Several weeks ago, I had the opportunity to visit friends in Jerusalem and Bethlehem. Ever since attending the Christ at the Checkpoint conference eight months ago, I have looked forward to returning to these two cities. It was such a pleasure to walk around the Old City of Jerusalem again, to come face-to-face with the separation barrier in Bethlehem again, to converse with Palestinian Christians again.
Of course, there were also some new experiences! Two highlights:
Worshipping with a Messianic Jewish congregation in the Old City...
...and participating in an olive harvest!
This is Megan Giesecke, a dear friend from Wheaton. She is also an intern with the Mennonite Central Committee’s SALT program this year, and she is working at Sabeel Ecumenical Liberation Theology Center.
This is Andrew Childress, a dear friend from the days of home-schooling and youth group. He is teaching English at a school in Beit Jala (a Palestinian community next to Bethlehem).
Behind this fence is a segment of the separation barrier in east Jerusalem. We cannot accurately refer to this segment as a security barrier (no matter how much we might want to) for the simple reason that it is not even situated between Palestinians and Israelis: Palestinians are on both sides. The Israeli government chose to construct this segment of the wall right through a Palestinian community. Hence my word choice.
As I said, it was such a pleasure to re-live some of the experiences from my previous trip to Israel/Palestine. But there was one experience from that trip which I was grateful not to re-live. I want to share that experience with you now.
On our group’s final morning in the Holy Land, several of us decided to wake up early, take a taxi to the pedestrian checkpoint in Bethlehem, go through the same checkpoint that Palestinians go through on their way to work in Jerusalem, and catch a bus into the city for an early morning of exploration.
It was a great plan, and a great morning. Except for one part.
For those of you who don’t know, Bethlehem is a thoroughly Palestinian community in which thousands of Palestinian sisters and brothers in Christ live. But Bethlehem is also, for those of you who don’t know, a kind of prison. It is surrounded by the separation barrier, and any resident who leaves the city must pass through one of a few Israeli-controlled checkpoints. So they can come and go...just not freely.
We arrive at the checkpoint at 6:00 AM. It’s cold, and we’re relieved to see a small coffee stand nearby. The owner cheerfully refuses our money.
Immediately, I am struck by two observations.
First, the line.
Around five feet wide, around fifty yards long. Demarcated by metal bars on both sides. Looks like a prison, works like a cage. It is packed. Hundreds and hundreds of Palestinian men, young and old, are squeezed together, shoulder to shoulder and front to back. Like animals. Dozens of men have not yet entered the cage and are cramming to get in. Apparently, this line can start as early as three in the morning. Morning after morning after morning.
Second, the other line.
It is right next to the first. No metal bars. No people. It is an empty and open path that leads directly to the checkpoint.
The first line is for Palestinians. The second line is for anybody else.
(Pictures at http://972mag.com/bethlehem17712/17712/)
Our group walks past the Palestinians with painful ease. I make eye contact once -- never again. Not because they were trying to shame us, but because they didn’t have to.
They live here. They have always lived here. They have worked these jobs for years and years, and they used to go to them freely, but around a decade ago the Israeli government decided to change that. Now they wake up hours earlier than is necessary, so that they can stand in a line and be treated like livestock until an 18-year-old punk with a gun gives them permission to go to work.
These are our sisters and brothers in Christ.
Lord have mercy on those who allow their foremost familial allegiance to be trumped by a political one.
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