A Declaration Concerned With War

In a culture desensitized to hurt, I find my community to be oblivious to the horrible significance of every act of violence. I define my community as my country, my state, my church, my friends. Violence, especially warfare, is perceived as a necessity to dethrone the powers deemed "evil," by most in my community.


I, on ethical and Spiritual grounds, declare that it is war that is unintelligent, un-creative, ignorant, and evil.


To sum up the ethical side, I invoke the words of Gandhi. "The roots of violence: wealth without work. Pleasure without conscience, knowledge without character, commerce without morality, science without humanity, worship without sacrifice, politics without principles."

Violence is the death of story. Indeed, it produces wonderful heroes, it creates epics, and amazing literature. But the price of lives to obtain these stories is not worth it. Fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters, husbands, wives, sons, daughters die in war. That is the end of that human being's story. Uncreative. Imagine the experiences if they had lived!

I find that I cannot separate myself from anyone in this world. I am the best of people, and the worst. I am Gandhi. I am the rapist on TV. I am Mother Teresa. I am the suicide bomber. To say that I am incapable of doing any of those things, good or bad, is denying that I am human. Therefore, when I hurt another human being, I am hurting myself. And I find that I also hurt God and His creation. Therefore, I need Someone to reconcile me, for I am inherantly violent because I am a fallen human.

I am solved, for I am a follower of Christ, and His Way of peace and love. I am allowed to be removed from the sins I commit past, present, future, and the sins I could have commited so that I may show others that same peace, that same love. I find numerous teachings of that love ignored by the masses of Christians. The Sermon on the Mount is to be taken literally, not as a group of suggestions. The words are a code, not a bunch of guidelines. Jesus says, Love your enemies! Pray for those who persecute you! He is not joking, or advising. How does war fit into these words?


I also see Jesus' life and crucifixion as the ultimate example of love and peace. The Jews, his people are brutally oppressed by Rome, and He has the power to end the Empire instantly. Instead, he tells his people to love, to be meek, peacekeepers, to be righteous. He had every right to go to war for his people, and he did not. Concerning His crucifixion, while any act of violence is an act of power, Jesus sacrificed himself purely powerless. With the control of the cosmos in the palm of His hand, with the armies of angels at His command, he chose not to defend himself, not to save himself, but to be killed for the people he loved. How is war, any violence, qualifed by a God who refuses to use it when He is dying.

I subscribe to the life of Jesus, the one in which he calls all of us.

I am a young man who believes in creative, militant nonviolence. I do not enjoy the sound, nor the tone people use when they call me a pacifist. I am not passive. A bystander who does nothing to prevent the outrageous injustices of this broken world is as guilty as the actions of the perpetrator of the injustice.

Instead, I ally myself with the life and works of Cesar Chavez, Martin Luther King Jr., Gandhi, and Jesus and their revolutions of peace. I seek every opportunity to show that I am my fellow human's brother. Even if it must mean looking them in the eye silently, even when they insult and beat and hurt me.

People often ask what I hold as absolute truth. Jesus, I say. That means Love, and Peace. That means I am against death, in all forms. AMEN.

Who am I Kidding?

Who am I kidding? I'm no expert in middle east studies. I've only read a book and experienced a small peek into one situation. Who am I to lecture you about the issues. I saw what I saw. I heard what I heard. I thought what I thought. I felt what I felt. Now I feel what I feel.

On the first day of our trip, we spent our jetlagged energy on a tour around old city Jerusalem. We saw many of the sites where scholars guess where Jesus spent his time. Churches are everywhere. Scholars think they know where Jesus was crucified and buried. You wouldn't recognize it today with the elaborate, gargantuan Church of the Holy Sepulcher sitting right on top of it. We saw the Wailing Wall. This is the most holy place for Jews, as it is the last remnant of the old temple that Herod built in Jesus' days. A very spiritual atmosphere surrounds that small area, not only from the wall, but the Dome of the Rock that sits on top of it. The most spectacular building in all of Jerusalem, the Dome of the Rock is an Islamic landmark where Mohammed ascended and "leapt" to Mecca. With these two holy sites, commemorating two distinctly different religions in conflict, the area has a very frustrated aire to it. As my dad says, if something bad ever happens to that area, it is World War III.

That night we met with a group of men, one Israeli, two Palestinian, who have lost family members to the violence in Israel, but have found a way to reconcile with each other in the middle of it. Remarkable, what God has done in these men, especially considering they are not "Christians" from a traditional perspective.

