A question of hope

8/13/2007 for faculty devotions
revised 8/22/07 for chapel

Reflections on my trip to Bethlehem, Hebron, and Jerusalem

Marcus Miller

“Hope that is not risking is not hope. Hope that is not promising is not hope.” Zoughbi Zoughbie

Three weeks ago I arrived in Jerusalem to participate in a Christian Peacemaker Team delegation. Christian Peacemaker Teams were organized in 1984 by the Church of the Brethren, Quakers and Mennonites. The goal is to send peacemakers into areas of conflict where their presence hopefully helps bring a peaceful resolution. CPT has been in Hebron for the last 20 years at the invitation of the Hebron City Council.

Our delegation consisted of 15 members including 2 leaders. The group ranged in age from 18 to over 65. There were 7 men and 8 women, 2 Quakers, 3 Catholics, 2-3 Methodists, a Unitarian, a Pentecostal, 4 Mennonites, and 3 pastors.

From Tuesday through Saturday we met with a variety of people including Israeli’s and Palestinians. In Bethlehem we saw our first close up view of the separation wall being built by the Israeli government. In places it is 20 ft high, accompanied by guard towers, razor wire and security cameras. We toured the Deheisheh Refugee Camp where Palestinians who fled from their homes in 1948-49 continue to live.

That evening we heard the story of Nihal Boqai who had grown up in the camp and whose extended family still lived in the camp. We heard about his brother, a Palestinian police officer who was killed when an Israeli missile hit the car in which he was riding and his younger brother who was exiled to the Gaza strip at the age of 18 and where he has been for the last 6 years separated from his family with little chance of seeing them anytime in the near future. Several of us slept on the roof that night hoping it would be cooler than staying inside.

I found it interesting that in their home was a grape vine, which we were told was planted over 30 years ago when the tents were replaced with cement block buildings, and I wondered, why would you plant a vine in a refugee camp?

Later that week we traveled to the Negev Desert where we visited two “unrecognized Bedouin villages.” The Israeli government has tried to force the semi-nomadic Bedouin into settled towns and while many Bedouins have moved, several extended families have refused to move to the towns where unemployment is over 50% and crime is a growing problem. Living in an “unrecognized village” means they receive no services from the government including water, electricity, education for their children, and that their simple homes can be demolished at any time.

Back in Bethlehem we met with the director of a Palestinian Christian center which works to improve the lives of people in Bethlehem. A man with a flair for words he described how Bethlehem has “gone from a grotto to a ghetto,” describing how for many Palestinians it is difficult to move beyond “the restricted areas to which they have been assigned,” by Israel. He described for us the many programs they have started to help children deal with the trauma of occupation, of helping families cope with the rise in domestic violence which happened during times when Bethlehem was placed under 24 hour curfew for 50 to 60 days. Zoughbi finished by describing his dream for his land, that it would become a place where people of all faiths could live together equally. “Hope that is not risking is not hope. Hope that is not promising is not hope.” He said

By this point I was finding all the information we were hearing to be rather depressing. On the one hand I was impressed by the many expressions of hope for a better future we heard from the Israeli’s, the Palestinians and the Bedouins we had met.

but frankly I found the expressions of hope I was hearing to be totally unrealistic based on what I saw happening on the ground. It was much easier to see signs of evil. The separation or
apartheid wall being built, the remains of home demolitions, the checkpoints, the settlements, the celebratory pictures of young men who had died for their cause posted in various places, the many IDF soldiers with their M16’s everywhere and the new highway built through lush Palestinian farmland on which only Israeli’s could drive. They all seemed to me, large barriers to peace which would ultimately squash whatever hope we heard expressed. I like to think of myself as a relatively optimistic person but I found the hope the Palestinians were expressing about a better future to be totally unrealistic and naïve. Many of the groups we heard from were doing good work but frankly much of it seemed pointless.

Then came Sunday. We were encouraged to attend a local worship service. Though we were only a short walk from the church of the nativity I didn’t feel much like visiting there and participating in what one of our group members described as competing church services in the same building.

We were staying in a facility called “House of Bread” which I learned is what the word “Bethlehem” means. A group of Palestinian Christians met there for worship service so I decided to go along with two or three others from our group.

The service started with some singing. A young Palestinian, Grace Zoughby led us in “King of Kings and lord of Lords, “first in Arabic, then English, followed by another round of Arabic. Singing "king of Kings,... Jesus Prince of Peace" took on a whole new meaning for me when singing it in occupied Bethlehem while being led by a young Palestinian women. She then did "nothing is to difficult for thee..." and again a song which often seemed trite when singing it in Kalona, became a powerful chorus of hope.

A young man, Fadi, then shared his sermon. For scripture he used II Kings 6:1-7 and Hebrews 11:1 Fadi described the story of Elisha and the axe head and the description of faith in the book of Hebrews. He talked of belief in a God who was bigger than any separation wall that could be built, and of Jesus, born nearby, who challenged us to love our enemies and those who persecute us, and then he came around to that word hope again.

It felt like he was talking to me when he went on to say that when we give up hope is when we try to do things ourselves. When we give up hope is when we become tired and frustrated. When we give up hope is when we are tempted to resort to violence because it seems to be the most efficient solution. When we give up hope is when we look inward, surrounding ourselves with possessions while we ignore the situation of those around us. When we have hope is when the impossible can be done.

As we left for Hebron, as I traveled back home, this question of hope in the face of such adversity is one I continue to roll around in my head and frankly one I am still struggling with. Frankly I still find it hard to be hopeful that there will be a peaceful resolution to the situation in the West Bank.

As we begin this school year we hope for a good year, we hope our classes go well, we hope our students learn and mature and I think we have a strong chance of achieving these hopes. But we do not face restrictions on travel, don’t have Jewish settlers throwing stones or otherwise harassing our students on the way to school, we don’t deal with soldiers demolishing our students homes, or in the case of the Bedouin village, the threat of our school building be destroyed after a demolition order was placed on their new school building.

As I was putting this together I kept thinking about what images I should use at the end to either symbolize my lack of hope or to acknowledge some sense of hope. I couldn’t resist including the pictures of the boys soccer team formed in Hebron, where they play on a street that is 24 yards wide and where rocks thrown by settlers are an occasional hazard. The boys now have something productive to do in the afternoons and evenings. I also couldn’t resist including the picture of an IDF soldier playing with them even though he was later scolded by his commanding officer for doing so. .

I would like us to think about what is the basis of our hope, is it sufficient to take us through hard times, what do we hope for, and to use the phrase of Zoughbi, “Is our hope risking? Is our hope promising?”

I would like to finish with this picture. It is an ancient tomb just outside the old city gates of Jerusalem where many people believe Jesus was buried after his crucifixion. The tomb is empty, the stone is rolled away. On what do we base our hope? Is your hope risking? Is your hope promising?”