Dear Holy Land Tourist Lady,

An infant car seat,
saved from the bulldozers

I used to be just like you. Five years ago, with my fanny pack and sensible walking shoes I trudged up the Via Dolorosa in the Old City - imagining what those last moments of Jesus' life might have been like, before the world changed. I remember the comfort of the tour bus, and how our guides were always telling us to drink more water.

I bet you paid a lot of money for this life changing trip. And I understand why... here before you is the Sunday School play set of your childhood dreams! When you close your eyes, and listen very carefully, you can imagine what it might have been like to be here when Jesus walked the earth. Did you wonder, as you passed that hill, if it was one that he walked?

Rubble from the
demolished 2-family home

Listen... your Holy Land adventure will never be complete until you come with me. Travel the dusty, narrow road just a few miles away through Silwan and up a steep hill to the village of Jabal Al Mukabbir you will find a pile of rubble. That pile of stones are no more or less holy than the ones you just saw at the Wailing Wall when you crammed in the little bits of paper prayers your church friends sent with you. Prayers for healing, prayers for comfort, prayers for peace.

This pile of stones was a two story double family house at 3:59 this morning. That's when the soldiers came and woke the ten children under 8 - they are just babies. At 4, it began to be a pile of rubble. That's when the bulldozers revved their engines and caused two sets of young parents to scramble around and try to move their small children and every last little piece of their belongings to safety outside.

The two oldest children, no more than 8,
help load items into a truck

At 6 am is when the relatives and friends began to show up, carrying their condolences and offerings to help. When we arrive a few hours later, they will have determined a system. First, they will offer you a chair in the shade of an impromptu tent. Then they will thank you for coming, and offer you a cold bottle of water. After a few minutes they tell you some of their story, and you will be given a strong cup of Arabic coffee followed by a cool and sweet mint tea.

The grandfather, the patriarch on whose land you stand, will tell you that he had a lawyer and paid the steep fines for building without a permit. "This is the Occupation, what can we do?" he says. He will point to the rubble and tell you that this is the true terrorism, and you will nod your head knowingly because it sure seems random and violent and scary to you.

Destroyed child's bike

Let me tell you, it will definitely feel a little awkward when you look in the eyes of the oldest two children who saw the bulldozers topple their home and you will see they are as strong as grown men. These boys should be in school, but since their bags and books are in the bottom of the rubble they are here to get you a chair and serve you tea instead. One of them is wearing new soccer cleats, because those were the first he could grab before running out of the house. His father says to you "my son is six, he sees his house demolished, of course he will want to start problems when he is 16!" 

Household items the family saved

When you have stayed long enough to pay your respects, you'll return to your safe place thinking that this holy land is broken. And you'll wonder if the world has any idea, and if they do, why isn't someone doing something, anything, to make it stop? And the echo of the grandfather's last words to you as you were leaving become a mantra that you cannot forget: "Thank you for coming, tell the world what you see here!"

A Tale of 2 Healthcares

Today I did something I didn't want to do... admitted I was vulnerable. I hate doing that. It's the worst. I'm supposed to be the strong one.

I've been here in Jerusalem for 50 days, and most of those 50 days have been spent walking between 4-6 miles on hard bumpy stone and up/down uneven steps. My family (and pretty much anyone who sees me on a bad day) know that from time to time my knees flare up. They have for years - it's nothing new.

We also expected that much of my time here would be spent walking, so I did the right things to prepare. On the application and in the interviews and training I disclosed that my knee pain was a potential problem, I sought medical attention from my PCP before the trip, Her verdict was that because of recent weight loss the structure of my knees had shifted, but with time and exercise I'd be fine. Walking 5 miles a day would be the BEST thing for me! So I went to physical therapy, a chiropractor and trained at the YMCA to get stronger. I must have been committed, since the co-pay and deductibles cost about $2,000.

This is not a post in which I intend to make you feel sorry for me, gentle reader. There are still many, many difficulties suffered every day by people who cannot pass a checkpoint to get to the hospital on time to deliver a baby or make their chemo appointment in the better-appointed Israeli hospitals. That's a huge issue over here.

