. Otherwise, there was no hurry. Savoring the experience began then, and continues today, and tomorrow, I suspect.

On that long flight from Amman, I was fortunate to have four seats in the rear of the plane to stretch out and sleep, as the plane was half empty. About two hours before we landed, I sat up and these words came to me:

IN THE MIDST

In the Midst of the Promised Land, live two peoples:
One controlling - one controlled.
But, in the end, have lost their souls:
one misguided - the other derided.
And our God weeps amongst the stones.

Within and out of the walls of concrete and steel,
Live two peoples - lost in fear:
One to feeling within itself -
And one who waits for the unknown that lies in some distant way….
And, the whole world weeps without knowing why.

Find, within the prison of the land itself,
The settlers surrounding what remains:
A vineyard, a farm, a spirit beyond belief
That challenges their presence without relief,
From energy spurred by countless souls
Who weep beside them - the living stones.

Who are the children amidst this land
Who’ve seen nothing new for decades now?
Within these walls, what they must claim
As a future, fades. They steadfastly exclaim,
“This is my home, my native land.
It’s here I’ve made my final stand.”
And God weeps and moans for the newest living stones.

In the mountains, valleys, and the seas
Lay those places where the pilgrims come
To see the ‘footsteps’ of one who practiced what he was.
The stone, the brick, and mortar, too,
Produce the walls of seasoned tones
To whispers, prayers, voices, and even a ‘harp’, too.
And our God weeps amongst the chorus.

What lies amidst the hearts and minds
Of soldiers who stand by the gates – defined -
Which are meant to withstand, contain and resist the threats
Of peoples who know no other way?
As soldiers, here and there, raise two fingers in the form of ‘V’,
In hopes of peace, harmony that might release
The guilt, the embarrassment, the regret that they must feel.
And, our God weeps beside them.

Bill
December 2007

And the Olive Trees of Daher's

2007-12-11T13:07:00.000-05:00

Whoops! I lost the blog, but will continue.

So, the planting at the "fence" was a real celebration, and documented by the group with pictures. That portion of the land will live for another day, perhaps until the settlers come again to erase the only proof that the farmers have that they are farming the land -their land. To not do so, means they lose it.

Back at Dahers', I finished the planting of the family trees on the north side of Daher's 100 acre farm, now surrounded by new settlements since I was here last. I remained on the slope with the planting until nearly sun set. As I completed my work, and looked across the valley to the West, where one could almost make out the Med. Sea. I took out my harmonica, as I have done many times these last few weeks at very special moments, and played some songs of peace and love. I could almost hear the echo from the hills across the way where one of the settlements stood at the top of the ridge on prime land. Daher was off to attend a funeral of a friend in Beit Jala. His mother, Maladie and two young volunteers from Germany, who were doing alternative civil service, and I, joined together for a dinner around the outside fire place where most meals are prepared and eaten. The Israelis still haven't granted permission for electicity and water, but the Nasser family persist anyway. What enormous patience they show in the face of overwhelming power. Let us hope that the Israeli courts end this struggle by granting them their rights to their own land. In the meantime, they persist.

That evening we all hung out on the porch of their house, the two German volunteers and one Austrian woman who had been doing volunteer work since last April, smoked from a water pipe together. After a meal of fruits and vegetables from the farm, we huddled closer to the fire for heat, as the days are warm, and the nights are chilly. I borrowed Daoud's guitar and we sang songs, including Christmas carols and such for a few hours before retiring to bed, after a long but amazing day. It felt good to be "on the land" as Daoud says. It is such a peaceful place, an unlikely contrast to what goes on outside his farm, where settlers hover to absorb every acre they can. I can't help believe that justice will prevail.

See you in a few days.. Love, Bill

Solidarity for the live farmers at Beit Omar and Nehalin

2007-12-11T12:28:00.000-05:00

Just found out my flight was delayed 8 hours, so I will be here another day. It is probably good in some ways, as I was working on the farm of Daher this morning, pruning trees, feeding the animals, and completing the planting of seven trees for the family, and a one for a fellow traveler, and then, as an afterthought, one for our President, with a sign saying" Please bring peace with justice for all in this land".

