Walls and Checkpoints: We Are Witnesses

Walls and Checkpoints: We Are Witnesses

The day we experienced a “check point” for the first time, I came face-to-face with what has come to symbolize the Israeli-Palestinian Conflict for me:  the wall – 30-foot high, with surveillance towers in some places, guarded by armed soldiers.  This is what “the Occupation” of one’s homeland looks like.

We walked through the barred cages, designed to control cattle going to slaughter, just to cross from Bethlehem into to Jerusalem.   It was a humiliating ordeal and since then the wall’s presence has been like a huge weight on my heart and mind.   A sense of dismay overtook me.  This is what “the Occupation” looks and feels like.

Though we are told the walls are for “security”, in reality we witnessed how these checkpoints control movement between West Bank towns.  Everyday thousands of Palestinians must stand in the heat, rain, or cold with no access to water or bathrooms just to get to work, medical services, or visit family. There are no accommodations for the sick, elderly or disabled. Special permission is required to get an ambulance!   The process can take up to three or four hours with no guarantee of getting though even with correct papers or permits!  The soldiers are in charge and everyone crosses at their discretion.  They decide whether you have an emergency or “good reason” to pass through; routine Intimidation and harassment.   This is how “the Occupation” thwarts daily life!

Our group was fortunate to travel by bus, but even then, we would have to wait with passports in hand as armed soldiers walked through the bus.    Palestinians, who drive to the gate, must first have the correct license plates to indicate where the driver may travel.  At the checkpoint, the drivers must get out of their cars and walk around to the window – which is on the passenger side of the car – to show their permit and identification.  The one hospital that services Palestinians has been able to negotiate terms to facilitate the checkpoint process for medical doctors; support staff, nurses and technicians are not allowed this ‘privilege’. This is how “the Occupation” frustrates daily life!

At first I wondered why my heart was so heavy and why it was hard to breathe.  The wall not only prevents freedom of movement; it can pervade one’s sense of freedom internally and emotionally.  It’s easy to see how stressful and demoralizing this daily ordeal is and why there are high occurrences of anxiety, stress and high blood pressure.  Finally I realized what I was sensing, no — smelling — is stench of hatred that permeates the atmosphere; the effect of apartheid in full bloom.  This is how “the Occupation” can seep into one’s very being.

At one point on the journey we met with an Israeli woman who volunteers for Checkpoint Watch, a group of Israeli women that monitors and reports on the soldiers’ treatment of Palestinians.  This effort to protect Palestinian human rights and the resolve of the Palestinian people to endure without violence are signs of hope in the land of promises.  We are witnesses!   This sense of hope is the sustenance that feeds the spirit!

According to Wendy Brown “One place tensions nest in the new walls striating the globe, walls whose frenzied building was underway even as the crumbling of old bastilles of Cold War Europe and apartheid in South Africa was being internationally celebrated.  Best known are the United States-built behemoth along its southern border and the Israeli-built wall snaking through the West Bank, two projects that share technology, subcontracting and refer to each other for legitimacy.” (Walled States, Waning Sovereignty, p.8)

Do walls make good neighbors?

Janis Brown, 2012 MDiv Candidate

Claremont School of Theology

Ain’t No Wall High Enough

Tiauna stated in a previous post here, that the separation wall will forever be etched in her mind. I echo her sentiments. The experience of having to live behind a wall that’s 30ft. high and go through check-points of interrogation in your daily goings and comings will never leave my mind. I felt de-humanized. Israeli Soldiers with rifles never out of sight. Children were desperate for a simple drink of water. That’s their crime; little terrorists…I hardly think so! These examples are just snippets. There is much harsh injustice among people of the Holy Land. While the land is Holy, the people are demonstrating un-Holy behavior. As we listened and learned about the impact of the Israeli Occupation upon the lives and livelihood of Palestinians in the West Bank, in and around Hebron and Israel, I constantly made global connections to the state of relations in my beloved U.S. of A.