And this post is maybe a little self-indulgent. Because my knees, ya'll? It's like hot knives with every one of the 11,000 daily steps. 1200 mg of Ibuprofen twice a day ain't cutting it. So today I caved, admitted my own vulnerability and followed my housemate's good advice to go to a local clinic.

Honestly? The whole process left me a little star-struck by the healthcare system over here - and by here, I mean the Palestinian Authority because the closest health centers to us are Arab-run. With all the news I read about the potential roll-back of the ACA in the US and how the new plan will throw 24 thousand people off, I couldn't help but share my little story in hopes that someone who can make a difference will read it and do the right thing (which is to call your Senator and ask them to block it! Right now. Don't delay!)

With that little political nugget out of the way, back to my story. My knees have been taking a beating. I've gotten some great stretches from my rock-star body builder friend, Kelsey - which helped. After this morning's 4 mile walk, I decided to visit the Al Hayat Medical Center in neighboring Sheik Jarrah to get them checked out. I even sprang for a taxi, that's how much I hurt.

Walking- no, hobbling - into the building, I was nervous about the cost, since Al Hayat doesn't take my traveler's insurance. In the US, an ER visit can cost thousands. I was also concerned about the time. It was about noon, and if I had to wait the 6 hours it takes in the states to be seen that means I'd be out in the dark, which is a no-no security risk. I had all the cash that I have left in my monthly allowance, hopefully it would be enough (or maybe they take credit cards).

I have my own history of being uninsured. When I began working full time as an associate pastor at the church I now serve as senior pastor and didn't have health insurance. It was my fault. I declined the UCC coverage because my husband had it from his work, and it would save the church money. When he lost his job a year later it took a few years of prayer and advocating for myself and my family to get Plan "C", the lowest cost/highest deductible package the wider church offers.

When your family lives paycheck to paycheck, unexpected medical bills can ruin you. Anyone who has been un (or under) insured knows what's it's like to avoid those expensive annual exams and tests and pray that your kid doesn't get something that will require antibiotics and an office visit or GOD FORBID, a cast. You live in fear of finding a lump or a new weirdly-shaped mole. You put off care as long as you can, because you KNOW you can't afford it. When you finally decide to address the issue, there's a dreadful pit-of-your-stomach-what-if-we-lose-everything kind of anxiety to deal with, so just in case you check the limit on your credit cards.

When I got there, a kind woman at the front desk asked for my information and what was wrong. There were no forms, she just needed my first and last name and date of birth and a few words about my symptoms which she printed out on a tidy computer-generated form and handed to me.

Then, she asked me to pay the doctor's consultation fee up front, which was 100 shekels, or about $27.50 USD.

Next, she told me to wait outside the emergency room. I was the second person in line, which took about 5 minutes. In the ER room, the doctor and nurse were compassionate and gave me an order for X-ray. I brought the order downstairs and was seen immediately by the technician. When he was finished, he told me to go back to see the doctor, the films were already loaded into the computer system. I was given a CD of the images to share with my doctor at home.

Cost of X-rays? 50 shekels, or about $13.71 USD.

Returning to the ER doctor's office, he told me "You are in a great deal of pain." (well, yes) This is because you have no cartilage on the inside part of your knee joints - the left is worse that the right. It's rubbing bone on bone, osteo-arthritis with some tendinitis - which is worse on the right from overcompensating. Made worse by the walking unevenly on stone. I will give you a shot so you have some immediate relief, and here are prescriptions for a muscle relaxer, an anti-inflammatory and glucosamine/chondroitin - don't worry, it's organic. Come back and see my in 10 days, or come and see one of our orthopedists, we have 3 on staff here. Maybe when you get back to the states you have surgery, that's up to you."

Cost of medications, combined? 227 shekels, or about $62.28.

If you've done the math, that's $103.49. To have, what seems like, a pretty significant diagnosis.

