Goodbye!
So, yesterday morning the time had come to leave the beautiful Holy Land and turn homewards. Apart from leaving with lots of impressions, much food for thought and not least many many things I had bought in the markets and from the craft cooperatives, I was also a bit apprehensive of my way out, through Ben Gurion Airport in Tel Aviv, having heard from many of their experiences there. Yes, security is important (to every country in this world….), but some of the questions and practises at Ben Gurion seem, at times, a bit over the top.
We set off in good time, as travellers are told to be in the airport three hours before their departure time. Smetimes, questioning takes up that amount of time, and if you miss your flight, the Israeli authorities will only pay for a replacement if you have been in the airport for more than three hours, otherwise it’s your responsibility. We got into the airport all right, after a quick scan of our European faces – while many cars are stopped on their way in, for a first questioning. So with a deep breath I went into my queue, wondering what I would experience. Before check in even, everyone queues to receive an individual code, and have their check-in luggage x-rayed. To get your code, one of the security staff comes to talk to you (previously, every traveller received a number between 1 and 6, but after complaints that this was used in a discriminating way – Israeli Jews would e.g. mostly get a 1 (low security risk), holiday makers in couples and families perhaps a 2 or 3, individual travellers from the West, especially young ones, a 5, and Palestinians mostly a 6 – the system was changed, and every traveller now gets a 10 digit code. Funnily enough, they still start always with a number between 1 and 6, and they correspond heavily to the previous system….). The girl talking to me asked for the purpose of my stay, where in Jerusalem I had worked and where I had stayed, whom I had met, what I did in my free time…. I did not get any questions as to where I had travelled to, or whether I had met any Palestinians, as many of my friends did. The questioning can be intense and go on for a while. For me, it was about 20 minutes or so, during which the girl kept running away 
with my passport. Then my suitcase was scanned, and I was told to go to another queue for inspection. There, my whole suitcase was emptied and checked, although there did not seem to be much of interest there, so that I could start packing again. At this point, the security staff can also decide to question you again – and to completely search all your belongings, strip-search you, and hold and question you intensely. Luckily for me, they did not check what books and leaflets I had in my suitcase, otherwise I might have got some more questions too. As it was, I was allowed to go on to check in, before going through another security check of my hand luggage (again, emptying out and checking everything in detail), and then to go for my Border Control check and into the airport lounge, waiting for departure.
Of course, every country, especially those that have experienced much violence, will be concerned about security. However, the level of this at Ben Gurion is very high, and can be intimidating and close to harassment. It has been described as discriminating, especially against those looking Arabic, or those with Arab origins or family connections, but also against younger individual travellers, who often come in support of Palestine. Advice is always to not lie, but not tell everything, as descriptions of travels in the West Bank, Palestinian friends, or simply any opinion in support of Palestine will lead to extensive questioning.
It frustrates me, because those of us who have travelled in the West Bank and met Palestinians, have done nothing wrong or illegal. We have just seen what happens there, we have heard about what people experience. Exactly what the questioning is meant to do – as it won’t take these experiences away from us – I don’t know. Carrying books and other resources in favour of Palestine can again be questioned and discussed, but in the end, they can’t be taken away from you. So, what the purpose of this whole operation is, I’m not clear on – apart from making exiting the country more difficult, especially for Palestinians themselves (who often miss their planes, whereas for internationals, mostly there will be an effort to make them catch theirs). It is just a bit ironic to make it more difficult to leave a country, than to enter it. It also is the last impression people carry with them from Israel, and I’m not sure if that is such good PR.
Nevertheless, I had a great summer, I’ve seen so many wonderful places, met wonderful people – in Palestine and Israel – have gathered so much to think about and ponder on, and enjoyed my time in Jerusalem, especially at St Andrews Scots Memorial Church and Guest House, immensely.
Thank you all for reading my blog and for your comments. It really has helped me to think about my experiences, and helped me to frame my thoughts by sharing them.
Now, I’m safely back home. But, as they say, perhaps – ‘next year in Jerusalem’? Inshallah.