Over the centuries people who misunderstood or misinterpreted the Bible have done terrible things. The Bible has been misused to cause animosity and separation among people. This is the root of the Israeli Occupation. I think about my own family roots. Sociologically speaking, the Chambers family unit, as an institution, was deeply rooted in religious principles. Biblical values from a Black Baptist viewpoint always remained the focus of living daily life. I am not saying that we were religious fanatics, but just always maintained a strong faith in God. Our values were promoted through the generations as our roots stem from slavery. My great-grandparents were born into slavery. People used the Bible to uphold this practice. My grandparents lived in the world of segregation for 90% of their lives. My parents and other extended family lived through the great depression of the 30’s, segregation and the Jim Crow era. People used literal interpretations of the Bible to uphold these oppressions as well. However, as a family, we found strength in religion and the Bible, which promoted a sense of “together we can’t fall” mentality. Mediums used to empower, strengthen and sustain us through these difficult time periods were quality family time, education, agriculture (growing and sharing goods), service to church and others. Respect for elders and others was HUGE. My family knew that when you “work it like this” it makes living behind “walls” more tolerable. In a deeper sense, it is really like tearing down the wall and building up hope in one another. God’s grace was and is still always “in the mix” helping us to survive situations.”

Sad thing is ….the more things change the more they stay the same. It is 2011 and many of us still have to live our lives in fear behind “invisible walls” of systemic oppression right here in the U.S. Attorney Michelle Alexander, tells us in her book, The New Jim Crow: Mass Incarceration in the age of Colorblindness, on pages 1-2 that “In each generation, new tactics have been used for achieving the same goals. What has changed since the collapse of Jim Crow has less to do with the basic structure of our society than with the language we use to justify it. In the era of colorblindness, it is no longer socially permissible to use race, explicitly, as a justification for discrimination, exclusion, and social contempt. So we don’t. Rather than rely on race, we use our criminal justice system to label people of color “criminals: and then engage in all the practices we supposedly left behind. Today it is perfectly legal to discriminate against criminals in nearly all the ways that it was once legal to discriminate against African Americans.” Atty. Alexander has pointed out this clear fact of what’s happening in the daily lives of Blacks (men in particular). I must expound on the fact that this same strategy is used towards other minority classifications. This is a prime example of more human constructed WALLS from the empirical belief system!! God forgive them and please cover us with your mercy and grace.

Many of us tend to view our own suffering as private and it’s not. When we view things this way, it prevents us from addressing the overarching systems of domination, violence, oppression, and exploitation that are brutalizing us all in one way or another (though certainly some more immediately than others). We also remain blind to the opportunities for struggling in solidarity with people whose lives may seem very different from ours but are actually being shaped by the very same social forces that have wounded us, for example the Israeli occupation and all those affected by it. Too far away to envision…OK, then let’s bring it back home… how about the people living on the other side of your town who nonetheless, because of economic or other factors, can too often seem worlds away. When we think about interpersonal wounds, traumas, events that shape our lives (such as the ones I’ve mentioned for myself in the preceding paragraphs), we have to remember that the origin is social. This means our suffering is not really private, but global. We are connected to others in the world whose lives were shaped by any of the following, whether they themselves experienced it or whether they were raised and taught by people who had:

• Military service in a war
• Life in a war zone
• Slavery (as enslaved person or slaveholder)
• Oppression based on race, ethnicity, gender, physical or mental ability, or sexual orientation
• Violence against oppressed peoples
• Immigration
• Sacrifice of ethnicity to become a “White” American
• Survival of the Great Depression or another economic crisis
• Movement from one economic class to another
• Torture or genocide
• Religious or political persecution

Of course this is a limited list of examples. Keep in mind that dysfunction comes not just from being on the receiving end of oppression but from becoming an agent of oppression one’s self. Oppression brutalizes the oppressed and costs the oppressor her or his humanity. I would invite you to reflect upon how your own life has been impacted by social traumas. To whom does your suffering connect you? For example, if you were abused by someone who fought in a war, then you are now connected to the children of veterans returning from Iraq, to children of military men and women all over the world, and to the children of guerrilla warriors and freedom fighters as well.