Time taken to arrive at this new bit of information? About an hour. In fact, the walk BACK to the placement house was probably longer than the time I spent at the clinic.

I leave you to guess what the US system would charge an uninsured person with similar needs. But here's the $5,000 dollar question (that's my guess, btw)... if occupied East Jerusalem can provide affordable, excellent health care for its residents and guests like me, why can't the United States? Please don't answer with "if you like it so much, then stay there", because that's just mean and unhelpful. Besides, thinking like that won't move us forward in a way that cares for our neighbors and "least of these" as is the call of those of us who claim the name Christian.

Oh, and BTW, I know for a fact that there are plenty of people who do not claim my religious identity but are on the same ethical path. We are are a pretty big squad, actually.

At the end of the day, the healthcare system in the US is a problem that we ALL need to come together to fix, no matter our label. Can't we do better? Shouldn't we try? 

p.s., The meds are working and I'm not scheduled for anything too strenuous in the next few days, so I'm hoping that my next 38 days are more comfortable! Your prayers are ALWAYS appreciated!!!

Wadi Abu-Hindi Bamboo School

Some ride the family donkey to school

A 20 minute drive down a remote desert road, past piles of garbage and a reeking cesspool of black water runoff from a hilltop dump, just a hundred feet past a group of tethered donkeys lies the Wadi Abu-Hindi Bamboo School. The staff of 15 provides educational services for 85 boys and girls from 1st through 9th grade living in the small Bedouin villages of Abu-Hindi and Abu-Noir.

The school is 20 years old. It was first created as a one-room tent by a teacher who still works there. A second school was built in 1998 but was later demolished by the civil administration. This, the third school, was made in partnership with an Italian NGO 'Vento di Terra' that gets very creative with building materials (you may remember my post on the Tyre school). Unlike most 'permanent' structures in this part of the world it is made of bamboo, mud and wood. It is made this way because there is a governmental injunction against building with concrete and cement.

The Bamboo School

At the Bamboo School, transportation for students and teachers is very difficult. Many of the schoolchildren walk 6 km each way from their homes to their school. They often have to pass nearby settlements where they are threatened and harassed. The journey on foot takes 2-3 hours. In the summer, it's scorching hot and in the winter it is cold and rainy, with potential flash floods. There is a sewage pipe they cross over that is frequently backed up and spills onto their path. The lucky ones are able to ride their family's donkey, but not all can afford to do this.

The headmaster of the Bamboo School has asked the Palestinian Authority for a bus, but he was told there is no money. Now, he is working with various international NGO's to see if anything can be done to fix their transportation issues. Last month, four of the teachers were arrested and interrogated for 5 hours by the police on their morning commute to school. The crime? Riding together in a carpool with an old, unregistered car on the school's long dirt driveway (which is actually perfectly legal, according to Israeli law). After the teachers paid the eight thousand shekels in fines, their case will be brought before the court on May 27th. No one knows if further fines will be levied, or if the driver will lose his license.

A Third Grader learns Mathematics

Another problem they struggle with is safety. A nearby military installation has left behind numerous unexploded ordinances and live ammunition in the fields where the children play or shepherd their family's sheep and goats. One child recently lost two fingers when he picked up a grenade, hoping to sell it for scrap iron. The teachers and the Red Crescent try to educate the students and parents about the safety risk through seminars and morning announcements, but children still pick them up.

Homework is an issue, because many Bedouin parents cannot read or write, and neither do they have the technology or electricity for their children to use. Teachers do their best to fit all the curriculum they can into the young minds of their students during the school day, but they know that assigning homework is a losing battle. Since the school's electricity is limited to half a dozen solar panels, they are unable to run all their technology at once. The nine classes take turns using the 2 laptops, a projector, and a printer.

English Class Poster by 9th grader Nada Hassan

Boys in particular seem to have a difficult time keeping still, and about half choose to work instead of going on to high school in neighboring Al-Azariah. Many girls graduate high school, and one student recently went on to receive teacher training at Al-Guds University. The headmaster beamed with joy telling us about her, and his dream of inspiring the rest of the children there to become teachers.