As was the case last year, extending my stay so that I could travel alone was a good decision and resulted in a separate experience beyond what a wonderful pilgrimage had offered. I described the experience with the family in Beit Sahour in the previous blog. The meeting with the Deheisheh staff was an hour late, and many of the women staff members had gone home by the time I had been able to negotiate my way from Ramallah. I meet with the some of the health committee staff, the U.N adminstrator for the camp, and the registraar for all the 130,000 refugees in the camps of the West Bank. It was an interesting meeting, under a tent in a local resturant outside the camp, complete with the water pipe and endless cigarette smoking which I didn't take part in, of course, but did experience the secondary effects, unfortunately. It was a fruit ful visit, and I was able to establish a personal relationship with the key staff, if the Mission and Service Ministry decides to go forward in its partnership. There are many needs in the camp, and they are doing miracles with what they have to work with. I then road the taxi with the staff in charge of the youth program, as he was going my way back to Beit Sahour. My family was waiting there for a last meal and final good byes. Other friends in Beit Jala, were disappointed that I was not arriving at the time I had said I would. Arab hospitality is an amazing force. After some wonderful food, and some tearful goodbyes, I head to the other side of Bethlehem to visit with Amal's family.

They were eager to share their experinces of the last year since I was there, including a wedding for Monjed, and a bout with cancer by Fameih. The hour of videos of wedding dances was a cultural experienc, not unlike here when proud parents show "their pictures -just a few"! The next day, Fameih I had tea together before the others rose. It was a courageous story of her battle with breast cancer and under the stress of the occupation which makes the struggle with the disease pale in comparison. We also talked about establishing an distribution system with folks in America who might be interested in supporting the sale of the embroidery work of many women in the area. I bought several pieces of her work. Those of you who admired the wall hanging by Fameih, can purchase one like it. They are masterpieces, and go a long way to support the families of women in the local villages. Monjed, whom I contracted last year as a free lance photo journalist, to some videos on topics of importance. He share two tapes which I will bring back with me, one about the Israeli Prison system , and the children in the camp of Deheisheh who were greatly affected by the tank invasion in 2003. Both are gripping.

Following some quality time with friends their, I took the bus south to the vineyard of Daher. some of you met with Daoud, his brother when he was a Trinity church. I had planned to go there at the end of the trip to work on the farm, and plant some olive trees. I was able to do that and more. The Presbyterian Peace Fellowship delegates "commissioned" me to go to the village of Beit Omar, with members of the Holy Land Trust and the children of that village to plant trees along the base of the "security" fence, where they had been recently uprooted by settlers and soldiers. The land belongs to a farmer in the village and through the myriad of requirements the Palestinians have to meet to maintain ownership, including tending to the trees inside their land and on the other side of the "fense". Figure that one out.

The planting of the trees there, became a festival sorts, as we carried the trees through the village, children came out of the wood works to join us. Many of them took part in the planting. We were just about five feet from the "fence", on the farmer's land, and as we completed the planting a settler patrol truck, followed by a few soldiers, approached on the other side. By that time, we had finished planting the twelve trees for the delegates, and the farmer had twelve children of the village stand by each one as we

A Land of Love, Care and Courage

2007-12-09T08:02:00.001-05:00

Dear friends,

This will be a short report, as I need to return by bus from Ramullah to meet with the directors of the Ibdaa Health Committee in Deheisheh Refugee camp. I have had wonderfu rentry to the country from Jordan, and spent the night with my host family who insisted I stay with them last night. We had lunch which was wonderfully prepared, and the encouraged to take a nap. For me this was a welcomed activity as it had taken me six hours to negotiate the travel from Amman to Bethelehem through the check points. I waited anxiously at the border while the Iserali security held my passport and, sent numerous soldiers to interview me with many of the same questions. I thought for awhile I would be denied entry.

