Quiet Christian.

My mom told me, jokingly, that I shouldn't blog about "mundane things like chocolate bananas."  Well, Mom, here's a mundane blog about eating lunch.

I work with kindergarten, as you all are well aware.  One of the kindergarteners asked me to lunch the other day.  It was really sweet, because I wouldn't have pegged him as one of my "buddies," but he really wanted me to come for lunch.  His mom has very little English, and her Arabic has an accent that I'm not really familiar with.  Each village has a different accent, so "Kief hallick?" (How are you?) becomes "Chief hallick?", "Kiefick?", or "Cheif-in-hal?"  Her accent has a lot of lisps too.  Regardless, it was rather difficult between her English and my Arabic, to even communicate that she wanted me for lunch and when I could come.  We figured it out though, and I met up with her and her son on Tuesday, after school.

We walked to their house, which is actually in Dheisheh Refugee Camp.  Though we talk about refugee camps, they're permanent villages now.  Dheisheh was established in 1949.  There's actually a bad stigma attached to people living in refugee camps, because some people see them as lazy and land-stealers, because they were placed there in 1949, or later, and continue to live there.  I've heard teachers and other community members talk about how poorly misbehaved students from Dheisheh and the other camps are.  

There are actually three refugee camps in the immediate Bethlehem area: Dheisheh, Aida, and Al Aza.  I live about a block away from Al Aza and my school is right in front of Dheisheh.  You don't recognize them as refugee camps, because they're like building developments.  

"Under UNRWA's operational definition, Palestine refugees are persons whose normal place of residence was Palestine between June 1946 and May 1948, who lost both their homes and means of livelihood as a result of the 1948 Arab-Israeli conflict. UNRWA's services are available to all those living in its area of operations who meet this definition, who are registered with the Agency and who need assistance. UNRWA's definition of a refugee also covers the descendants through the male line of persons who became refugees in 1948. The number of registered Palestine refugees has subsequently grown from 914,000 in 1950 to more than 4.6 million in 2008, and continues to rise due to natural population growth." (http://www.un.org/unrwa/refugees/whois.html)

Back to my mundane lunch...

Im Nadim was so excited to have me to her home.  She and Nadim were beaming from ear to ear as I walked home with them.  She asked if I was okay walking the 5-10 minutes to their home, or if I would prefer a taxi.  I walk about 40 minutes home everyday, so I gladly walked.  She welcomed me into her home and almost instantly took off her hijab.  The hijab is the scarf that Muslim women wear on their heads.  It was strange to see her dark hair, instead of the bright pinks, blues, silvers, purples, greens, etc, etc, that she and other women normally wear.  I asked her about her hijab and did she like wearing it.  She exclaimed excitedly that she loved it.  She said, "It makes me closer to my God!"  In the Muslim tradition, women cover their heads for basically all men that they're not blood-related to.  Her husband, children (regardless of age), brothers, father, uncles, etc, and all women, may see her head.  Non-blood relative males, such as her brothers-in-law or father-in-law, and any other men, even doctors, are not permitted to see her head uncovered.  

She kept her hijab off, until one of the non-biological male relatives would visit.  She would quickly wrap her head with ease.  Her mother-in-law was there and saw me watching Im Nadim cover her head, and she asked if I had ever covered my head.  I saw no and she asked why.  The only answer I could really give was, "Because I'm Christian and I don't do that."  It felt like a really strange answer to give someone who believed that this brought her closer to God.  

After awhile, Im Nadim suddenly got flustered and realized that she had missed the earlier prayer time.  Muslims pray five times a day.  Men go to the mosque for some prayer times, but women only pray in their homes.  Im Nadim went and washed herself, which is a key part of preparing oneself for worship in the Islamic faith.  Most big mosques have fountains and places out front to wash their feet, hands, and faces.  They wash to purify themselves before praying to God.  She put on a long white skirt and a white shirt, that was like a long shawl with a hood.  She was so, so, SO excited to pray!  She kept saying, "I get to see my God!"  She's only a year older than I am, so it was so strange to see someone that excited for praying, especially someone as young as I am.  

I left so she could pray in peace, though she didn't want me to.  It seemed like a good time to leave.  It was a really neat experience to spend this time with a Muslim family and learn more about their faith.

While I said I was blogging about mundane things like lunch, I'm also blogging about a bunch of different experiences I've had recently.  I'm going to keep them brief, so I can tell you more about them in person.

