I Give Them the Courage of Love, Not to Hate

Advent 2 – Isaiah
Isaiah 1.1-10

“A shoot shall come out from the stump of Jesse….He shall not judge by what his eyes see, or decide by what his ears hear…”

Isaiah cries out for a wise ruler who will bring peace. His cry touches my heart because I, too, long for such a leader, a president with the spirit of wisdom and understanding, the spirit of knowledge. In these days when we long for our sons and husbands and fathers to return from Iraq and Afghanistan and Korea, we pray for wise leaders to make the world a safer place for us and for our children and grandchildren. We say—if only we had the right leaders, we could live in peace.

In his description of the ideal king, Isaiah touches on a key principle held by the Palestinians I have met who have not given up in their struggle for human rights. Time and again I have heard these tireless leaders echo Isaiah’s words, saying: We do not focus on the way things are for us here in Palestine. We do not dwell on the injustices of the past; we choose to focus on the future, on the way we believe things should be.

Instead of bemoaning the difficulties of life under occupation—the endless lines at the checkpoint in Bethlehem, the humiliation of the soldiers’ guns pointing at shoppers in the market in Hebron, the demolition orders on so many of their homes—these leaders focus instead on the future. They build schools and health clinics; they start a business exporting olive oil or beer. These leaders have made a choice. Each one has refused to “judge by what his (her) eyes see.” Instead, they choose to judge by the life they can imagine for their children. They judge by what will surely come…..someday.

These Palestinians have learned well from their ancestors—prophets like Isaiah, who lived in their land centuries ago. They are patient, willing to wait for the change they know will come. They have waited sixty years for justice following forced removal from their towns and villages by Jewish paramilitaries. They have waited in prison for charges to be brought, for trials to begin and for sentences to be finished. They have waited in line for building permits that are never issued.

In the West Bank village of Beit Ummar, I met Farhan Alqam, who was elected mayor of the town in 2006, but never got to serve because he was jailed, along with most of the officials elected on the Hamas ticket. He is an engineer and a poet, and the people of Beit Ummar thought he was the one with the wisdom to be their leader when they elected him mayor in 2006. Israel has confiscated the land on three sides of the town for its settlements and Israeli soldiers have built a guard tower on the one road into Beit Ummar that is still open. Each day, Israeli soldiers decide whether to open the only entrance into Beit Ummar, or not.

Farhan, who was eventually released from prison, is a gentle man with an engaging smile. Sitting in his mother’s home, with his youngest son, Salah Ad-Din, on his lap, he told us, “The human feelings will have the victory.” Salah Ad-Din was five the last time his father was arrested. Farhan’s mother smiled proudly as he said he believes “in the power of people to give human rights for all the humans.” He has been arrested three times for resisting Israel’s building of the wall, the confiscation of Beit Ummar’s land, and the building of settlements around the town, cutting it off from the rest of the West Bank.

Where does he find hope? “Every good action, even if very small, gives me more hope—a hole for the light to pass through.” This Hamas leader told us, “I teach my sons and daughters to love, not hate; I give them the courage of love, not to hate. Love needs courage; hate does not.” But, he says, “love is stronger than hate.” He tells us this is what the prophet Mohammad taught: “Hate is very dangerous for the human being. War is easy; peace is hard.”

“When we change, the leaders will be changed.” As the prophet Mohammad said, “As the people are, the leaders will be.”

O God of wisdom and understanding, we thank you for prophets who do not see only with the eye and hear only with the ear, but see your good creation and declare your way of peace for the world. Give us discerning hearts and the courage to proclaim your ways in the political marketplace. Help us become people who raise up wise leaders and support them in their efforts for peacemaking. Amen.

Advent 1, Week of November 21 - Gospel of Matthew

Advent 1
Read Matthew 24.36-44
“Therefore you also must be ready,
For the Son-of-Man is coming at an unexpected hour.” (Matt 24.44)

When Americans “discover” that there actually are Palestinians who are Christian, our first impulse is to ask, “How did your family become Christian?” We assume that these Arabs must have converted from Islam, perhaps in the last century when the European colonizers were busy staking out their claims to the Holy Land.