So, a nap was welcomed. The family planned to include me on a Saturday night tradition, of staying up until mid night when the hot bread was prepared, before hitting the streets the next day. It was worth waiting for as we sang songs (not me - played my harp to a new middle easter sound) to the beat of a egyptian aoud (11 strings) and celebrations by all of the extended family of some 12 people, and me. Got up early and went to the Church of Nativity and joined in on a Roman Catholic service where I meditated by calling to focus all the faces of people I have met these last two weeks. It was a review of some special moments. The generosity of the people I have met on the streets and in the homes as been overwhelming. I am grateful for their love.

I will try to write one more time when I reach Jordan on Tuesday night. I will leave in the morning to plant olive trees for a farmer whose land is about to be sucked up by the settlers. Each you will who follow me wherever I go, will have a tree in your name. The Presbyterian Felllowship companions have launched me on this mission. I am but a vehicle. Love, Bill

Crossing the Borders

2007-12-07T14:32:00.001-05:00

Well, you might have been reading the best piece I've written, but after typing it out late last night, I pushed the wrong button and lost the whole piece. But trust me, it was good! :^)

We left Israel on Thursday morning after having spent a wonderful time in a small hotel which we had for ourselves (tourism is down - and it needn't be), at the top of the hill in Nazareth. Our movement across the border was fairly smoothe by Israeli standards. One of our group was singled out and questioned about his appearance - beard and braid, the nature of his trip and other questions that seemed probing and invasive. One can only surmise that it was another data gathering device used to monitor the activities of groups like ours.

The purpose of the day ws to visit the ancient ruins fo the Roman city of Jeresh which has been carefully reconstructed to portray life for its citizens some 2,000 years ago. After about an hour and half ride from the border, we had lunch at the entrance to the city, and walked the main street of the city which took over 300 years to develop. The street was lined with massive pillars, some taller than others which indicated the importance of the place. To the right of the entrance was a huge track that still has a yearly comemorative race and the end of which the loser is not executed as might have been done during Roman times. One could almost imagine the furor on the track as teams of horses raced around and around. The theatre with the capacity of 5,000 sat high on the hill above the city where attendees might have watched Greek drama or some kind of entertainment. The forum in teh center, was a large space that led to a long street, some 4,000 meters long. The structures of the market, the bathes and various temples were some of the principal buildings there. One could almost imagine the din of activity on market day. Those among us who have traveled to Rome indicated that these ruins were the most extensive they had seen in Italy. The power of the Roman Empire was so evident in the massive stone arcles and walls of granite and limestone. What an experience!

We then traveled back to Amman for an hour, passing the rich agricultural valleys below with their fields of fruit trees that looked like the occupied territories might have appeared before the 1967.

In the ening, befoe a wonderul meal of fresh veggies and stewed chicken, we heard from the leader of the Malkite church in the region and was inspiring as he talked about ways he has worked to build an interfaith dialogue with Muslims and other Christians in Jordan.

Today we worshipped in East Amman at an Orthodox Greek church and met with the elders of the church who expressed their disgust for American foreign policy which has created a disaster for the Arabs in the region. Later in the afternoon we met with two IRAQI refugees who shared their stories, and talked about the work they did for some of the more than 1 million Iraqis in the region.

I leave in the morning for the West Bank and a mandate by our group to plan olive trees on behalf of Presbyterian Peace Fellowship. Talk with you when I return on Tuesday. LOVE AND PEACE TO YOU THIS DAY. bill

A Day in the Paths of Jesus' Walk to Justice

2007-12-05T15:59:00.000-05:00

Well today was a bit of break from the intense visits in the besieged cities, with their checkpoints, walls, fences, and oppressed peoples. We traveled down from the ridge of the City of Nazareth to the base where we walked around the Basilica of the Annunciation where Mary was believed to have received the call from God. Whether you believe this is the actual place or not, is your choice. I feel content that this is a special place and the miracle could have occured here. As I have with every sacred space we have visited, I have felt compelled to pull out my harp and play some hymn or song that comes to mind, be that "Michael Row your boat ashore"or "Here I am Lord". Today, I stumbled across two violinists standing near the chapel of Tabgha. I pulled out my harp, and looked for places where I could harmonize with them. It was delightful - at least for a few moments. In any case the accoustics in these chapels and churches is special and I find God more in those moments than in others along our tour.