"We try to get the Minister of Education (from the PA) to explain that they should continue in the school and become teachers. Just think - you can become a teacher, and teach your children in this school!"  (Waled Abu Hilal, headmaster)

It struck me, as we were leaving, that despite all their challenges, the teachers and students here at the Bamboo School possess a hope in the future that is astounding. To be able to learn Arabic, English, Mathematics, History and Geography under such incredibly difficult psychological and physical conditions shows great strength of character. It's this attitude of thriving, despite great odds, that I've witnessed during my time here again and again and makes me think that once some peace and equality finally do break out there will be very little left to hold them back. May it be so, and may it be soon.

Thank you, Wadi Abu-Hindi Bamboo School,
for your hospitality during our visit! We'll be back!

Mid Term Orientation: A Week to Breathe Deep and Take it All In

Fatigue, in human rights advocacy, runs deep. It's not so much the physical activity, although walking 5 miles a day up and down the old city and East Jerusalem streets or standing for four hours at Qalandia checkpoint can be challenging. The tiredness is more an emotional feeling, it strikes me at the oddest moments. It creeps around on its knees, deep in my soul.

Another house demolition to report. Another stabbing or shooting setting everyone on edge. Another morning spent asking soldiers to open the checkpoint's Humanitarian gate. It's no wonder that people who do this work often burn out, fast and furious or find themselves with a new gallows-style sense of humor.

In the beginning, I dealt with stress by retreating to my room to pray or cry (usually both at the same time). I'd write, and in doing so, try to imagine a better world with an end to conflict. Lately, it's been more challenging to find optimism and hope.

Wisely, our staff here have constructed our time with a week long break from our normal duties called "Mid-Term Orientation". We all come in to Jerusalem and stay at the Ecce Homo hostel deep in the Old City - the place where we met one another 7 weeks ago. There are a variety of speakers from some of the over 400 peace-building organizations in Israel. We traveled together to Haifa, and to a small Jewish community just outside the border of the Gaza Strip.

Here is a list of some of what we encountered, I'd like you know about them so that you can read up on them yourself:

Ruth Hiller – one of the original founders of “New Profile” www.newprofile.org, a feminist group working to de-militarize society in Israel, to end Israel’s occupation of Palestinian land conquered in 1967, to generate a life-preserving, egalitarian, humane society and to uphold the right to freedom of conscience, she is deeply concerned with militarization of Israeli society and told us of her family's personal journey of having two daughters enter military service and the process of supporting four sons who refused to do so.

Sharon Dolev - from the “Israeli Disarmament Movement”  http://disarmament.org.il/english/

who told us that there are 9 nuclear armed states that are putting 1 trillion dollars a year into weapons, and reminded us that Israel possesses chem-bio-nuclear WMD before she taught us important information about how the political parties and government are set up to work in Israel, and some of the threats to safety and peace that she sees in the rhetoric.

Samar Hougha - from "The Mossawa Center" in Haifa http://www.mossawa.org/en who works with Arabic citizens in Israel and recognition of the Palestinian people’s identity by lobbying the Knesset for fair legislation, increasing International advocacy and awareness in the EU parliament and US congress, empowering Women entrepreneurs and leaders, analyzing the needs of Arab communities.

Eric Yellin, - from “Other Voice”, http://www.othervoice.org  co-author of ‘Life must go on in Gaza and Sderot’ blogsite, http://gaza-sderot.blogspot.co.il/  As we looked down on Gaza from a hilltop a few hundred meters from the border, he shared with us his impressions of living as neighbors. He believes that the reality of the current hostilities and conflict make peace impossible. His work is to convince leaders and people on both sides of the border that “The only way to make this place safe is to be at peace with our neighbors."