Tent of Nations
We spent a few days retreating at the Tent of Nations.  The Tent of Nations is an organization that has been built by a family to protect their family land from encroaching settlements.  The Nasser family has owned the land since the turn of the 20th century.  As each new country took over the Palestinian Territories (Jordan, Turkey, etc), the family acquired documentation to prove the land was theirs.  They have continued to do this to protect their home, where they grew up.  The land is on top of a beautiful mountain, but is surrounded by three major settlements.  As it stands now, the family isn't allowed to build structures, nor do they have water or electricity.  They've fought hard to keep their land, though, so they invite internationals from all over the world to come and plant olive trees, gardens, or anything else that can prove that they are using the land to its fullest extent.  In theory, this will help protect it from being taken by Israel.  The next concern is that settler roads will be built, which would cut off the land from being accessible.  They'll still own their land, but they would be allowed on the surrounding land, so it would be impossible to get to.  The Nasser family is also very connected with the neighboring village of Ni'ilin.  They host English classes for women, as well as keeping computers for the village use.  The list of programs they are doing is endless.  The family is incredibly nice and works so hard to show people what hope and faith can do in the face of oppression.  It's also especially close to me, because many of the different Nasser children, from the sons, go to my school and my church.  When we went on retreat there, we cleared a field of stone and planted some olive trees.  I would encourage you to check out their website.  http://www.tentofnations.org/ 

Palm Sunday
The most common thing that people told me when they learned I was coming to the Holy Land was, "Oh!  You get to spend Christmas in Bethlehem and Easter in Jerusalem!"  Why, yes, yes I do.  I spent Palm Sunday attending the church service at Christmas Lutheran in Bethlehem and then going on to the Palm Sunday procession in Jerusalem.  At church, they do the palms differently.  There were two major palm branches in the sanctuary.  Then, each child had a palm bouquet of sorts.  It's like a bouquet of flowers, but with palms intricately designed to be crosses or weaves.  The children processed in with their palm bouquets.  Nobody else had palms though, so that was a weird sensation for me.  I really wanted my traditional palm, because that's how I defined Palm Sunday.  It's strange here though, because palm trees are as common as pine trees in Western Pennsylvania.  I'll be walking in the street and see massive piles of palm branches, where someone trimmed their tree.  It hurts me a little, because I know how special palms are when I get one in Indiana or Greensburg.  Here, though, palms are very normal.  

After church, I headed into Jerusalem with hundreds of people to walk the walk Jesus walked from Bethphage to the Old City of Jerusalem.  It was a mix of emotions, really.  On one hand, it felt like we were all heading to a sporting event.  On the other hand, here we were, walking down the Mount of Olives, towards the Garden of Gethsamene, waving palm fronds, and seeing the Dome of the Rock in the background.  It was so surreal.  There people from all over the world, including a musical group from Spain and a particularly large group from South Korea.  The other big moment for me, apart from seeing the Dome of the Rock covered by waving palms, was walking up the hill into the Old City.  We entered through Lion's Gate/Saint Stephen's Gate, and it really felt like we were "the crowd" entering the Old City walls.  It was like being in a movie.  It was awesome.  

Maundy Thursday
Maundy Thursday was a strange experience for me.  We went to a church service at the Lutheran Church of Redeemer in the German/Arabic chapel, which is quite large.  It was filled with a plethora of different Christians from all over the world.  The service included prayer petitions in English, German, Arabic, Swedish, Danish, Finnish, and probably some languages I'm forgetting.  It's not out of the ordinary to have a worship service in this many languages in the Holy Land.  I've gotten quite used to praying the Lord's Prayer while hearing it being said in several different languages around me.  After the official service, we walked through the streets of Old Jerusalem, in our "language groups," singing songs like, "Jesus Remember Me" and "Were You There?"  I've walked those streets many times before, but this was the first time where I was broadcasting my Christianity to this world, especially to Jerusalem, which is now predominately Jewish and Muslim.  In fact, this made me really uncomfortable.  I don't like being a "loud" Christian, through words, but rather through daily actions.  And here I was, the "quiet" Christian, walking through the streets of Jerusalem, past shopkeepers and businessmen, past women and children, past IDF police, past hundreds of people, singing my Savior's heartache.  It was hard.