We traveled to Tiberius also, where Jesus is to have preached in the synagogue and visited the remains of the home of Peter. We also went to the Mount of Beatitudes where Jesus delivered the Sermon on the Mount. Here we read the scripture together where Walt gave a short explication, and we traded interpretations as we faced the Sea of Galilee on the most beautiful day since we arrived. Later we went to Tabgha where he is believed to have fed the hungry with loaves and fishes. By then it was lunch time and we nearby for some fish from the sea and fresh vegetables and fruit from nearby fields at a seaside restaurant by the Galilee. What a beautiful body of water, nestled between the mountains and hills. We all of course, took the opportunity to dip our feet in the Sea, and generally laughed and enjoyed the day. The group has worked well together, and after a night where we had walked a half mile because the "flying" Israeli checkpoint prevented us from reaching an Israeli bus that we were exchanging for our Palestinian one, this was a pleasant break for the soul. (I forgot to mentioned that we were further delayed at the Israeli check point by young soldiers who held us up for nearly an hour while they searched our records, even though we had full permissions for what we were doing. It was yet another experience of humiliation and frustration that many Palestinians endure each day.)

In the afternoon, we drove to Golan Heights where we climbed high, upwards to Mt. Hermon (at nearly nine thousand feet) in occupied SYRIA, where stopped off in a Caesaria Phillipi where the worshippers of the pagan temple, constructed by the Emperor, paid homage to Pan. It is a beautiful place, hewn out of the side of the mountain, and surrounded by pristine mountain streams, still cold from the snow melt above.

Lastly, we arrived small Syrian village high in the Occupied territory there. The villagers are Druizs who have lived there as the occupied since the 1967 war. The director of a self help project there, that is transforming the way people receive health care, educate their youth and respond to the uprooting of olive trees, in a very creative way that has both Syrian and Israeli support. It was an inspiring moment to hear his story, and know of the difference his organization is making for the people in his village. I wonder if he would be as sucessful as those on the west bank who are surrounded by the Wall? Anyway, it is possible to resist the occupation in a non-violent way. I continue to be amazed and encouraged by those who stay the course.

Tomorrow, we had to Jordan for a visit with refugees from Iraq, and visit the ancient Roman site of Jerush. Should be quite a day. I will be returning to Bethlehem on Saturday to begin my visit with potential partners for our church community. I will also head down to the village of Nehalin to plant some olive trees at Daher's orchard before heading home myself.

Again, it is nearly twelve at night and after a long, but satisfying day. Thanks for your thoughts and prayers.

Peace, Bill

Visits with Families Bring Comfort and Concern

2007-12-04T15:54:00.001-05:00

After a morning of worship in Jerusalem, and meeting with the Bishop of Jerusalem about the status of Christians in the Holy Land, we took a contrasting tour of Tel Aviv and the old city of Jaffa on the Med. Sea. What breath of fresh air, after more than a week of experiencing the occupation. If you only experienced life in these coastal cities, you would think that all is well, for the places are void of walls, checkpoints, and by past roads and settlers. But that is not what is going on behind the walls, and within the hearts and souls of Israelis and Palestinians.

On the way back to Bethlehem, we prepared for two nights with our host families. The anticipation was a little unsettling, but after meeting the families in their homes we knew that these moments would be special. I was assigned alone to a family of three that grew to twenty pretty quickly. Jerius, Rodina and baby Loudra quickly wisked me off my feet with the over the top Arab hospitality. Nothing was too much to make me comfortable. Four month old Loudra, even slept through the night and when awake, charmed all of our hearts.