Osama & Mahoun - from "Combatants for Peace", http://www.cfpeace.org  an Israeli Ex-Army and Palestinian Ex-Combatant organization that has been recently nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize. They send pairs of speakers out to discuss the path to peace and ways that former enemies of war may be reconciled

We also met with our embassy/consulate representatives, worked on researching issues that the Holocaust and Nakba share with each other, went to a reform synagogue for worship, and attended a choir concert together. Just hearing the perspectives of our speakers and being together with the people from the other 6 sites and our staff was the pick-me-up I needed to focus in on the next 40 days until I'm back in the states. Today we take the Sunday to plan out the week, do laundry and fill the placement fridge so we can hit the field tomorrow refreshed and ready. I hope that your Sunday is a restful one too.

Inshallah

For surely I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord, plans for your welfare and not for harm, to give you a future with hope. (Jeremiah 29:11)

Bedouin Tent at Jabal Al-Baba

It's a turn of phrase that is frequently used in this part of the world, and one that I find myself saying more frequently as time passes... Inshallah.  In Arabic, it means something like, "God willing" or "If God so wills". It is the answer to so many questions...
     Is this where I catch the next bus? Inshallah.
     Can we come see you tomorrow? Inshallah.
     Do you think you'll pass the checkpoint in time? Inshallah.

Jabal Al-Baba (The Mountain of the Pope) is a small Bedouin community, located slightly northeast of Al-E'izariya, known in the New Testament as Bethany (hometown of Jesus' friends Mary, Martha and their brother Lazarus). The 300 people who live here, many of then children, are descendants of people displaced from the Negev in 1948. 

Jabal Al-Baba is one of many Bedouin communities at risk. 

Planting a tree with Attalah

In 2014, 14 homes were demolished here. Paperwork has been filed to demolish the rest of the buildings to make way for settlement growth. Due to an encroaching wall, they are no longer able to move their herds and work as shepherds - although they still keep a small number of animals. Although they live with the threat of demolition and an ever growing separation wall, they are not without hope.

A few years ago, they decided the best way to resist the pain of the occupation was to find new and creative ways to be who they are. Attalah, the community's leader, has created a kind of a "Bedouin Experience Camp" in which visitors can come and sample traditional food and stay overnight in an authentic goat-hair tent. The hope is that if Jabal Al-Baba is sustainable and brings in tourism dollars the civil authorities may change their minds and let them live in peace. Inshallah.

Attalah has become a good friend of ours, we are always provided for with such wonderful hospitality (we all think his sage tea is the best we've tasted). He invited us to plant trees with him a few weeks ago, but we had some scheduling conflicts that led us to push it off. Today, we finally had the chance to return.

What is Firas Holding?

If you look carefully at this picture you may be able to figure out what Firas is holding. Do you see what it is? It is a discarded army helmet with a portion of the top cut out. This is the container that Atallah uses as an underground planter for the tiny saplings. He is taking an item of war, and turning it into a bed of peace. Inshallah.

Here's the thing about the trees we planted. Attalah has invited each person in our group to return in a few years to check on "our tree". As the soil crumbled through our fingers, he told us that now that we have a stake in the community, we are welcome to return at any time. But I wonder, when we do - what will we find? Hopefully, we'll see a community that has been left to live their old way, with a new twist. We'll see that our trees have grown strong and tall, and that the many children have grown to be a blessing to their community. And maybe the dream that seems so far off, the dream of peace, will have crept just a little bit closer. Inshallah...

International Day of the Woman

On this International Day of the Woman, this post is made in honor of all the strong, fiercely loving women that I have met and admired so far during my time here,
- The Bedouin women of Khan Al Ahmar, working to save their Tyre school and village from mass demolition orders,
- The young Muslim medical student who travels every morning through the humiliating and dangerous checkpoint at Qalandia,
- The Palestinian community center leader in Wadi Hilweh trying to keep 600 children in her care safe from detention and arrest,
- The women of Silwan whose homes are crumbling away from structural damage from an improperly managed and politicized archaeology project,
- The Jahalin grandmother weeping at the destruction of her caravan home as her small grandchildren play on the remains,
- The teenagers who laugh as they try to teach me some Arabic,
- The Israeli women who strongly denounce the conditions of this occupation and give their time to non-violent protest and advocacy,
- The Palestinian mother who awoke at 5am by bulldozers coming to tear down the house in which her five teenage sons live,
- The Palestinian Christians ladies at the Roman Catholic Arabic-Italian Church, Mary of the Sacred Heart, as they share laughter, plates of sweets and small strong cups of coffee at coffee hour,
- The teachers of Waft schools who teach Palestinian culture as educational authorities attempt to repress their voice...