How did your family become Christian? They answer: “Well, you’ve read about us in the book of Acts.” Remember? When the Holy Spirit came in the wind? And the tongues of fire that rested on each of them, and the people of Jerusalem came and heard the disciples speaking in their own languages? The ancestors of the Palestinians were there; they heard Peter’s sermon and were baptized.

In recent weeks, watching the frantic efforts to keep the “peace talks” moving—or, more accurately, getting them started— it has felt a lot like the chaotic scenarios the writer describes in Matthew’s gospel. No one knows about “that day and the hour,” so diplomats and special envoys and presidents and prime ministers and secretaries of state fly back and forth—Jerusalem to Washington and back again. The news we hear is as capricious as the fate of the two men in the field—there seems to be no rhyme or reason to offers made to get the talks started. The situation seems totally out of control.

Everyone is talking, but no one seems to be listening and, despite all the talk, nothing has changed for the Palestinians, who are still waiting for hours at the checkpoint to get to work. Nothing had changed for Izz Ad-Din Al-Kawazba who was killed October 3, by Israeli soldiers’ bullets on his daily commute to work—as he sneaked past the wall to work illegally in Jerusalem (read the news account from Ma’an News).
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So, what are we to do? Strap bombs to our chests and board a bus in Jerusalem? Go Christmas shopping so we don’t have to think about it? Do we boycott Israeli goods made in the occupied territories, or do we wait, trusting that President Obama’s plan will bring justice for Palestinians?

Like the Palestinians, the disciples who heard Jesus’ words were living under an occupying army. Their daily reality was uncertainty—like the two women grinding meal, they never knew when they might be snatched away by Rome’s soldiers. Like the writer of Matthew’s gospel, we know what the disciples listening to Jesus did not know—that two chapters ahead, this is what will happen to Jesus.

So, what are we to do? Jesus encourages his disciples with his vision of the future—a future when God’s way will reign. A future when they will no longer suffer Rome’s abuse. To prepare for God’s future, Jesus tells them, be watchful.

Palestinian Christians have taken to heart what Jesus teaches here. Rather than being distracted by the chaos, they hold God’s purposes in front of them as they build for the future of their country. They do not waste time sitting around lamenting their plight. Instead, next Tuesday Christians in Bethlehem are dedicating the first buildings of a new college, Dar al-Kalima—the first Lutheran college in the Middle East. Although the wall surrounds Bethlehem, these descendents of the early followers of Jesus know this is not the future God has planned for them. And so they live into a barely-imaginable future, preparing leaders for a time when there will be a Palestinian State. Photo: middle school students I met at Dar al-Kalima School in 2009.

We do not know the future. We do not know when God will make all things new. But Jesus assures us all that God’s future WILL come. And while we wait, Jesus tells us, our job is to be ready.

Gracious God, you created us for good things. Your abundance fills the world. Help us to stay awake so that we can be your faithful stewards, assuring that your good creation is shared among all. Amen.

Advent 1, Week of Nov 21 - Romans

Advent 1
Read Romans 13.11-14

“It is now the moment for you to wake from sleep….” Rom. 13.11

A year ago, in December, 2009, Christians in Palestine presented the world with a document, calling all Christians to stand with them in confronting the oppression they are suffering under Israeli occupation of their lands. The document, “A Moment of Truth,” is called the Kairos Document—testament to the urgency of their appeal. Kairos is a Greek word meaning “time,” in the sense of an opportune time, a decisive time, a moment of truth.