Rodina and Jerius speak more than adequate English, and far better than the few words I have learned in their language. Rodina teaches English to young children as it is a requirement for them to learn at least two languages. She is deeply frustrated by the level of violence that she sees in her students as they act out the impact of the occupation in the classroom. She finds it impossible to control, and efforts to do so have been fruitless. How can the young people not act out what they see each day?

Jerius works with olive wood and does quite well when he gets orders. He is a loving father and just adores his young daughter. At age 17, he was imprisoned for two years for throwing rocks at an Israeli jeep. Those two years disturbed not only his education, which Palestinians value highly, but left it's mark in many ways. Though he fully understands what he did was wrong, he seems almost oblivious to the grim experience he had those months, and the feelings about the helplessness he and many others feel at their lack of control over lives and destiny. It's almost like, oh, "at is to expected under present occupation". The collective oppression of the Palestinian people, and scaring of the Israeli soul casts a heavy pall on the land.

Still, there are many stories of hope with glimpses of soldiers who understand what they do, and the farmers who express their frustrations through patient, non violence resistance.

A case in point, while we were in the City of Hebron yesterday and passing through the security gates to Harem Abrahami Mosque, our guide was refused entry by the Army soldier, in his early 20'.s The conversation went something like this between them. Soldier withM-16 in his hands, "Count the number of Americans in your group." The Guide: "they're in front of you". Y"You count them said the soldier, I've got the power." Palestinian Guide: "No" What power do you have over me." I've got the gun", says the young soldier. No, said the guide, "'ve have my God".

"Then you can't go in" continued the guard. "Fine", said our Guide, I am a human being not a thing."

The humiliation our guide faced in our presence is what many in the Occupied Lands experience every day. It is no surprise that there both violence, and depression in the land.

Then their is young Loudra, who smiles in her father's arms, and when I hold her she coos, "while the whole world around her weeps". We pray for a better world for Loudra and the Children of both Palestinian and Israeli children.

It' been 18 hours since I rose this morning. Tomorrow we visit some of the sacred spaces around Nazaraeth, and I long for some moments of quite reflection in those places, and oh yes, a few magic moments with my harp within those hallowed walls of ancient churches. It is magical. Love , Bill

More About the "Little" town

2007-12-01T15:59:00.000-05:00

I got up early this morning and took a walk from Beit Sahour, a suburb of Bethlehem. The town sits on the top of a hill, so it's a good cardio vascular workout which is greatly needed bccause of the intensity of our meetings each day. We spend a lot of time listening and questioning our hosts. As I walk, people are out sweeping their sidewalks and cleaning their areas. They stop moment to return my "Marhaba", with a "Ahlan or "welcome". I see lots of school children on the way, and they too are friendly so early in the morning. Education is very much valued by the Palestinians and the children seem very animated and motivated. I return after nearly making it to the church of nativity, before I head back to the small family hotel we are staying at.

The morning is filled with a walk through one of the three refugee camps in Bethlehem (what would Jesus think?) There over two thousand people living there since 1948 and half are children. We are led on the tour by one of the non-violent trainers that work with Holy Land Trust, a conflict management center directed by Sami Awad whom we met that morning at his center. The camp is active on a Saturday morning and we are followed through the narrow walk ways around the four acres of the camp which are now no longer tents, but concrete block houses stacked four stories high to accommodate families of ten or more. They are still quite dependent on UN assistance, and claim their "guest" status as to do otherwise, denies their claim to their homes that they were extracted from in 1948. Each person we meet, as has been the case all week has a story about injustice, and their fading home to return to the land. The also don't have much faith that the Israelis want peace, and that the Palestinians will receive justice.