Please enjoy this video, "The Palestine I Know" by Rafeef Ziadah from the album We Teach Life. Performed live at the Abbey Theatre in Dublin May 2016. Music by Phil Monsour.

Proclaim Jubilee

“Consecrate the fiftieth year and proclaim liberty throughout the land to all its inhabitants. It shall be a jubilee for you; each of you is to return to your family property and to your own clan…In this Year of Jubilee everyone is to return to their own property.” (Leviticus 25: 10,13)

Imagine that you are a father of five teenage boys living in the small, overcrowded village of Beit Hanina, on the outskirts of Jerusalem. Your family hadn’t always lived here. Your true home, as your father tells the story, is the Negev. He and your mother (who has long since passed) were internally displaced in 1948 in what Israelis call the “War of Independence”.

The ruins of your home

Your family calls the war “al-Nakbah” or “the Catastrophe”. They remember it as a time in which 700,000 Palestinians fled their homes as some five hundred villages (including your family’s) were destroyed. Since that moment in time, your people have been living in an occupied territory. Even though it began ten years before you were born, your standard of living, access to religious sites and education, the jobs that are available to you, where you may live, even the identity of the person you are able to marry – all will be dictated by a political system in which you are not allowed to participate. Unlike other democratic countries, you may not vote for the representatives that make decisions on your behalf, because you are living under an occupation, you are not considered a full citizen.

One morning at 5 am you hear loud banging and shouts at your door. About 20 soldiers are there with automatic weapons and a large bulldozer. It breaks your heart to see your sons and wife so full of fear as you all get pushed outside so the movers can do their work. The men quickly move through your house, taking out some items and leaving others. You wish your sons had their backpacks for school, but you don’t see them on the pile – they must be under the rubble. You gather your family together in safety just as the wreaking ball begins to swing, demolishing the cement block home that you built with your own two hands just nine years ago.

An empty space where
your home once was

 You thought that the 40,000 shekels (10,000 USD) that you paid in fines for not having the proper building permit would help delay this dark day, but your lawyer was unable to have the case thrown out of court. And now, you will not only have to pay his costs but also the costs for demolition. You and your family are suddenly homeless. Sure, you could just leave and go somewhere else, but the only places available are the nearby refugee camps at Shu’fat or Qalandia – both rife with violence. That’s no environment to raise your teenage sons.

During our second week of placement as international human rights observers, we encountered the man I describe above and his family. Seeing the rubble of what had been their lives, their home base, their shelter and safety… well, there is simply nothing that can be said to ease that kind of helplessness.

More rubble and destruction

It’s a situation that happens quite frequently in Jerusalem. According to the Society of St. Ives Catholic Center for Human Rights, only 7% of building applications are approved for Palestinians while the remaining 93% are granted to Israeli Jew’s. In the Palestinian areas of Jerusalem, there is a housing shortage of 43,000 units. Since permits cost over $30,000 and 75.4% of Palestinians live under the poverty line and are unable to afford it, many have no choice but to build illegally and hope for the best. At this moment, 60,000 families are under demolition orders and are at risk of waking up to find a bulldozer at their door. And it seems, given the current political state, that it is only going to get worse. Unless we decide to do something about it.

Prayers are good, but advocacy is too. It’s been 50 years of unjust occupation, so let’s proclaim Jubilee today. Write your senators and congress people, ask them what they know about this situation which our tax dollars are supporting. Talk to your friends about it. Read up on the human rights abuses taking place here in this “Holy Land Full of Holes”. Better yet, come and see for yourself.