For Palestinians, this is indeed a decisive time—for more than sixty years they have been waiting for resolution to their claims for land. When families fled from their homes in 1948, they locked their doors and took their keys, planning to return in a few days or weeks when the violence ended. They planned to return to harvest their olives and their lemons and apricots. Most of them left in a hurry, taking only a few belongings—old blankets for sleeping along the roads, some old pots for cooking or carrying water. They left most of their possessions—linens, dishes, clothing—safely locked in their homes, awaiting their return.

Now is a decisive time for all of us—President Obama began his administration with strong words supporting a peace agreement, strong words expressing respect for Arab rights. In early 2009, it seemed that it was a decisive time—that now something would finally be happening to bring resolution to the long-festering conflict. This fall we saw Palestinian and Israeli leaders meet face-to-face for talks. We have heard strong support from Secretary of State Clinton, strong words encouraging Israel to cooperate by freezing settlement construction.

Unfortunately, it has been all words and no actions. As Mitri Raheb, pastor of Christmas Lutheran Church in Bethlehem said when he was in Denver in September, “Enough dialogue; now it is time for action.” For seventeen years, the PLO and Israel have been negotiating, but there has been no action. Palestinians have seen no improvements in their daily lives; their situation is worse now than it has ever been.

Israel’s security wall is still being built; it winds around Israeli settlements in the West Bank, annexing lands for a buffer zone between the settlements and Palestinian villages. It is now projected to be twice the length of the Green Line, the border between Israel proper and the West Bank, which it claims to enforce. The wall is built, not on land owned by Israel, but on land owned by Palestinians—it carves up their olive orchards; it slices off pieces of their farmland; it snakes around water sources, making sure the water is on the Israeli side of the wall.

Palestinians stand at checkpoints waiting for the soldiers to recognize them and look at their travel papers so they can go to their orchards and tend their trees. Palestinian men are forced to lift up their shirts to show they have no weapons.

Photo: Waiting at the Bethlehem Checkpoint. 2000 Palestinians stand in line for two hours at the checkpoint in Bethlehem every morning, on their way to work. They must pass through checkpoints even if they are traveling to other parts of the West Bank. The wall totally surrounds many communities, forcing the people to go through a checkpoint to go anywhere, even to the neighboring Palestinian village.

The language Paul uses projects an urgency—NOW is the time for you to wake from sleep. The Palestinians know this urgency—enough is enough—NOW is the time for peace. NOW is the time for Israel to leave the West Bank. NOW is the time for freedom!

NOW, in this Advent season, is the time for Americans, too, to wake up—time to shout “Enough is enough!”

Gracious God, you are ever wakeful, watching over every one of your creatures. While we sleep, you are vigilant, protecting the weak, watching over those who suffer. In this Advent season, wake us from our slumbers. Stir us to move from words to action and join you in your liberating work. Amen.

Take a look at “End the Occupation”, which sends email action alerts to contact your elected officials to press for a resolution to the conflict. Consider subscribing to these action alerts.

Advent 1, Week of Nov 21 - Isaiah

Read Isaiah 2.1-5

“In the days to come,
the mountain of the Lord’s house
shall be established as the highest of the mountains…
All the nations shall stream to it….
‘Come, let us to up to the mountain of the Lord,
to the house of the God of Jacob;
that he may teach us his ways and that we may walk in his paths.’” (Is. 2.2-3)

If you are reading this in the morning, it is already late afternoon in Jerusalem. Today, all day long, pilgrims have been streaming into the Church of the Holy Sepulchre; the only time there is no crowd there is at 6:00 am, just after the doors are unlocked. By 8:00 or 9:00 the courtyard in front of the church is filled with people from all over the globe—groups of Africans in their colorful caftans, sturdy-looking older women from Eastern Europe, and groups from Asia and Germany and America. Cameras around their necks, they cluster around their tour guides to hear about this odd-looking building, which looks like two churches stuck together like mis-matched Siamese twins. The two churches fight for space over this place where it is believed that Jesus was crucified and buried. According to the tradition of the Jerusalem community of the followers of Christ, this is the place where Jesus was crucified. In the first century, this area was outside the walls of the city, near an abandoned stone quarry, where tombs were carved in the rock. Pilgrims have been coming to this site since the first century. Photo shows today's pilgrims entering the Church of the Holy Sepulchre.

