Delayed post from 23 February 2016

As we walk through silent, little Bethlehem, I can still hear the three wise men roaming through these narrow streets with their donkeys’ rhythmical clack of hooves fading into the flagrant symphony of commerce and daily affairs that takes place in Palestinian suqs (markets). If anything elevates Bet Sahour over the archeological sites we have visited so far it is the liveliness and musicality that hardly occurs within the granite walls of temples erected for the sun-baked gods of antiquity. The schools, churches, mosques, food shops and other ‘normal’ businesses fill the town with an air of that everyday festivity that is characteristic of small, picturesque towns. And it is this ‘everydayness’ that especially brings to life the miraculous events of old that occurred in this area: there are still flocks of sheep placidly grazing in Shepherds Field where the angels first announced Jesus’ birth, there is still a manger in the hypothetical ‘stable’ where baby Jesus was born, there is still an olive tree where wee, faithful Zacheus climbed just to take a glance at the famed Jesus in his ministry. The divine merging of ancient and contemporary life vitalizes the area and adds an entirely new dimension to Sunday school stories. Proclaiming clearly and loudly the existence of a people, these ‘temples and ruins’ of old have managed to preserve their ‘colors’ nearly to perfection.

What has also been preserved nearly to perfection are the ‘vestiges’ of a 50-year-old martial occupation in Palestine. Hebron, the anointment place of merciful King David, withstands today the strength of Israeli military control. Embedded in Area C (West Bank territory under Israeli Civic and Martial Law), Hebron is a crystal clear example of a slow but steady socioeconomic strangulation. This town is surrounded by Israeli settlements, which are illegal Jewish colonies within Palestinian territory, and therefore experiences a deflating desolation that makes business next to impossible. Yet enterprising micro-businesspeople refuse to leave their homes and refuse to venture into more fertile markets abroad by raising their flag of resistance: to exist is to resist. In silent, little Bethlehem there is still that 2000-year-old hope for peace on earth and good will to women and men, but, since peace belongs to those that can keep it, to Bethlehemites peace takes the shape of a 13-metre-high concrete wall and numerous checkpoints where Palestinians sometimes wait for over three hours to cross in and out in order to get to their daily activities. Yet workers, university students, mothers, fathers patiently wait in these never ending lines in order to build their families, their nation, all while raising their resistance flag: to exist is to resist. The monumental temples and obelisks erected to appease the irate, ever-scowling gods evidently did not suffice in this part of the world because the lords of war are still collecting their entitled share of suffering and despair. And as we move through these people’s struggle, with no more help to offer than our condolence and companionship, we raise their flag of resistance: to exist is to resist.

We planted grape vines at Mr. Daoud Nasser’s 100-acre property. His grandfather owned the property since the Ottoman occupation, and unlike most Palestinians, he possessed documents to legitimize this ownership. The Nasser family has been farming the land since then, passing it on from generation to generation, but as settlements encroach around his property, this generational continuity has come under threat. After the overnight destruction of his 1,500 olive trees, numerous threats, and countless legal quarrels, Mr. Nasser still remains faithful to the struggle: to exist is to resist. Today he runs the Tent of Nations, an organization responsible for proactively building a better future for Palestine by strengthening the productive sector of the nation. The resistance, according to Mr. Nasser, must be built from the ground up emphasizing the role of individuals to achieve the liberation and sustenance of the Palestinian State. This idealistic and perhaps futile hope is what strengthens an entire generation that powers through a decade-long national endeavor. This reality-defying ideal is what inspires an entire country that refuses to leave the ancestral homelands clinging to that 70-year-old maxim: to exist is to resist.  And as we prepare to set out, let us say a prayer, of hands and not of mouth, to work for a day when the mass robbery of lands, the 13-metre-high apartheid walls, the excruciating checkpoints, and all the other vast and varied forms of oppression–here and everywhere–will seem as ancient and Ozymandian as the few ‘pebbles’ remaining for the rock-silent gods of power whose worship-filled reigns crumbled long ago with the resounding liberation shout: to Exist is to Resist!

-Diego Barahona

20 March 2016

Charlie Good compiled a video recording of stories from independent travel last week. It can be found on YouTube at https://youtu.be/R_Iqu6RqbEA.