One of the most profound moments for me was following the crowd of Christians, and looking up to see an Orthodox Jewish family passing me on the right and a Muslim family passing me on the left.  THAT is the epitome of being a Christian in the Holy Land.  We are walking the same roads, doing the same things, but in different directions.  And sometimes, I feel like, we, as Christians, are the peacemakers between the feuding religions here.  There are peacemakers among Muslims and Jews, do NOT get me wrong.  I guess I am biased through my work of being with and among people, to educate others on what is going on in this city, for real.

We ended our walk at the Orthodox Church of Mary Magdalene.  It's just a few feet up from the "recognized" Garden of Gethsemane.  I say recognized, because I feel like the Garden of Gethsemane was quite a bit larger than what is preserved right now.  

It was an interesting experience, but made me really uncomfortable overall.  Some people watched with interest as to what we were doing.  Some completely ignored the massive herd of people walking through the tight streets of the Old City, singing songs in a variety of languages.  Some people made nasty comments.  

Life
Life in general has been decent.  I'm feeling comfortable, but I'm realizing how quickly this year has gone.  I leave Palestine/Israel in three months.  Less than two of those months will be actually spent still in the school.  It's flying by!  And yes, I'm anxious to get home for some things, but I'm terrified to leave here.  This has become such a part of my identity and life, that I'm worried about coming home to a country of people who haven't seen the heartache here.  They haven't heard a 5-year-old scream how angry she was at the Israeli Defense Force for making her take off her clothes at the checkpoint on Palm Sunday, before crossing into Jerusalem, because she was a "security risk."  They haven't watched the Annexation Wall being built from their front porch.  They haven't walked the Old City of Hebron, where fences have been built across the streets, to prevent the glass bottles of urine and trash from being thrown onto Palestinians from settlers.  They haven't watched the absurd amount of soldiers, police, and even plain citizens, holding machine guns...everywhere.  They haven't watched women and children get denied from the checkpoints.  They haven't been yelled at for supporting Israel.  I could go on, and on, and on.  They, and you, have also not seen the joys of being here.  You all haven't seen how a child's face light up when she says, "Hello!  How are you?" to me in English.  You haven't seen how an old woman's face lights up when you say, "Good evening!" in Arabic.  You haven't seen a young Muslim woman excited to pray to her God.  You haven't seen the tears on the faces of Christians walking the Via Dolorosa.  You haven't eaten Maklube, Musakkhan, stuffed grape leaves, Malfuf, and all of our other delicious dishes.  And just as I can go on and on with the negatives, I can go on and on with the positives.  My year here has been a struggle, every day.  Some days are harder than others.  Some days, I walk home cursing under my breath and fighting back tears.  Some days, I smile and say hello to everyone.  It's been phenomenal.  I can't even fully process what all of this has meant to me yet.  To be a Christian, a young, educated, affluent Christian, in this place, has been a blessing.  

I feel like I should write some reflections on being a Christian here or what my work means, but this has been a pretty long post.  I'll save the deep thoughts for another day.  I have a lot of prayer requests though, so please pray for one another.

Heavenly Father,
I thank you for this time here.  I thank you for showing me the pain that rests in the hearts of Palestinians, Israelis, and Internationals alike.  I thank you for teaching me about what it means to be a "human" dealing with all of these things.  I thank you for all of my joys and successes.  To say that I have been changed in living here is an incredible understatement.  I pray that you are with all the people reading this.  I pray that they can learn from my experiences, and together, we can create a more peaceful world.  I pray for the people living here, fighting the daily struggle to get food, permits, sanity, medical care, and everything else you must FIGHT for here.  I pray that you be with me, and other volunteers, that we continue to be present and in the moment, but prepare us emotionally to leave our home here in Palestine, to teach others about what it means to live in the Occupation.  I pray for all those who are weak and suffering, especially Megan, Nelson, Cinnamon, Andrea, Aphora, David, Dana, and all those who love and care for them.  I ask that you be with us as we remember your Son's sacrifice for our freedom today.  All these things and more, I ask in your Son's most holy name.

Amen.

I wish you all a joyous Easter.

With Christ's love and sacrifice,

Meredith

Pictures:
Tent of Nations stuff: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2013555&id=175200680&l=c01ed77b96

Palm Sunday: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2013576&id=175200680&l=0840347fe6

Hebron: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2013577&id=175200680&l=d0981e3b98

Can someone comment or email me and let me know if these photo links work?  I can't really test them, since they come from my Facebook albums.  Thanks!