I am certainly not saying that this is an excuse for any kind of interpersonal abuse or to let the perpetrators of that abuse off the hook by blaming social factors. We are each responsible for our own behavior, no matter what we experienced. At the same time, it is naïve to ignore the legacy of suffering that affects human behavior.

My hope is that, as more of us begin to unearth these kinds of global connections, we will begin to recognize the need not only for personal healing (which while essential can too often take the form of learning to accommodate one’s self to an unjust and brutal world, which actually isn’t healing at all) but for social healing and that we can begin to approach our social change work in terms of that healing. When we realize that we have more in common than not, we know that our suffering is not in isolation. We can begin to affect change from the inside out. If we do this work, then thank God, Ain’t No Wall High Enough to keep us from God’s grace. Amen.

Georgia Chambers, M.A.
Eden Theological Seminary

At the sea of Galilee

At the Sea of Galilee
Where Jesus called Simon to be fishers of men

I felt ashamed

I felt ashamed to be at the place
Where Jesus embodied
Courageous faith
And called for fearlessness
And required us to stretch out our hands
To one another
To keep from drowning

There we were in Palestine/Israel
Days after experiencing nights in the West Bank
Days after spending time in Aroob refugee camp
Days after walking through the Bethlehem checkpoint

And going to the Sea of Galilee
made it evident to me
that the seperation wall
is now etched in my mind

The wall that blocks neighbors
From stretching out their hands
To one another
To prevent from drowning in
historical trama and
painful narratives

At the Sea of Galilee
all I could think about
is the seperation wall

God, how can we fishers of men, women, boys, and girls in this place?

- Tiauna, Chicago Theological Seminary

Never Give Up Hope! Keep HOPE Alive!!

We’ve all seen it happen. Someone in a group expresses anger about some way that racism, sexism, classism or another form of oppression is operating. Sometimes chaos even breaks out. Some people start yelling, others withdraw into silence. Some may leave the area that is dear to their heart. Some may organize themselves using non-violent approaches to justice. And then…there is the oppressor who will try to “coach” the angry people into “more appropriate” anger management through the flashing of guns in their faces. In the mind of the oppressor, this “more appropriate” technique is divinely designed to preserve the status quo. Hope seems to slip away…sometimes second by second.

God of All,
Thank you for being ever-present in all situations. As we encounter personal trials or immerse ourselves in carrying the cross of another, help us to stay present in the face of rage, to you and to ourselves. Help us O’ Lord to discern ways to help others stay present to you and to themselves. Lead us Lord into ways that these moments can actually deepen our relationships and further the movement towards justice for everyone. God we know this is the power of a critical presence!
The light of God surrounds us, the love of God enfoldsus. The power of God protects us. The presence of God watches over us. Where ever we are, God is. Wherever God is, Hope is Alive. In the name of Jesus the Christ, our movement founder and redeemer. Amen.

Georgia Chambers, M.A.
Eden Theological Seminary

And Now Ramallah

This is our seventh day in Israel/Palestine and the situation is less cloudy but more nuanced and complex.  As  I write this, I’m setting in the Malkite Church in Ramallah, the cultural center of Palestine.  

Judging from the street traffic, this is also an economic center and demonstrates just how vital a free Palestinian state could be.  
This is a beautiful old church with polished marble floors, fine grained wooden pews, and astounding iconography.   The liturgy here must be something to witness.  I know it is a cool place on a very hot day in Ramallah.

We passed through two checkpoints on our way from Jerusalem and stopped at one to visit with a woman who works for an advocacy group.  These Israeli women stand at these check points where Palestinians walk through the cattle lane style chutes in order to get to work each day.  They record any abuses they witness, some in writing some on digital video and advocate where they think they might be effective.