Probably the most direct assault upon our hearts and conscience was our time at Yad Vashem, the Holocaust museum. If there is a psychological reason Israel is oppressing Palestine, it can be found here. You know the story, I know the story, but we cannot understand the magnitude of the event for the Jewish race. What sadness is this that iI can't comprehend!!!

Most of our time in Jerusalem was sort of a sight-seeing/buildup to the rest of the trip. I find it surreal when I look back, wondering how holy God looks at the buildings humankind has erected to remember him. Are these sites any more holy than the mountains of Colorado?

The central time of our trip was the time we spent in Bethlehem. Far and away, it was the most intense and relational aspect of the trip. And no wonder! We were in the West Bank! We saw the security wall separating Israel and Palestine. We saw the poverty that grips the refugee camps in a tight fist. We saw the judicious and intimidating power of checkpoints, a power to divide the Palestinian people. We saw the slow encroachment of Israeli colonies populating a land slowly taking the resources from the native villages.

One of the most significant days, if not the most significant, was the day we went to the Dead Sea with a Palestinian youth group. I have already related part of the experience in a previous blog, but I cannot get over this experience. Faces bring humanity. Personal stories bring the reality that these are people, with emotions and thoughts and dreams and fears like me. I can build no wall between them and me, for they are doubly my brothers. On one level they are my siblings in humanity, but on a second they are my brothers and sisters in Christ. I cannot and should not forget them.

Our time in Bethlehem was too brief. We got in, we got out, then we got on with life. Even though we didn't want to. The last place we stayed in was completely different than Bethlehem. We hoteled in a resort in the Galilee. Yes, that Galilee. More sight-seeing, including the location of the Sermon on the Mount and Nazareth, but our time in Galilee was a time of much needed processing. Compared to the eventful (an understatement) nature of our time in Jerusalem and Bethlehem. The time in Galilee was fairly relaxed. We did not do as much, and I believe it was intended that way. We desperately needed to talk about what we experienced, and we did, though not as much as I hoped.

The final night and morning brought a fitting juxtaposition to end the trip. A Orthodox Jew spoke to us about the mindset of the Israelis, at least through the eyes of a religious Israeli. This speaker was sorely needed by our group, for we had not met an Israeli who could give their side of the story in a well-articulated, thought provoking dialogue. It brought a little bit more balance to the trip.

The morning before we left, a man who lives in the Gaza Strip discussed the situation there. To explain: the Palestinians inhabit two territories inside Israel--the West Bank (ironically in in eastern Israel) and the much smaller Gaza Strip. Although the issues are the same for both territories, the injustices have different faces. The West Bank is a land held captive by Israel, with the purpose of slowly forcing Palestinians out. Israel wants the West Bank. Israel really does not want the Gaza Strip. Over 1.5 million people live in Gaza, a land that is so small. We were told the Gaza Strip was the most densely populated place in the world. And while imprisonment is again the issue, this time it is a radical imprisonment. Think a zoo. More on that later.

The man that spoke might have been the highlight of my trip. We left that evening with more stories to tell than fit in one blog, and emotions than we know how to deal with.

I am overwhelmed right now. I am heart-broken with the situation in Israel. But I hear horror stories in Africa, too. And the sex-slavery in Asia. Where does the injustice end? Where can we find peace in this world? Where can I go where my heart doesn't break?

Simplistic Summary: Part One--Old Israel

To the right is a picture of the Western Wall and in the backdrop the Dome of the Rock. The Western Wall (also called Wailing Wall) is the west side of the retaining wall that has lasted since the days of the second temple that Herod built. This wall existed in Jesus' days.

Anyways, I personally have found it necessary to know the history of Israel in order to understand the grounds for the conflict in the Middle East today. All three religions involved--Christianity, Islam, and Judaism-- refer to Abraham in some way as a father figure. So that is where many have found the first seed of the conflict.


Here is how the story goes. Abram of Ur (Iraq) senses this strange God telling him to leave his native country, his familiar environment in order to wander to a distant land God is promising him. He is promised to have as many descendants as the stars in the sky or as many as the grains of sand on the beach. We find God to be a Poet. God tells him:

I will bless those who bless you and curse those who treat you with contempt. All the families on earth will be blessed through you. (Gen.12.3)

This statement is crucial to understanding Jewish theology. Israelites always believed that they were God’s chosen people. This theology has not been lost, for the Orthodox Jew population maintain an attitude of “chosen among the races.”

