Marlin & Sally in Jerusalem

Unsettling

(The Christian Peacemaker Teams keep a log.  Here is an edited version of one such log.)

AT-TUWANI: Despite Defense Ministry orders, Israeli soldiers continue to shirk responsibility for protecting Palestinian school children.

Settlers from Ma'on settlement and the Hill 833 outpost continue to harass the Palestinian children from Tuba while they walk to and from school in At-Tuwani.

On Wednesday May 10, the Israeli defense minister's bureau issued a report stating that Amir Peretz instructed the Israeli military and police to increase the security for the Palestinian children passing the Hill 833 outpost on their way to and from school.  The report also states that the escort should immediately arrest anyone who harasses the children.

The following incidents have occurred since the defense minister's bureau issued the May 10 orders:

Thursday, May 11

During the morning walk to school, a settler walked along with the children and soldiers yelling at the children and blowing a shofar (horn.) The soldiers did not try to make the man leave.

Monday, May 15

The afternoon military escort arrived at 2:30 p.m., one and one half hours after the scheduled 1:00 pm meeting time.  The soldiers gave no reason for their tardiness.

Thursday, May 18

The army escort was over one hour late in the morning to meet the children and escort them to At Tuwani.  During that hour, the children waited at the meeting place near the settler chicken barns south of the Ma'on settlement. Settlers have frequently harassed the children in this area while they await the arrival of the military or police.

Saturday, May 20

During the morning school patrol, four male settlers dressed completely in white approached the military escort and walked among the children.  The soldiers did not try to prevent the settlers from having contact with the children.  The children reported that some of the settlers pushed them.

Sunday, May 21

During the morning school patrol two settlers, a man and a woman approached the patrol as they walked by the settler mobile home on the eastern edge of the Hill 833 outpost. According to the children the woman yelled at them, hit them and tried to drag a seven-year-old boy away from the group.  The male settler yelled at the children. The soldiers did not try to stop any of the settlers' actions.  Members of Christian Peacemaker Teams (CPT) and Operation Dove observed a portion of the attack from a nearby hill.  At the end of the patrol, members of CPT confronted the commander of the four soldiers and asked him why they did not stop the attack.

The commander told them that according to his orders, he could do nothing to the man unless he directly assaulted the solders.  He also said that he could do nothing about the woman's actions because the male soldiers are not allowed to touch Jewish women.

Marlin’s Note:  As a grandfather and father I cannot imagine how it must feel to have your grandchild or child treated like this and be powerless to do anything about it.  To choose not to retaliate must take tremendous resolve.    What impresses me most about all of this is the resiliency and persistent of those small children.  Even though they daily face harassment, physical threats and actual violence, these children get up in the morning, put on their backpacks, and head for school.  Do you know anyone that brave?

IT'S ALL ABOUT THE CHILDREN!

(This piece is from a letter written by a Christian Peacemaker whose name I have changed.  I'm using my mother's name for this brave lady.  I've edited the piece to suit the style of this blog site.)

Christian Peacemaker Team member Martha gives the following eyewitness account.  She and other team members routinely put themselves between vulnerable children and vicious settlers who are squatting on land charted as part of Palestinian Territory.  Village children have to walk to school.  Sometimes, because of the Separation Wall they have to walk a great distance.  These children need a military escort to go to school.  Mostly, the military give half-hearted effort to this task.  They are there more to protect the settlers than to protect the children.  There are exceptional soldiers though and this story is about them too.  Martha entitled the story, "The only children in Palestine who run toward soldiers."

“Things seemed to escalate early in May when the military/police escort stopped using the most direct road and began using a longer road that goes right along side of the houses of the radical and violent settlers that live in the outpost.  This angered the settlers.  They put large rocks on the road to block the escort jeeps, and also chased and attacked the children, some as tiny as 6 and 7 years old.