I’m learning just how oppressive and disruptive of daily life an occupation can be; at the same time, the volunteer acknowledged that the wall and the checkpoints really don’t do much to increase Israeli security and she and the organization don’t support them.

Layer upon layer, the story of occupation and oppression builds. I’m wondering along with Bob Dylan, “How many times can a man turn his head, pretending he just doesn’t see?”

Kelly Gindlesberger
M.Div. Student Phillips Theological Seminary

No matter who you are or where you’re from…

Yesterday we had lunch in small groups with local Palestinian families. It amazes me how sometimes those who have the least, offer the most. The family that welcomed me into their home offered me a huge, delicious traditional meal and refused to take no for an answer when I tried to eat a small portion. The meal concluded with melon for dessert and delicious coffee which they call “Turkish coffee,” influenced by Turkey when it occupied Palestine. It is served in small cups and tastes similar to espresso…very yummy.

This family has water come out of their faucets twice a week in the summer. They say that this is because the Jewish settlers need water to fill their swimming pools in this sweltering summer months, so the Israelis are very stingy in rationing the water supply to Palestinian homes. This family, who never knows for sure when they might have water, offered me a glass of water as they welcomed me into their home with 5 jolly smiles.

The members of my group were Barbara (my friend from the CTS), one young man from the UK and two other young adults from Sweden. We had a beautiful conversation as we processed everything that we had been experiencing this week, all coming from different social locations. I learned that each of us was working in some type of ministry. Iain works with the homeless and youth in the UK, Gustav lives with a Simply Way ministry in Sweden, and Christina just finished her M.Div. and is seeking ordination in the Lutheran Church in Sweden. We all came from different contexts but discovered over a meal that we each share something in common- we are moved to action by what we see here in Palestine. Our hearts are filled with compassion for what we have seen, but we often feel anger at the situation and the evil that is present in this genocide. We are each learning in our own way to channel that anger into peacemaking and positive change as we brainstorm what we will do when we each go back to our countries as new, transformed people next week.

Iaain, the young man from the UK, aske me about myself. When I told him that I was in seminary seeking ordination in the UCC, he responded with, “The UCC…yes. I know about that.” My mouth dropped. How did this young man from the UK know about a denomination that most of my friends in the US scratch their heads about. “You know about the UCC…?” I asked, puzzled. “Yes,” he said…the United Church of Christ.”

Iain knew of the UCC because of what he called our “excellent ads.” He then began to describe to the two Swedish young people in the room about the “bouncer” and “projector ads,” quoting the “you are welcome here” phrase that they each end with. I was truly astonished! Apparently, Iain recently took a course on social media in ministry in the UK, and the students studied the UCC’s positive and influential ad campaign as an example of successful religious media!

No matter who you are or where you’re from….you are welcome here. I hope that this message will forever reach the UK and beyond.

Cecilia Faith Runge, United Theological Seminary of the Twin Cities

Pray for Palestine

I haven’t been able to blog the past couple of days because I am overwhelmed. I am overwhelmed by the suffering that I am seeing. The checkpoints. The invasive soldiers. The constant humiliation. The lies.

I am overwhelmed with shame for being a citizen of the country that perpetuates this violence…the same country that has declared that it will veto the UN vote in September to free Palestine. I am ashamed to tell my new international friends at the Sabeel conference where I am from.

When I arrived in Israel/Palestine last week, I was not sure what to expect. I was nervous. My only real exposure to the conflict here was in the media and a few books that I had read in preparation for the trip. Images of aggressive “Arabs” cluttered my mind…Islamophobic, ignorant images. I didn’t ever believe these things in my heart, but I arrived here searching for answers.