The Church of the Holy Sepulchre is in the heart of Jerusalem. Last summer, as the sun rose over the hills to the east, I stood on the terrace of the guesthouse at the convent of Ecce Homo, and looked out over all of the city. Jerusalem is built on a cluster of hills—the Old City is on one of the highest hills; across to the east is the Mount of Olives, to the west the new city with its highrise apartments. The sun reflects off the white stone and the city shines. As I looked to the south I could see, just a block or two away, the Temple Mount. In recent years, the Temple Mount has gained notoriety as the site of protests, where rock-throwing young men protest Israeli restrictions on Palestinian movement, or the killing of Palestians by the Israeli military. But the Temple Mount is more that that; it is the mountain of the Lord where the house of the God of Jacob was built; it is the mountain Isaiah sees in his vision. Photo is the Temple Mount from the Ecce Homo convent.

Touring Jerusalem, I have seen the fulfillment of Isaiah’s vision—a holy mount where “all nations” come to hear God’s teaching and walk in God’s path through the streets of the Old City. Each day thousands of pilgrims walk Jerusalem’s streets—walking the cobblestones through the suq to reverence the first-century pavement in the Antonia Fortress where Jesus was brought before Pilate, to see the cells hewn out of the stone beneath the Church of St. Peter in Gallicantu where prisoners were held before being brought before Herod. Everywhere I walk in Jerusalem’s Old City, I see people of all nations—here Jews walk by the Arab shopkeepers’ stalls on their way to the Western Wall for Friday Shabbat; Muslims stand in line to go through security so they can pray at the Al Aksa Mosque, on a walkway built above the Western Wall where Jews rock as they pray with their prayerbooks. Christians from Senegal and Ghana and Italy and the U.S. pray with the Jews at the Wall and walk the grounds on the Temple Mount as Muslims gather for prayers.

That’s on a good day—when there are no rock-throwing groups of young Muslim men protesting the closure of the Temple Mount by Israeli soldiers, when there are no barricades blocking access to the streets of the Old City for fear of violence.

But every day, always and everywhere, there are the green-uniformed soldiers of Israel’s army and the blue-uniformed Israeli police. One time when I was walking back to our tour bus after praying at the Western Wall, I was watching a line of Jewish schoolgirls who had been praying with me. They, too, were walking in single file back to their bus, lined up with the other buses at the Lion’s gate. Suddenly I noticed a young man with a machine gun strapped to his backpack, following the girls. What was this man doing? Was he going to attack the girls? Shoot at the crowd? It was a big gun and I began to panic. I looked around and no one else seemed concerned. Why wasn’t anyone paying attention? Luckily, I didn’t scream or run over to the police, but I did keep watching the man, as he continued to follow the girls….to their school bus, where they filed onto the bus as he stood guard by the door.

There it all was—everything in Isaiah’s vision….the power of the sword, but also, in this holiest of holy places, the power of God’s holiness and God’s goodness, that power of God, which will ultimately prevail, to bring us all—Christians, Muslims, Jews, Africans, Europeans, Americans, Asians—from all the corners of the globe to “the mountain of the Lord’s house.” Isaiah’s vision has not fully been realized, but in Jerusalem it is possible to get a glimpse of what God’s future will look like….a reminder to us that what seems impossible is possible for God—hope for us in this season of hope. Come, let us go up to the mountain of the Lord…..consider traveling to the Holy Land to see the places where Jesus walked.

God of all hope, in this season of waiting, you remind us that our reality is not the last word. Help us to hold fast to Isaiah’s vision of reconciliation between the nations; give us energy and courage to work for reconciliation, so that someday we can take our unused swords and beat them into plowshares for the feeding of the world. Amen.