“Normally, the military and police turn a blind eye to these incidents, but on May 6 the blinders were torn away.  On that Saturday afternoon, I was waiting with some of the school children and a new CPTer in At-Tuwani for the military escort to come and protect the children as they walked to school.  Another CPTer was waiting on a hill where he could observe more of the road.  He heard children's screaming, and then we all heard a gun shot.  We ran toward the sounds to witness what was happening.

“When we arrived on the scene we discovered a group of grown men had attacked the children and the soldiers as well.   The children had already scattered and were small figures on the road leading to Tuba.  The soldiers that had escorted the children told us what had happened. (These were soldiers with whom we had several good conversations, and most importantly, soldiers the children themselves labeled as 'good soldiers.')  It seems that thirty settlers were waiting at the roadblock to ambush the children. These adult men had-- 'rained' rocks down on the children and soldiers.  Then the settlers charged into the group -- shouting, shoving, punching and even kicking the children, and the soldiers too.  An enraged settler punched one of the soldiers in the face, and the soldier fired his weapon into the air.  This was the gun shot that we heard from the other side of the hill.

“The soldiers had called the police. Several children sustained injuries to legs and heads; three required medical attention. Police have not yet arrested any settlers.”   (Click here for photos of this episode.)

Marlin’s note:  Thank God, the bruises and abrasions to the children were relatively minor.  They will soon heal and leave tiny scars that will also disappear in time.  But the wounds in the minds and hearts of these children will not heal so quickly, if they heal at all.  There is something terribly wrong here.  And the fact that you only hear about it from people like me ought to tell you that what is wrong is not only here.

By the way, those of you whose churches contributed to a fund to provide counseling to children suffering from post traumatic stress syndrome will be pleased to know that you are helping.  IT’S ALL ABOUT THE CHILDREN!

Follower of Jesus and Protector of Children

HAPPY MEMORIAL DAY!

(I would have loved to add a photo of John, but I need to protect and respect his privacy.)

His name is John.  He is from Britain and he is in his eighties.  His back is bowed to age and a touch of osteoporosis.  John wears weathered old sandals that perfectly fit his cracked, old reddened feet.  Being a true Brit, John has a continuous sunburn and a quiet, strong voice – stiff upper lip, and all that.  I love John.  And I’m not alone.  Everybody loves John.  To dozens of Palestinian children and village shepherds, as well as a number of Israeli soldiers, and to Sally and me as well, John is a hero.  John is quiet, painfully shy, and fiercely brave.  John is a Christian Peacemaker Team member who daily puts his life on the line for peace and justice.  John is a devoted follower of Jesus and when you ask him he will tell you that he does what he does because he believes that it is what Jesus would do if Jesus were here, which, John would add, Jesus is, of course.  Then he’d tilt his head and smile at you as if say, “Don’t make the mistake of underestimating me.”

When I grow up, I want to be like John.

This week I will introduce you to Christian Peacemaker Teams (CPT).  First of all, here is their stated mission:  Christian Peacemaker Teams (CPT) seeks to enlist the whole church in organized, nonviolent alternatives to war and places teams of trained peacemakers in regions of lethal conflict.  Originally a violence-reduction initiative of the historic peace churches (Mennonite, Church of the Brethren and Quaker), CPT now enjoys support and membership from a wide range of Christian denominations.

If you want to know more, here is their web page: www.cpt.org/index.html.

What follows is a small part in a day in the life of a CPTer.  I am grateful to Professor Raymond Weiss for keeping me informed of the activity of CPT.  Dr. Weiss is another of my heroes.  As the week progresses you will get to know the players in this on going drama.  Settlers are Israeli hard-liners who place themselves on Palestinian land and then terrorize the local villagers, especially the children. As you read this, please remember all this is happening inside the Palestinian Territories.  (For a picture of settlers taken just after they chased a group of small Palestinian children hit: Hidden faces of Israel.)

DAILY ROUTINE

Each day (apart from Fridays) the team monitored the police and military escort of the children from Tuba at the start and close of school day in two locations: At-Tuwani and Khoruba hill near the southeastern edge of the Hill 833 settler outpost.  They also accompanied shepherds, who, because of the warmer weather, tended to go out in the early morning and then again in the late afternoon.  On a daily basis, the team documented the continuing construction work on the low wall along bypass road 317.