7 March 2016

Last week, we arrived at Jerusalem University College (JUC) after spending a few days at the Jewish Efrat settlement in the West Bank, marking the transition from contemporary politics to ancient biblical geography. For me, this change has been a welcome one, especially after the intensity of Efrat. For once, it’s nice to be a college student again. We live in dorms, these beautiful old buildings that once housed a Palestinian Boys school. Just outside is a garden where students sit in circles for lunch, soaking up an idyllic seventy-degree sun. The rhythm of going to class and rushing to the cafeteria for lunch reminds me of the days when I was an underclassman living in the dorms, a fond memory indeed. During breaks between class, we play Knockout at the hoop just outside the academic building.

The JUC program is obviously quite distinct from a normal college class, however. After a few half days in the classroom and puttering around Jerusalem, we spent two full days exploring the biblical archeology to the east – Jericho and the Jordan River – and west to the Beit Shemesh, where David killed Goliath. In all of our studies, our wonderful professor, Aubrey Taylor, stresses the geographical and cultural understandings that are needed to place the Bible in its proper Near East context. For example, we talked about the geography around Jerusalem, emphasizing both the local valleys that protect Jerusalem to the west, south, and north, and the broader isolated Judean Hills. All to say that Jerusalem was isolated, and thus protected from invaders, but it didn’t have the access to international trade route that ran along the coast to the west. Perhaps this isolation should color our reading of how wary the Israelites were about foreigners, and their relative poverty in the hill country.

Yet, outside of this academic rigor, I’ve had fun exploring too. On Tuesday, we spent time in the City of David and walked through Hezekiah’s tunnel, which extends a good 500 meters from its Gihon Spring source to the Pool of Siloam inside the City of David. Several renditions of “Wade in the Water” were sung as we trudged single-file in knee-deep water. Of course, there is importance to this tunnel, which was rapidly built when Hezekiah rebelled against the Assyrian Empire (which went badly, unsuprisingly). There’s a story about one of the early explorers of the tunnel, Charles Warren, who was crawling through the tunnel back when it was heavily silted, and the water level rose to the point where he was twisting his neck to keep his head above the water. Fortunately, we didn’t have such difficulties!

Another highlight was the Jordan River, where five of our group were baptized by Linford in its muddy waters. Just behind us were Israeli soldiers, and just on the other side of the bank with Jordanian soldiers looking on, others were baptizing in the same spirit. Here, too, we read about the Israelites fording the Jordan before taking the city of Jericho during Joshua’s conquest.

Today, we took our first exam, and then had the afternoon off, a rare chance to sit back and relax. Without weekend breaks and only a few hours in the evening after 10 hour days in the field, it was rejuvenating to throw Frisbee in the garden and do some laundry before heading out for another week in the field. Tomorrow we head to Ashkelon to swim in the Med, Monday we swim in the Dead Sea, and the rest of the week we head north to the Galilee where we sleep in bungalows overlooking the Sea of Galilee. What a week to look forward to!

-Charlie Good

5 February 2016

I bought a purple and gold scarf in a market in Luxor on the banks of the Nile. He started at 220 Egyptian Pounds, but by lying about how much money I had and threatening to leave, I got him down to 70 pounds, which is ten dollars. The scarf is royal and majestic, and I was very pleased with my haggling and purchase. I intended the scarf to be a present for my mother, but figured I’d wear it around myself a bit. I’m starting to bond with it now, though, and I’m not sure that I’ll ultimately want to give it up.

Today we crossed into the Israeli-occupied West Bank. I put the scarf on that morning in Jordan, not really thinking about it, but when we got close to the border some mentioned to me that maybe it’d be better to take it off. Anti-Arab sentiment runs pretty high among Israeli border security officers, and Arab-looking scarves and kaffiyehs on people trying to cross the border isn’t a great idea. I thought about taking it off, but it was such a small thing, and I left it on.

After I stepped through the metal detector, the man I had just handed my passport to asked me to take off my scarf and jacket. He asked to see the label on the scarf, and then told me to go sit in an area off to the right. I asked for my passport back, but he kept it. After a minute or two I was moved from the waiting area into a little room all by myself, where a man soon appeared to question me about EMU and our trip. He grilled me for a while, and then asked about the scarf. I told him it was a souvenir from Egypt, and then added, “It’s a gift for my mother.” Appeased, but not happy about it, they told me to retrieve my backpack, gave me my passport, and directed me towards the next line.

