A Frustration

A most difficult lesson I had to learn as I was in Israel was my utterly ignorant powerlessness. Western Culture, guy culture, my culture says that if there is a problem you go and fix it ASAP. You can't do that with poverty. You can't do that in Israel/Palestine. Especially as an outsider. No species of duct tape can tear down the security wall that divides the land with a scar.

Entering deeper and deeper into the cave of the conflict, I realized that I could do nothing to help the situation in the context I was in. I had no flashlight and my eyes were not adjusted to see through the darkness. How can you help people out of the cave if I cannot see myself.* If I tried I would end up stumbling on top of people. How helpless! For them and for me! When a human desires to help his brother or sister but cannot considering circumstances, what frustration can be worse? Several times our group walked by a few old women sitting on the side of the road holding out their hand, muttering for a spare shekel. Our group was in the middle of an ambitious tour around Jerusalem, so I guess there was no time. Yet how much would it have done for one of those women if someone would have reached out and held their hand, looked into their experienced eyes, and just suggested the celestial love of Our Father. Language need not intrude upon that moment. Nor does ethnicity or age.

Another time, some school kids were playing futbol in a Palestinian refugee camp in Bethlehem. Playing futbol with kids from anywhere in the world is my dream; I envision myself running barefoot in the African bush country, enjoying the Beautiful Game with my brothers and sisters on nothing but dirt. The ruthlessness of my want to play with those kids in the refugee camp went unfulfilled. I had to follow the tour. I was pissed.

My anger was one step in a gradual realization of my weakness, my inability to fix and help. When you see such oppression, action is a natural reaction. It is an emotional reaction, blind, but powerful. Yet I realized (and I am still realizing) that the best way I can aid these people is to understand them, listen to them, simply notice them, acknowledge that I am no better than any person living in poverty. Very important. Then, once educated and experienced, perhaps God can use me in a larger context.

I made a Palestinian friend in the West Bank. His name is Jamil, which means "beautiful" in Arabic. He is in his first year as a Business major at Bethlehem College, and wants to come to the US. I have his email address and he has mine. We spent the whole day together, with our group and a Palestinian youth group all in the same bus. We connected, and he will remember me as I will remember him. Relationship.

*See The Republic by Plato