Monday 15 May 2006

Four journalists from Hebron (Reuters and AP) drove their car up to the ridge on the southeastern edge of Hill 833 outpost to film the morning school patrol. Two settlers, a man and a woman, came out from the black tarp house and approached the vehicle. The man was shouting and gesturing wildly, while the woman videotaped. A CPTer began to walk from Khoruba hill to inform the journalists that they had every right to be there, but they returned to their car and drove away before he got there. The settler chased the car for a few hundred meters. The journalists returned to At-Tuwani and filmed the escort from across Humra valley. They met the children at the end of the escort and interviewed the children and CTPer JOHN -- old, fierce John, follower of Jesus and protector of children.

Marlin's note: The good news is that more and more jornalists are making their way into the Palestinian Occupied Territories to witness settler activity.  I am encouraged with what I am seeing and hearing from the many others who visit here as well.  The truth is being told.  You can help.  Tell the truth about what you read.  This is about the children.  Never forget that:  THIS IS ABOUT THE CHILDREN!

The Two Faces of Israel

(Prime Minister of Israel Ehud Olmert is in town and he is showing you one face of the State of Israel.  Here's the face you will not see.  Here's a story he will not tell you.  But it is true and it is a story that repeats itself everyday and in a thousand different ways.  It was written by a colleague.)            

"This morning, as I reached the fourth stage of inspection on my daily terminal crossing to get to Jerusalem from Bethlehem, I saw a little boy (about 5 years old) with his school bag on his back, standing behind the closed door, and in tears. (The door is closed from entry, but not from access to others crossing into Jerusalem.)  The child was denied entry to Jerusalem to get to his school by the Israeli soldier in charge of ID check this morning. I tried to understand what the problem was, and the soldier told me in Hebrew that he was sending the boy back home because he didn't carry his birth certificate.

I might understand, if it was a 15 year old, who needed a birth certificate to prove that he is not yet 16 (the age at which you get an ID and you would need a permit to cross over to Jerusalem), but he wasn't even 6, I swear. I told the soldier in English that he was 'Just a baby!' but he wouldn't listen. Some of the people crossing started pleading with the soldier too, saying that he is missing his school and that he is too young to go back home by himself, his mom must have dropped him and left, but to no avail.. The boys eyes were filled with tears, and he kept repeating one sentence over and over "mom didn't give it to me" (referring to his birth certificate). I told him to try and use the other lane, as the female soldier at that lane might have a kinder heart than this soldier and would let him pass, but he was terrified. He kept looking at the soldier, afraid no to abide by his orders to go back. I left while still encouraging him to go to the other lane. A few minutes later, the boy came out. I asked him how he finally made it. He said he took my advice and used the other lane. One has to really wonder, how this five-year old might be a threat to the security of the state of Israel.

We will keep working for a future that is 'traumatize-free' for everyone in this troubled country."

This includes five-year-old boys and 18 year-old soldiers. The first who ought to be looked after by the second. (Marlin's note.)

A Little Girl, A Little Smile, A little Hope

(The photos are of two Palestinian children, a gentle reminder of the stakes in the games we adults play.  I keep hoping that it is the children who will motivate us to stop playing war games. According to Amnesty International, during 2005, almost 50 Palestinian children were killed by the Israel Defense Force, and 6 Israeli children were killed by armed Palestinians.  And the sad truth is, we could stop this violence if we had the will to do so.)

A good 4 minute read.  Or, a 4 minute good read.

Hope is hard to come by these days and in this place, so a little hope means a lot.  A little hope is like a little light in a dark place, a little water to a woman dying for a drink.  A little hope is like a little seed planted in a little parcel of land.  A little hope is a little chance for a little change, and a little change can transform the world. 

Yesterday, a little girl gave me a little smile and with that smile came a little hope.