In afternoon, we travel south to visit Beit Jahar which is a Palestinian village of 15,000 that is beseiged by an expanding Settlement to the north. Yesterday it was the scene of a demonstration that we were to participate in, but decided not, at the last minute, as it would have jeopardized out visit with the neighboring settler. Apparently, the village was not use to seeing foreigners, as it seemed that half the village turned out to see us. We met with the mayor, and other leaders in the community and heard their story. They were very proud of their youth, and have over 500 students at the local university. We went over to see the sight of their Student Forum, which is a place located in the old part of the town. The elders decided that the youth should have the space because it connects the young with their rich heritage. Most of the town are employed in the stone quarry, and get little pay for very hard work. The adults want more for their children.

In the evening, I as able to invite Amal Nasser, sister of Daoud who is worshipping at my home church in Arlington tomorrow, or rather attending a pot luck in the evening. The Tent of Nations is located on a farm not far from Bethlehem, high in the highlands where fruits and olive trees are nurtured. Amal's family story is a rich one as they struggle with settlers now on four sides, and the Israeli courts. You can log on to their sight at Tentofnations.com

Well, my faithful friend, it's 11:30 P.M and time to turn in. Tomorrow we worship in Jerusalem and then on to Tel Aviv for a tour before spending a few nights with some Palestinian families. It has been quite a day. Love, BIll

Oh Little Town of Bethlehem, how sweet....

2007-11-30T15:45:00.000-05:00

dear friends,

This may be a real short report as others are waiting for the computer. We visited a Israeli settler this morning in a settlement outside of Bethlehem. My friends, and recent delegates, Mike and Judy White can well identify with the experience having recently met him themselves on a trip there. He was very articulate about his reasons for being on the land, and while "sympathetic" to the suffering there, and what has happened since 67, he felt that many of the claims of the Palistinians were unjustified. He spoke little about the illegal nature of the occupation. Finally getting to meet a settler after two visits here, filled in the picture for me. Intractible is the word that comes to mind. I was discourage by the pessimism of both peoples here. The settler,however, felt that his settlement would not be dismantled, and therefore, was not worried. The Palistinians, on the other hand, are very pessimistic. They feel that they, under the occupation have everything to lose and that their leadership is weak and will not represent them well.

I must sign off. Will talk with you tomorrow. Love and peace, Bill

Annapolis and beyond

2007-11-28T10:22:00.000-05:00

Today was a heavy day with visits with two very articulate and scholarly gentlemen; one from Sabeel and the other from Musalaha, a group who believes that "as conflict in the Holy land persists, Israelis nd Palstininians find themselves in the midst of a violent and intractible struggle. Years of coflict between our peoples have allowed a process of dehumanization of the "other". Believers are also impacted by the cycle of fear, violence and hatred. Thus reconcilition has become one of the central issues with the body of the Messiah". Salime and leaders of messianic Israeli and Palestinian christian communities lead groups of Israeli and a Aalestinian men on desert trips together to learn about each other and discuss their common values. The gentleman from Sabeel suggested the Peace process now being discussed in practical way avoids the core values of the Christian faith: peace, non use of weapons, human rights and non discrimination because of race. He says unless the discussions are around these core values, nothing will be achieved. The rest of the after noon was spent on a tour by the ISRAELI committee against House demolitions which showed how the Israeli government is incrementally building settlements which will establish more 'facts on the ground" that prevent the Palestinians from living on the land. A closing on a positive note is that none of this need happen if we as Americans object. The work is ahead of us. BILL

A day in the City of Jerusalem

2007-11-27T10:55:00.001-05:00

We walked around the old city today, and several places were new for me including the pools of Bethesda. A special moment came when we as a group took our turn singing in the Byzantine church of St. Ann's. We sang some hymns together in the 800 year old church nearby the the healing waters where Jesus was believed to have healed. I just happened to have one of my harps with and the accoustics were truly amazing. It was a shared moment, as we were joined in the end by some thirty Koreans, also Presbyterians. I will cut my report some tonight, as I must move on to hear Romi ElaHonen talk about the bereaved parents association. His voice is a powerful one around the issue of suffering, as he has given the most with the lost of his daughter by a suicide bomber. Love, bill

Thoughts on the Palestinian dimension

2007-11-26T11:09:00.000-05:00

GREETINGS, FRIENDS FROM JERUSALEM!