In just 5 short days, I have found answers. I have been graciously welcomed in the homes of Palestinian families. I have been guided through Holy ground with Palestinians as my guide. I have broken bread with some of the warmest, most beautiful and hopeful people who I have ever encountered. Most of all, I have heard countless stories. I have seen the handmade, traditional Palestinian garment that one man’s grandmother wore in her wedding…a huge celebration in culture here. I have seen the old, rusty, heavy keys that one family holds onto in hope that they will one day use them to open the door to their home that they were forced out of. I watched Jimmy Neutron with an 11-year old Palestinian boy (dubbed over in Arabic, of course) while his little brother modeled his goofy hat collection for me, vying for my attention. I have been blessed with the gift of sacred conversation, as Palestinian families share their narratives with my friends and I with such vulnerability and openness. I feel welcomed, safe, and inspired in Palestine.

These indiduals tell us what it’s like to be denied access to places that hold their dearest memories and heritage. They tell us what it’s like to not know when you will have water pour from your faucet again. They talk about the “curfews” that the Israel military enforces, which in reality are house arrest. They talk about how humiliating it is when you spend hours waiting in cramped, sweaty lines in tight corridors at the Checkpoints, hoping that the soldiers will grant you access that day to what used to be your homeland, so that you can go to your job that day. They talk about how terrifying and invasive it is when soldiers trample into their homes without even a knock, forcing everyone to show their ID cards before piling up into one room while they the soliders steal any money, gold, and jewelry that the might have been fortunate enough to have. They tell us how humiliating it is when you must defy your religious convictions in order to humor soliders who require you to lift up your clothing and expose your bare skin.

I am experiencing the most beautiful, radical hospitality in Palestine. How fitting it is that Jesus Christ, the man who I try everyday to emulate, was also a Palestinian.

I am overwhelmed by the sense of community, family, values, and warmth that I feel in the homes that I visit and the meetings that I participate in. I don’t know what else to say except that I am humbled.

Cecilia Faith Runge, United Theological Seminary of the Twin Cities

Day 5: Peace in Palestine?

-Tiauna Boyd
Chicago Theological Seminary

Peace abides in breathing.

Peace lies within the soul waiting to be integrated into every part of our being through breath. The sweeping current of air races into the oral cavity. Oxygen anticipating the sacred opportunity to meet peace dances downward into the trachea. Intercostal muscles hear the hum of rushing air in the distance and rise in expectancy. The rib cage stretches wide, cultivating an opportunity for the life-giving force of oxygen to meet the innate peace that blankets the human soul in hopes of a fruitful connection- a connection so authentic that it gives and birth to love.

Right now, it is hard to breathe in Palestine.

Theological implications that nurture the strong hands of separation and fear grip tightly around my throat canals, and little air can seep through. My throat contracts with compassion and grows dense with tears as words from brokenhearted Palestinian women, humiliated Palestinian men, and devastated Palestinian children tread heavily on my conscious: I am human, and yet here we are treated like animals. I just want to be treated as a human- as an equal.
In the refugee camp on Saturday, it was hard to breathe.

Inhaling the smog of poverty, my lungs filled up with the pollution of the seductive ideologies’ that influenced others to rationalize segregation as a means for safety- and act on that belief by misplacing communities.

In Bethlehem on Sunday, it was hard to breathe.

At the place where the Christian believer’s Prince of Peace was born, I surprisingly find myself teetering on the brink of death through suffocation- in the Church of the Nativity my breathing was cut shallow by the consequences of separation. And as we a sat and had lunch in Sammy’s home yesterday afternoon, my lungs throbbed with empathy as I was ministered to by the sacred hospitality that ran rich through Sammy’s warmth and his families extravagant welcome and care for us- not strangers, not even neighbors, but brothers and sisters.

Today, my lungs hurt in Jerusalem.

They hurt with the invasion of infected air contaminated with the wounds that were deep in Jewish history, and with the pain that was fresh in Palestinian reality. My lungs throbbed as I repeatedly witnessed boundaries that attempted separate the human family through paralyzing the connection of life-giving oxygen with universal innate peace.

Peace abides in breathing.