Abram, who became Abraham, had two sons mentioned in detail in the Bible, Ishmael and Isaac. Ishmael was the son of Abraham and his concubine, Hagar, while Isaac was the miraculous son of Abraham and his barren wife Sarah. Though Ishmael was the first-born, he and his mother were banished from Abraham’s family to die in the wilderness. This was the will of Abraham’s wife, Sarah, who desired Abraham’s inheritance to go to Isaac.

Ishmael and Hagar were abandoned to die, but God kept them alive, promising Ishmael many descendants. Traditionally, Arabs trace their heritage to Abraham through Ishmael. Muslims call Ishmael a prophet. One more interesting note, Ishmael means “God hears.”

The inheritance of Abraham went to Isaac then through to Jacob and his twelve sons. The twelve sons of Jacob, who was renamed Israel, became the twelve tribes of Israel. The family of Israel became the nation of Israel (Genesis). The nation went through four hundred years of slavery then forty years of wanderings (Exodus) before Joshua, the new leader of Israel, was told by God to conquer the peoples of Canaan and populate the land themselves. Their success fulfilled God’s covenant with Abraham. A few hundred years later, in 970 BC, King Solomon stretches the land of Israel farther than it ever was or has ever been since. The reign of King Solomon and his father King David are considered the most glorious times of the history of the Jews (2 Samuel, 1 Kings).

After the death of Solomon, lack of strong leadership, as well as disobedience to God led to the division of Israel through civil war. Israel to the North, Judah to the South. The Assyrian Empire conquered Israel in 722 BC, not only destroying the cities, but forcing the Israelites to scatter, losing every remnant of their culture. This is why citizens of Israel are called Israelis, not Israelites. There is no such thing as an Israelite today because of this event.

However, the people of Judah were able to retain their cultural uniqueness during captivity under Assyria, Babylon, Macedonia, Rome, the Mameluke Empire, the Ottoman Empire, and British occupation, before finally obtaining land in 1948. Truly amazing, huh?

Their story can be found in the Old Testament of the Bible. If you have not read their history, I thoroughly recommend it. There is enough material in the story of Israel to make hundreds of movies. Literally. The sub-plots intertwine constantly, a large reason why the conflict today is so complicated. It was never simple for Israel or for the Middle East in general.

Simplistic Summary:Introduction

After a few days to process the whirlwind of experiences I have had on the Israel/Palestine trip, I feel I can begin to give a summary of what I learned. The whole purpose of the journey into Israel was to understand the ongoing conflict between the Israelis and the Palestinians. Yes, the conflict is political and religious. But it is a cultural and relational conflict as well. These are real people, with real stories, and they are fighting.

WHY?

The next few posts can be read individually, yet the story will make much more sense if read as a cohesive unit. As a warning, it must be expressed that this is a harshly simplistic summary of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. Almost criminal. However, the story must be told, even if it is abridged. Also remember, this is a history essay from what I have heard, read, and seen so far. I might be wrong in a few places, so please tell me if I am. This is not a research paper, so I will not go to painstaking efforts to cite some things, not because I intend to plagiarize, but because I simply do not know where I received all of my information. More of it I have simply absorbed through osmosis, or on this last journey to Israel. Any questions, please ask: I would enjoy talking anytime.

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

A Surreal Return

We spent ten days in Israel. We saw the sights, we took pictures, we swam, we wrote, we read, we walked, we listened, we listened, we listened, we watched, then we talked. Three days in Jerusalem, three days in Bethlehem, three days in the Galilee region, and a day on the outskirts of Tel Aviv. When I say "we" I refer to the group I went with. The group included my dad, eight other people from my school, a family from Texas and a team from England. Twenty-Two people in all, experiencing the wild extremes of poverty and wealth in the "holy land."

I am still recovering from the trip. I am tired, I am angered, I am depressed, I am confused, I am saddened. How can I begin to relate the complexity of Israel's oppression, apartheid of the Palestinians? How can I express my own feeling of powerlessness? What really happened in the last ten days?

To me, everything and nothing. I accidentally formatted my camera's memory card. For those of you who don't know what formatting is, it means I erased all of my pictures from the entire trip. On the last day. No way to retrieve those. The picture above is my dad's.

Then, on the flight home, I left my journal in the nefarious pocket on the back of the seat in front of me. This journal has all of my thoughts from not only Israel, but my thoughts and feelings when I was in New Zealand. Devastating, really. I have a few gifts, a few poems, but I have lost a lot of evidence of the last ten days. I am attempting to find the journal, but it is unlikely that it will be returned.

Yet I have experienced so much, so much memory has been placed in my mind. How can I reconcile the wild experience I had in Israel and the West Bank while being forced back into the redundancy of life here with almost nothing physical to show for it!?