A big white bus with green stripes passed by on the road.  It is the bus to Ramallah and in one of the seats by a window sits a little girl, 6 or 7 years old.  She has a narrow face, and long, thick black hair.  She is wearing an olive green school uniform.  Her chin rests on a blue backpack that she is holding on her lap.  She is watching me, and I catch her eye.  That’s all; I just catch her eye, or is it the other way around.  I expect that she will look away, but she doesn’t.  She holds my eyes as if she is a doctor who sees something that needs attention, needs fixing, healing.  Then she smiles and lifts her right hand to give a tiny wave.  I smile, of course.  How could I not smile?  And I wave back at her, this little girl.  Who is she?  Whose is she?  Why does she smile at me?  What/who gives her the courage to take a chance like that?

Made in the image of God makes me think that God must be like us in some ways, or perhaps better said, we must be a little like God.  I wonder then if there are not times when God needs a little hope.  And where would God find hope?  To whom would God turn?

I think one little person seeking to do a little good might give God a little hope.  I pray that God never loses hope.  The Bible hints that God gets close at times.  Think about the Noah story and God’s shock and dismay at what humankind does to one another.  “They do to one another what I could never have imaged,” God tells Noah.  Think Moses in the wilderness needing to remind God that this stiff-necked people were God’s people and that God was not allowed to lose hope in them.  Or remember please, Jesus on the cross begging the Father to forgive these people – us – the crown of God’s creation, “for they know not what they do.”   Don’t lose hope Father.  Don’t lose hope.

A little girl, a little smile, a little hope.

Do a little something today to give God a little hope – okay?

Palestinian Views

Everyday Palestinians have no voice.  No one listens to them.  Please take a few minutes and listen to the voice of six Palestinians. I am not asking you to agree with everything you hear from them -- I don't.  But just listen, please.  Many of you ask what Sally and I do.  We listen.  Please, just listen.  Don't judge.  Don't condemn.  Just listen.

Thank you.  Palestinian Views.

Forward Thinking

2 minutes

“Where you from?”

I get that question a lot.  My answer depends upon who asked the question.  If anyone other than a Canadian asks then I answer: “I am from America.”  If I answer that way to a Canadian she might ask: “Which part?  South America?  Central American?  Latin America?  North America?  Which part?”  You can see her point, can’t you?  So if a Canadian asks me where I am from, then I say,  “I am from the States.”  See how sensitive I am becoming?

Sometimes at night, when Sally and I are walking in the Old City, or even on the Street where we live, a group of young men may come alongside us and ask: “Where are you going?”  We never answer that question, because they really don’t want an answer, they just want to get our attention, scare us a little.  But it is a good question, isn’t it?  “Where are you going?”

When I was a Campus Minister at Grand Valley State University I would tell students that as concerns the big questions in life, they had to think two or three generations down the line before answering.  I’d say, “When you date a guy ask yourself whether you believe this young man will lead your sons to Jesus.  And if the answer to that question is ‘no,’ then don’t date him again.  When you are making an important decision like who to date and marry you have to be thinking not just of yourself but of your children and grandchildren.”

See – where are you going?

Brayden J was born on Saturday, May 20.  He weights 8 lbs 10 ½ ounces and is 20 ½ inches long.  I don’t know why these statistics matter so much to us, but there you are.  He and his mother are well, and we bless God for the gift Brayden is to our family and to the world.  At times like these it is important for a family to ask again, “Where are we going?”  Because if we stop for a moment the race we are running, and look behind us, we will see that we are being followed.

When Sally and I decided to come to Jerusalem and serve in this way, we did it with our children, grandchildren and even great grandchildren in mind.  We wanted to give them an example to follow – someone to think about when others talked about people living out their faith.

Someday someone might say to Brayden, “You are a lot like your Grandfather Vis.”  I’d like that to seem to Brayden like a compliment.  See – where are you going?

Picturing the Past

3 minutes -- I promise.