All in all I was delayed perhaps twenty minutes. It really wasn’t a big deal at all. But psychologically… I don’t know, it sort of was. I was detained by border security. I felt small. Even with all my power and privilege, I had no control over that situation. I knew I was completely in the right, had nothing to hide, had all the proper documentation, but it was still scary. Even with literally everything going for me and only one possible outcome, I was still stressed out and even afraid.

Today I got the tiniest possible taste, on the smallest possible scale, of what it must be like to be a refugee or immigrant. I can’t imagine being detained overnight or being stuck in a line for days because of a missing piece of paperwork or some system not checking out. And yet there are untold millions who live this hell every day – stuck at or behind borders, unable to travel freely to see their families, unable to leave their refugee camp, stuck in endless lines and starving.

We learned at the MCC office that Jordan has absorbed 1.5 million refugees from Syria. This influx raised their population by almost 20%. In all this 1.5 million, there was not one recorded instance of an ISIS fighter sneaking in as a refugee to cause trouble. The United States is squabbling over the entrance of only 10,000 refugees, with vastly more resources and personnel at our disposal for both vetting and resettlement.

The horrible truth of the above paragraph is enough to make me so angry I can’t see straight. The United States’ grand destiny was supposed to be a home for the tired, huddled masses – a beacon for those who are lost. Imagine how wonderful it would have been if we had led the charge in resettling those fleeing Syria and enfranchised the Muslim world. Instead we have marginalized them and been ruled by fear and hate. I’m so disappointed at the sorry state of my country in response to this huge gulf of human suffering. The cries of conservative leaders to ban Muslims from entering the country and blaming all sorts of things on the refugees is an abject absurdity. If Jordan can play nice, so can we.

Of course, Syria isn’t the only place generating refugees. Tonight I will fall asleep in the West Bank, an area containing many Palestinians who have been forced off their ancestral land and into camps. We have arrived at the central chapter to our trip. The Israeli-Palestinian conflict touches many threads; economics, security, foreign policy, religion. I felt today a sharp turn in the kinds of things we will be seeing and talking about. The last two weeks have been steeped in the Old Testament – now we’re going to start talking about things that are happening now.

I have no idea what it must be to be disenfranchised. What hardship have I ever endured? I’m so grateful for the chance to come see the other side, where movement is restricted, where rights aren’t recognized, where an entire ethnicity and religion is demonized, where you can be detained just because of a scarf.

I think I’ll keep it on, though. My host sister said it looks pretty.

Welcome to [the West Bank]! I have already found reason to hope here.

-Eli Wenger

31 January 2016

My curiosity about the Sinai began when Linford announced we would be hiking and camping with a tribal group of people called the Bedouins. My interest, in the Sinai, turned to excitement when David Landis, a guest speaker during orientation, described the Sinai in two powerful words: rugged beauty. The Sinai is very different from any sort of wilderness in the United States. In the valleys the elevation is roughly 5,000 feet. It’s a place filled with rocks, mountains, rocks, a few trees or shrubs, and mountains. I have yet to encounter a place like the Sinai. It is dry like the Southwest of the United States. Its elevation is like the Rockies. It’s secluded as Minnesota. Put that all together and you are left with a place of beauty, unforgiving weather conditions, and peace.

Now that I have painted a picture of the Sinai I want to explain the highlights of the Sinai. We began our time by visiting St. Catherine’s monastery. This monastery is the oldest monastery ever. Its history began in the third century AD. One of its most famous visitors is Muhammad Ali. In the afternoon, after visiting St. Catherine’s Monastery, we climbed Mount Sinai. Mount Sinai isn’t an easy climb. Its peak elevation is over 7,000 feet. The climb was made more difficult by cold winds, 750 stairs, and a 2,000 foot climb in elevation. This was my highlight of our time spent in the Sinai. The view was breathtaking. Mount Sinai allows a person to see the grandeur of the Sinai. Every direction you turn all you see are mountains.

The most interesting part of the view was the church and mosque right beside each other on the peak of Mount Sinai. Since the story of Moses is a story told by Islam and Christianity, each religion wants to claim Mount Sinai as a holy place, which plays into the importance of land and religion in the Middle East. In the Middle East the people feel a connection to the land. Part of this connection to the land comes from the stories taking place so close to home. Which becomes difficult when three different religions share common stories that connect to the land. One of my favorite quotes, regarding the multiple conflicts in the Middle East, is: “These problems have roots. We need to understand the roots.”  Before we can judge the Middle East or even try to help we need to understand the conflict and the people.

-Peter Dutcher