We arrived in Jerusalem this evening after leaving Jordan this morning; lunch in the City of Jerrico, and time on the Mount of Olives, neither of which we did last year. What I learned from the stay in Jordan is that the Palestinian dimension of the equation is much larger than the West Bank and Gaza. It is whereever Palestinians were forced to go that carries the energy, including to Jordan. Intellectually, I knew this, but it didn't compute until now. Those Palestinians who have made it in other places, still carry memories of the spaces that were once theirs, hence the broader interest. The dynamics must be a little like what Jews feel for land of Israel, minus the physical presence that Palestinian refugees experience, which seems a huge difference upon reflection. We are staying at the Glorio Hotel, one of the Crusader places within the Old City. It is a wonderful feeling to see the international nature of this town, with Jews, Muslims and Christians roaming the city the area together. We will be here through Wednesday and into Thursday before heading to Bethlehem.

Haven't heard anything from any of the potential bloggers. Am wondering if they have the right address, or a bit afraid to hang out in space.
BILL

2007-11-25T09:29:00.000-05:00

Today we worshiped with an Episcopalian community. An English and an Arabspeaking priest led the service. The scripture was taken from Matthew and focused on "the peacemakers", interestingly enough. The sermon, which we received a copy of, was on peace with justice. I don't believe in coincidence, as my Quaker friend reminds me, it is not just coincidence. (notice the name of blog. Perhaps the priest caught my blog -nahhh?)

Having communion with the congregation was special in this beautiful church, located on the ridge of one of Jordan's many hills. Afterwards, we had a wonderful brunch and a panel discussion where heard from a former member of the Senate and advisor to the King; the director of Hospitals, and a political candidate who was a specialist on the refugee problem here. Clearly they were all wanting us to hear about their perspective on the impact of the war in Iraq on their economy and social system. They feel very much alone in addressing the needs of the Iraqis whom they refer to benevalently as "guests". They don't feel they are being heard by others in the world,even isolated. They are also not very optimistic about the Peace meeting in Annapolis because they feel that the U.S inequivalically supports the Israeli position on all the major issues. They maybe right.

Tomorrow, we leave Jordan for Jerusalem. I've learned much from our hosts here. I look forward to talking with you from the old city where we will be staying. Peace, Salaam,Shalom, Bill

2007-11-24T15:19:00.000-05:00

Greetings from Amman. We arrived after a long flight to find a beautiful moon and welcoming people. We had wonderful mideastern dinner with the Office Director of the Middleast Council of Churches, who gave us an inspiring challenge to address the rising needs of the Iraqi refugees who are living in Jordan and elsewhere. The Church Council has been dealing with the daily needs, but feels it is those who invaded Iraq who need to "step forward. As the Jordanians, They can not do it alone. She thanked us for our presence here. Tomorrow we walk to worship with members of the episcapalian church a few blocks away and have lunch with them. So far, so good. Thanks for your prayers and support. Bill

2007-11-22T10:29:00.000-05:00

Tomorrow I leave with your blessings. I go, not out of any sense of nobleness, but with humility, as I seek to express my faith, and find hope with people who struggle in the midst of despair to bring about peace with justice for all. I go to seek ways in which I can share my experience with my faith community and friends at home. I go to seek ways to partner with persons there and at home. And finally, I go for adventure of the kind that have blessed me since my days with Peace Corps, and beyond, and have continued to freshen my life in new and exciting ways.

2007-11-15T17:06:00.000-05:00

Greetings to friends and supporters,

This is the site I will use to share my experiences in Israel and the Occupied Palestinian Territories during Advent with you and others. Glad you've decided to come along. We will begin transmitting on November 24th when we arrive in Amman, Jordan. Bill