“This is a picture of the King David Hotel after Ben Gurion blew it up in 1946.” (Ben Gurion was actually in the United States at the time of the bombing, but no one seems to dispute that he ordered it done.  The bombing was made in retaliation for a British mass arrest on June 29, 1946.  The bombing was carried out July 22.  Tit for Tat even then.)

“Really?” I say.

“Yes.  91 people were killed in that attack most of them civilians.”

“Okay.”

“I was a little boy when that happened.  But I remember it.  You know Ben Gurion was an Israeli Prime Minister?”

“I knew that,” I say.

“He has the airport named after him.  He’s a big hero.”

“Right.”

“This is a picture of the Brits in front of Damascus Gate in 1937.”  (In the photo, soldiers are milling around this important entry point into the Old City of Jerusalem.  Interestingly, many of his pictures were of soldiers. Apparently there has been a lot of soldiers in this land.)

“Wow!”  I say, and I mean it too.

“Here is a clock tower that used to be right by Jaffa Gate.”  (Another key entry into the Old City.)

“When was this?”

“Late 1920s I think” the old guy said.  “I’ll have to check for sure.  You come back and I’ll tell you exactly when it was.”

“Okay, I will.”

“The machine in that clock?”

“Yes.”

“The Brits took it out and it is the machine in Big Ben. The Brits are very clever.”

“No,” I say.

"Yes," he insists. "Very clever." Laughing at his apparent joke, I say, "I meant the machine being in Big Ben. I know the Brits are clever."

“It's the same machine," he declares. "If I’m lying to you, you may have my entire shop.  I swear.”

“Alright,” I said. But I'm still not sure about this.

“50 shekels and you can have a print of this or any of my photos.  I am printing tomorrow.”

“Well,” I say, “I’m not buying today.  I live here so I’ll be back.”

“Oh, you live here.  Well, for you my friend, a special price.”

There's this shop.  It’s located on a side street in the Old City.  I just discovered it yesterday.  It is absolutely amazing.  This old Armenian Christian shopkeeper, a historian really, has black and white photos dating back to the middle of the 19th Century.   He has pictures of fierce looking Bedouins wielding long spears and sitting on beautiful Arabian horses.  He has photos of stunningly beautiful Arab and Jewish and Armenian women in their tradition dress.  There was a photo of a scene around 1890 or so of a synagogue school.  (If he gives me the local price, I might buy it.)  The picture is of a long bearded old rabbi with head bent over a large desk.  This teacher has The Book opened before him and small boys are seated in desks placed in a semi-circle facing the old man’s desk.  They are obviously studying Torah.  It’s a great picture.

Then there’s this other one …

Well, I’ll tell you what, you come and I’ll introduce you to this old historian and his pictures. If you’re with me, you get this special price.

Imagine

(Note: I do not use names in my writings in order to protect the privacy of the people  about whom I write or quote.  I know this is not very good journalism, but I don’t consider myself a journalist.  I am a witness, a storyteller.  I also change personal details about these folks, and for the same reason.  I don’t want to cause any more pain or trouble for people who already suffer enough.  I do want to assure you, however, that the people are real.)

2 minutes

“Imagine.”

She begins and ends every story with the word – “Imagine.”  It’s the way she says it that makes you want to listen.  It is hard to describe.  Those of you who have been around Arab people have no trouble imagining the look on her face, the octave changes on all three syllables of the word, and the way her hands accent each sound.  The “i” (eh sound) is low, the “ma” is very high and the short “a” is drawn out a little, and the ending “gin” (“e” is silent) slides slowly down from the peak of the “aaaa.”  Her face wears this incredulous look that warns you that what she is about to tell you is beyond the scope of any rational person’s imagination – “eh-MAAA-gin.”  The word, then, is really a question, a challenge, a sort of prophecy, if I might put it in Biblical terms.

“Imagine, my father and mother live in Ramallah, a 20 minutes drive from my home, 20 MINUTES.  But after my son was born my father didn’t see his grandson until he was 7 months old.  eh-MAAA-gin.”

