Tantur Ecumenical Institute, which will be our home for the next three weeks, is an extraordinary place. Constituted by the Catholic Church, Tantur is first a study center with a substantial library where scholars from around the world (that would be Suzanne!) come to further their research.
Secondly, Tantur is a meeting ground for Christians, Jews, Muslims, Israelis and Arabs with the hope of gaining mutual understanding and bridging the gap between religions and peoples. There are seminars, field trips, daily worship services, and common meals. It's a rich and welcoming environment.Our apartment is simple yet comfortable, and I can already tell that the majority of our apartment time will be spent enjoying the luxurious cool breezes of Jerusalem (it even gets a bit chilly at night) and gazing out over the hill tops, as I am doing now. It's very pleasant and reminds me of how much I enjoy mountainous landscapes and cool summer nights. We all find ourselves glad to be here.
Our porch looks out over Bethlehem, a Palestinian Territory, which is less than ½ mile from Tantur. We can easily see the 30-foot tall separation barrier Israel is building in Bethlehem (yes, the wall is several hundred yards into Bethlehem on one side and protrudes in on another side in order to keep Rachel's tomb under Israeli control) as well as all the requisite checkpoints needed to enter. Our hosts at Tantur assured us it was safe and our family ventured out on a foot tour of Bethlehem to see the Church of the Nativity (where Jesus was born), Lutheran Christmas Church and its International Bethlehem Center (I would highly recommend reading about this powerful ministry in Bethlehem Besieged by Mitri Raheb), and if we had time -- Bethlehem Bible College.
Once past this ugliness we strolled the thin lanes of ancient Bethlehem only to find ourselves nearly alone except for the rhythmic approach of taxi drivers practically begging us for a fare. Bethlehem has beautiful old homes, churches of carefully sculpted rock, a growing Muslim population, and an annihilated economy. Each street showed hundreds of closed up shops. Every restaurant had many open tables. Tourist parking decks were empty. The one souvenir shop we visited (more on this later) had only the Henderson family as customers for the whole hour we were there. They were so delighted to have us that they went out and bought us all Cokes!
Even with the wall, the checkpoints, and the constant threat of occupation, the whole Bethlehem area -- and particularly the Church of the Nativity -- has a mystical holiness to it. When I looked out at the sky at night and considered the angels' announcement of our Lord's birth, it was easy to imagine the shepherds running with haste over the hills to Bethlehem. To stand on the ground where our Lord first took human form brought a sense of awe at the miracle of it all. It felt like hallowed ground and I was grateful for the opportunity to be here once again.
After the Church of the Nativity we traipsed uphill about 200 yards to the Lutheran Christmas Church whose Pastor, Mitri Raheb, has done an extraordinary job mobilizing his own congregation as well as denominations -- even governments -- across the world to serve the growing needs of the Palestinian population. Through its International Bethlehem Center this church offers peace camps, computer training, soccer, basketball, table tennis, chess, beading, swimming, and art classes -- mosaic, ceramic and graphic. It is quite inspiring to see the Christian faith combat the forces of violence and desperation with hope, education, recreation, and a demonstrated commitment to equip young people with viable skills for their future. Once again, I was impressed by the strength of the Christian faith and the expansiveness of its call. Be it east Greensboro, the Mukuru slums of Nairobi, or oppressed streets of Bethlehem, there is through faith the call to love and the impulse to serve. Indeed, one of the great joys of this time is to see the myriad -- seemingly infinite variety -- of ways the Christian faith embodies to meet human need.
We had time to drop in unannounced at Bethlehem Bible College and (through the power of your prayers for us) ran into the dean of students, Alexander Awad. Dr. Awad is a Palestinian from Bethlehem whose family has mostly emigrated to the United States. In fact, he travels under a U.S passport and is a paid missionary back to Bethlehem by the United Methodist Church of the United States. This gentle man took our whole family on an hour and half tour of this small Bible college and shared some of their work in the community. I would love to share with you much of what he said, but for purposes of time will organize my thoughts around two ideas that emerged as our whole family sat in the president's office and shared refreshments
First, Bethlehem Bible College has been traditionally supported by the more evangelical churches of the America. This was evident from plaques around the seminary recognizing their contributions. However, he said, "In the past five years the evangelical churches have begun to identify so closely with the Zionist movement in America that support for work with Palestinians has been drastically reduced. This religious/political shift has hurt the work of our Bible College badly." He cited a recent visit to North Carolina to lecture at Duke Divinity School. While in Durham, he spoke at numerous area churches about the challenges facing the Palestinian Christians. After one of his talks at a Presbyterian church, the host minister took him to lunch and challenged some of his assertions. Dr. Awad invited this minister to come to the Holy Lands and see for himself. The minister replied, "If I visit Israel, it will be with a rabbi." You could see the confusion in the eyes if this dignified man: Christian and Palestinian, missionary with the Methodist church, yet no longer a worthy cause for many previously supportive Christian congregations. It was a paradox I had not previously considered.
Finally, I asked him what a Presbyterian congregation in the United States might do to help the work of his college. I couldn't have been more surprised by his answer. He brightened, sat up straight, and said, "I speak as a Palestinian who desires peace. You should be tremendously proud of your denomination's stance on divestment from companies that profit from construction of the wall. It is the greatest thing you could do and took great moral courage. We thank you."
"Why," I asked. "Why is that the greatest thing we could do?"
"Because in making a decision that courageous, people will ask you why. They will want to know. And when they discover the facts, they will be confronted with the truth of our situation."
We thanked him profusely for his time, assured him of our prayers, and left far richer for the experience.
I'm aware that there are many perspectives on the divestment decision and some quite strongly held. Yet, as a leading church in our denomination, it is worth listening to some honest sharing from voices that are least easily heard and give them the opportunity to shape our opinions.
Five minutes more down the road on foot and five more taxi entreaties we found the gift shop we had to ourselves (mentioned in yesterday's blog entry) and dropped in. It turns out it was the same gift shop the Westminster Trip visited 5 years ago. The proprietor treated Suzanne and me like we were his own children and our own children like they were his grandchildren. After refreshments, giving us several gifts of merchandise, showing us a picture of his own children, he offered us a ride to the border. We declined and chose to continue our walking tour. That's when the fun started.
Walking down Caritas ("Grace" in Greek) Street, a substantial way into Palestinian territory -- Will and Abbie admiring their new key chains given them, Hannah the necklace given her -- I looked up to see and flank of Israeli soldiers 25 yards in front of us making an incursion into Bethlehem. Rifles ready, helmets low over their eyes, they surrounded the next intersection. Suddenly they crouched behind their respective walls, peering carefully around the corners, listening to their radios. Off they went, quietly, quickly, clearly in pursuit of someone.
Stunned, we froze where we were for just a moment, and then they came back. Again, the soldiers were scanning the buildings above, protecting themselves behind walls, crouching low, ready for action.
We unfroze quickly this time, gathered our children, and without drawing any attention to ourselves, scurried back to the store proprietor who had shown us such generosity, asking him of this was normal. "No," he said, "but not unusual. I will take you to the border." So this Palestinian shop proprietor loaded us in his car, drove right by the IDF forces still making their incursion, dropped us off at the wall, and wished us God's blessing. It was a mere taste of what has happened in that community for the last four years. A taste I don't need to try again.
So that was our day. If you're still with this rather lengthy epistle, keep us in your prayers as we wonder what might happen tomorrow.
Peace,
Bob
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