And in Israel and Palestine my lungs rose and fell in tension- sometimes crowded by lethal doses fear and segregation, other times swarmed with the toxins of misunderstanding and heavy trepidation.

Peace abides in breathing.

And in Israel and in Palestine, the clouded fog of “us” “them” mentality held captive the reality of my brothers and sisters Israel, and I found myself struggling to inhale.

Peace abides in breathing.

In Israel and in Palestine, my breathing was devastated by continual miscarriage- shallow sips of life-giving oxygen briefly mingled with peace, but the unrest at the foundation of my soul was not able to foster an adequate connection to give birth to unbounded love.

Still speaking God, what is it that you require?
Do justice.
Love mercy.
Walk humbly.

Day One…Continued!

July 20, 2011

As I tip-toed through the Church of the nativity with 8 others in our group, I could hear the echoes of 16 feet shuffling across the dusty ground and my breathing shallowed. Quietly, I inhaled and exhaled attempting to balance commotion caused by my traveling feet with the stillness of my breath. As we watched men prepare for their service just a few steps away, I was mindful that my presence in this place was a disturbance of some sort. So I tried to get quiet, to be still, and just watch.

I felt like I was at a funeral in the Church of the Nativity. I felt as if I was peering over into a church built by a grieving people.

Statues, pictures, and various images of Jesus on the cross, suffering, in agony were scattered about through this building. My thoughts began to wonder as we traveled down into the grotto to touch the place where Jesus was believed to lie as a baby wrapped in swaddling clothes.

What was the function, the purpose, of this place?

Birth is a celebration of life.

How was it that this building invoked a stronger sense of Jesus’ death? As I made my way out of the Church of the Nativity this afternoon, I wondered to myself: how was this building celebrating Jesus’ birth?

As the day went on we heard from our Sabeel host Nadine and Kathryn, and we heard from Dr. Qumsiyeh about the injustices in present day Palestine/Israel, it was clear that many people (many fathers, many mothers, and many children), are suffering under the weight of occupation.

I thought back to that somber church building. I thought of tourist who travel from far and wide to come to that building in sorrow, overcome with feelings of deep loss, grief, and pain over the sacrifice of a divine son- who came born as baby and died for us all.

I was reminded of Luke 23:28: But Jesus turned to them and said ‘Daughters of Jerusalem, do not weep for me, but weep for yourselves and for your children.’
“Do not weep for me’’, Jesus said.

“Do not weep for me’’.

Who comes to Bethlehem to weep for our Palestinian brothers and sisters, sons and daughters, suffocating and silenced under the violent and dehumanizing force of evil that is manifested in the separation wall?

Who will weep for them?
By: Tiauna Boyd, Chicago Theological Seminary

Day Two in the Holy Land

Reflecting on a day in Jerusalem is difficult at best and mind bending as it gets worse.  The Council of Theological students is spending ten days in the presence of amazing people who are dealing with the daily oppression of decades juxtaposed against the most significant holy sites of Christianity along with Judaism and  Islam.

 Today we spent time at the Sabeel headquarters conversing with two people committed to resolving the Isreal/Palestine issues while at the same time resisting the oppression imposed upon the Palestinian people and helping individuals deal with the humiliation and degradation of oppression.  

It is humbling to witness theology in action; especially when it is so parallel to the teaching and geography of Jesus.  Sabeel is living out the true mission of the church and bringing true meaning to the Good News of the gospel.

What we need to realize is that there is nothing magical  about what they are doing.  These are normal people doing extraordinary things simply by showing up every day and remaining committed to the work to which they are called.  And they make a real difference in people’s lives;  Good News.

We also need to realize that we too can do this.  Perhaps in less dramatic ways and in less oppressive circumstances.   When you stop and think about it, it may be the only course that saves the mainline church.

Peace to you as we experience Israel/Palestine,

Pastor Kelly Gindlesberger
FCC Kinsly, KS and M.Div.
Student at Phillips Theological Seminary