“Imagine, my sisters have not been in my home for 4 years because they cannot get a permit to leave Ramallah – 4 YEARS – my SISTERS.  eh-MAAA-gin.”

“Imagine, I have lived in Jerusalem for 10 years now.  I have no ‘black’ marks against my name.  Every year I have to apply for a permit to live with my husband and son.  This year they are holding up the process – I don’t know why.  They don’t tell me why.  They do whatever pleases them.  eh-MAAA-gin.”

This wonderful Christian woman, a lawyer, her husband and son are beginning the process for immigration to the United States. You don’t need much of an imagination to understand why.

A few months ago, in an email, a Jewish journalist lamented the loss to the region of people like my friend and her family.  “We need Christians families to stay,” he said. “They are essential to the stability of the region.  They add a richness to the culture that cannot be measured, and will be acutely felt when absent.  They are educated, morally responsible, and of the highest character.  It is shortsighted of the Israeli government to be pressuring them to leave.” 

Government that is shortsighted – eh-MAAA-gin!

(Note: It is not just pressure of the Israeli government that is forcing Palestinian Christians to leave the country, it is also pressure from Islamic extremists who want to Islamitize the country.  It is shortsightedness on both fronts.  The only good news in this is for the States.  This region’s loss is our gain.)

Vulture circling the ruins of ancient Gamla -- famous site of Jewish Zealots.

One Day at a Time Babe

3 minute read.

We lay together in the dark.  I am on her right, a position I’ve managed to hold on to for 37 years now.  We are on our backs staring at the ceiling that we cannot see.  The fingers of her right hand are interlaced with the fingers on my left hand.  She is softly crying.

“I’ll miss you,” she whispers.

“I know,” I say.  “Me too.”

“Six weeks.”

“Yes, six weeks.”

Silence.

“Our anniversary is the 6th.”

“I know.  I remember.  I was there too.”

She chuckles.  Quiet again.

“Emma’s birthday is tomorrow,” she says.

I say, “Please. Don’t.”  Now the tears well up in my eyes too.

“I wasn’t trying to make you feel badly.  It’s just that …”

“I know,” I say.

“Six weeks.”

“Yes.”

“That’s a long time.”

“One day at a time, babe.  One little day at a time.”

I can feel her nodding her head.  “Yes,” she says.  “That’s right.”

As I write this Sally is somewhere over the Mediterranean on her way to Istanbul.  Then she is on to Chicago, then Zeeland, Michigan, and then, it’s Emma-time.  God-willing, our grandson will be born this week-end, or at the latest, early next week.  And I won’t be there.

I’m staying here because it is important that I not leave.  It’s important to me to get a flavor, a small flavor, of what thousands of Palestinian Christians taste as a regular dose of bitter occupation medicine.  I choose to take this medicine.  And no, I’m not being heroic, and please do not feel sorry for me.  I choose this, and therefore my family is left with no choice.  I’ve chosen for us all.  I do so in order to stand in solidarity with our oppressed brothers and sisters who routinely miss anniversaries and birthdays and births and weddings and funerals – and need I say more?  And who is it that makes this choice for them?  And how does it feel to have no choice, but to be forced to live with what has been chosen for you?  And what should you and I do to stand with them?

I once asked an older Palestinian Christian friend how she lived with the separation.  Her married daughter, husband and two children live in the United States, not by choice but by no other choice.  If given a choice they would live in the land of their ancestors.  If given a choice they would choose what so many Jews around the world are choosing.  They would choose to come to the land of their fathers and mothers and work along side their brothers and sisters to make as much out of this land as they could.  They would choose to make this land a safe place to raise their children and to watch their grandchildren grow.  And they would choose to do all of this along side of their Jewish cousins.  But they do not have this choice.  And what should you and I do about that?

“One day at a time.  One little day at a time.”  My Christian friend said this as if it was gospel truth.  “Do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring worries of its own.  Today’s trouble is enough for today” (Matthew 6:34).

Try explaining that part of the Word to 4-year-old Emma.