City of...

The promised update ended up being written as an update to send to supporters back home first, so you're getting that version. If I'm feeling particularly inspired maybe I'll write some more reflections about it here, but then again, knowing me, maybe not. It came out a bit heavier than I had originally intended, but there's a lot of heavy stuff going on here. I am trying to do better with the looking for the light bit, though. 

As Rumi says, I need more grace than I thought.  

Dear Friends,

Greetings and peace to you from Jerusalem .

I wanted to write to you specifically to share a story of a trip I took this weekend. I traveled with a group from our weekly Wednesday night volleyball group to the village of Jayyous in order to play against—I promise I’m not joking—the Palestinian championship team. Seriously. The Jayyous volleyball team had just won a Palestinian championship and had also been able to compete regionally in a tournament in Libya .

So our motley crew went to take on the best volleyball team in Palestine . They went easy on us, and we managed to hold our own enough to lose in a relatively unembarrassing fashion. Well, it was a little embarrassing.

The normality of the situation was what makes it stand out the most in my mind. Here we were, participating in what is—at least in my church upbringing—one of the most normal fellowship activities in existence, a game of volleyball. Sure, we were in the West Bank . Sure, I was talking to kids in my broken Arabic instead of chatting by the chip bowl in English. And sure, we were playing the national champions. But volleyball is volleyball, and there was something refreshingly fun and normal about this trip to the West Bank . Even the air felt familiar—a mere 20 kilometers, if that, from the beaches of Tel Aviv, the air in Jayyous is thick with humidity, just like home (and quite unlike dry Jerusalem !)

But underneath the fun and the friendship, there is sadness to this story. Jayyous is a deeply isolated village, and it was evident by how many people came out to see their championship team beat a bunch of poseurs from Jerusalem just how cut off Jayyous has become. It should be a quick 20 minute drive to the beach from Jayyous, a quick trip to the nearest city of Qalqilya, a brisk walk out to the olive groves and other agricultural land that have sustained the people of Jayyous for generations.

But cutting across the land of Jayyous, cutting it off from the sea and from the rest of the West Bank, is an apartheid wall, built and maintained by the Israeli military—a key aspect of the ongoing occupation of the Palestinian ‘territories.’

As in most rural areas, the Wall in Jayyous consists of two large fences, equipped with electronic sensors, military watchtowers, and roll after roll of barbed wire. Between the fences is a military patrol road. Red signs warn, in three languages, that entering between the fences is a quick way to get shot. The Wall cuts the people of Jayyous off from 13,900 square kilometers of their agricultural land. In order to farm their land, residents of Jayyous have to apply for a permit from the Israeli military, a permit which is rarely granted and even more rarely respected. The last time I was in Jayyous I spoke to a woman who had a permit. She had been sitting at the yellow agricultural gate through the Wall, waiting to be let in, for four hours. Military jeeps drove by, but none stopped to open the gate.

And so there was an element of tragedy in the overall comedic episode of Mount of Olives Ragtag Volleyball Team vs. Palestinian National Champions. The excitement that anyone was coming to visit Jayyous, the stories of how difficult it was for the members of the volleyball team to get permits to compete in other areas of the West Bank, much less outside of the country, the realization that most of the children talking to us had never seen either the sea or Jerusalem despite their proximity to both, tell a larger story of the physical and psychological siege of yet another village on the West Bank.

The route of the Wall through the West Bank has been declared illegal by the International Court of Justice, in a case that was decided four years ago this past Wednesday: July 9, 2004. (The full text of the ruling is available at http://stopthewall.org/internationallaw/639.shtml). But the Israeli government has ignored the ruling, and even in cases where the Israeli court has ruled against a particular part of the route of the Wall, the military has refused to dismantle it or move it.

But what can the people of Jayyous do? They could take a cue from other villages that have protested the route of the Wall, such as the village of Bil’in , which holds a weekly demonstration against the Wall and the Israeli settlements being built on their land. I was in Bil’in on July 4, and when our group of international, Israeli, and Palestinian activists approached the Wall, we were chased away with sound grenades, tear gas, and rubber bullets. (By the way, if you haven’t been tear gassed….don’t be. It’s no fun.)

Or they stay in Jayyous, surrounded by a Wall not of their own making, cut off from the rest of the world. A world that stays silent. That allows a Wall that divides human from human, child of God from child of God, farmer from field, and the people of Jayyous from peace and justice, to continue being built despite its illegality and its destructive effects.

And I wonder what role this dilemma plays in their championship volleyball team. Is it any wonder that an activity that gives you such a sense of control and power would be popular? And that this activity would involve athletic leaps, precious seconds in the air? Perhaps I am imagining things. But perhaps there is something vitally important to the people of Jayyous in being able to dream of leaping, of soaring, of flying. Over the Wall. Over their land. Over the siege. Over the settlements. Over the army. And being able to powerfully drive home some sort of point.

There is just something different about volleyball in Jayyous, where one has every reason to dream of flying.

WHAT CAN YOU DO?

Here are just 4 ideas!

1)      Continue praying for peace in this land. Pray for Palestinians and Israelis, that they may find justice, peace, and reconciliation. Pray for Palestinian Christians, who have been isolated and pushed to emigrate by the political and economic situation. Pray for those working for justice and peace in Palestine and Israel .

2)      Learn about the Apartheid Wall. Read the ICJ ruling against the wall and the resources produced by the United Nations (www.ochaopt.org, under the heading “West Bank Barrier”) and the Stop the Wall campaign (http://stopthewall.org). Consider holding an educational event about the Wall. Some groups have build replica walls to show the intimidating height and divisive character of this structure. Others have included walls in their nativity scenes to emphasize the fact that Bethlehem , the city of Jesus ’ birth, is now an open air prison, surrounded by the Wall.

3)      Support efforts to divest from the Occupation in your local church, your denomination, and other organizations and institutions you are a part of. For information on divestment in a United Methodist context, see www.unitedmethodistdivestment.com. Also, see www.investinpeace.org to see the widespread support for divestment campaigns.

4)      Support grassroots peacemaking efforts in Palestine and Israel . Consider giving to a local organization working for justice and peace, such as Sabeel (contact me for more information). Or write to Mousa Abu Maria, a Palestinian peace activist and nonviolence organizer who was taken from his home in the middle of the night and is now being held without charges in an Israeli jail. Here is his address, if you are interested in writing to him with words of encouragement and support:

Mousa Abdel Hamid Ahmed Abu Maria
Ktziot Prison
p.o

       Short letters or notes in English are the best!