In the Galilee
What a beautiful country this is! Despite being relatively small, the landscape is so varied: from big cities through the desert to huge plantations. The Galilee is a part of the country I have come to like very much – a very green and richly blossoming area, the 
beautiful lake and the high mountains of the Galilee itself and of the Golan surrounding it. There is a Church of Scotland church in Tiberias, as well as the Scots Hotel, run by the Church of Scotland as well, so I had plenty of reasons to keep returning there. Participating in a service at the shore of the Sea of Galilee, perhaps reading a story in the Gospels that takes place right there – what a privilege! (Also, the service, food and pool of the hotel are most excellent!)
There are of course many well known – or at least often mentioned – places situated there, as this 
was the presumed main area of Jesus’ ministry, so that the Gospels are rich in their descriptions of the area. And today, these places have become big touristic and pilgrimages sites: Tabgha, where the feeding of the 5,000 is assumed to have taken place, is the home to a Benedictine monastery, the church of which houses (below the altar, naturally) the particular stone on which Jesus should have laid the fish and the bread before serving them. Now, that’s perhaps a bit too much detail for me – or perhaps I’m just to cynical to trust that we could say with certainty just in which spot exactly things happened.
There’s Capernaum, or rather, there are two separate, if neighbouring sites of Capernaum. One shows ancient house foundations 
and remains from the old village that was there in Roman times. One of them, again, is supposed to have been Simon Peter’s house, and above it – although leaving the foundations free to bee seen – has been built a modern church. The adjacent site is the orthodox one, home to a beautiful garden and lovely small church, covered in icons. It used to provide a baptism site as well, but due to the decreasing level of the lake, the steps there now just lead onto gravel, some meters away from the water line.
The Church of St Peter’s Primacy houses not just the named small church, and several other outdoor worship places, but mainly 
surrounds a small gravelled beach, and there it is actually possible to imagine the disciples getting into their boats, to go out on the lake to fish. This place marks the spot where Jesus presumably appeared to the disciples after his resurrection, and told Peter to ‘feed his sheep’.
Nearby there’s also the Mount of the Beatitudes, i.e. the traditional venue of the Sermon on the Mount (although there are some possible alternatives, as with most of these places), and you can just imagine thousands of people sitting there on the grassy slopes, while listening to Jesus’ explanations. A Franciscan monastery is situated there today, caring for a beautiful church and gardens, and welcoming pilgrims.
From a nearby mountain, we went to oversee the whole valley, the lake and its surroundings, the little villages (one of which is Migdal, the ancient Magdala, home of Mary Magdalene). On the lakeside opposite Tiberias, the Golan Heights can be found. Previously part of Syria, they were 
occupied by Israel during the Six-Day-War in 1967. Many Israeli citizens have since moved there, and it is home to a few Kibbuzim too. Only few miles in, not only Mount Hermon can be seen (and despite the exceptional heat in the Galilee, the top is still covered by snow), but looking down into the valley, Southern Syria spreads out, behind a strip of No-Mans-Land. The green fields and peaceful landscape betray the chaos and destruction further north.
A few miles to the west, Israel meets with Lebanon; again, hardly a border line can be seen. On one of the mountain valleys lays a massive mountain fortress, Nimrod, built in the 13th century by the defenders against the Crusaders. At its foot, Banias is situated, and ancient temple to Pan, going back to Hellenistic times. However, the place which also houses beautiful clear springs and wells, coming down from Mount Hermon, is also assumed to be the ancient Caesarea Philippi.
Not far from there, hidden in the mountains, is Bar’am. This place welcomes visitors to see the remains of two ancient synagogues in its grounds, however neglecting to mention the deserted Christian village right behind them. even from one of the synagogues, you can see the small church, still maintained and used today. Behind it, down the hill slope, stood the village houses. Most of the foundations are still intact, as well as whole walls in some. The Christian – mainly Maronite, with few Melkite families – community who lived there was expelled by the Israeli army in 1948. An appeal to court gave them the right to return, however the army resisted the court order by stating the village, so close to 
the Lebanese border, was not safe, so the families had to move away and leave their homes behind. While we expected the place to be – well, deserted – we found lots of children running about, and plenty of tents pitched in the ground. Speaking to some of the group leaders, we learned that they are the descendants of those villagers, some having lived there as children themselves. Every summer, they hold a camp for ten days, bringing all the children of the village families together to Bar’am, to show them their heritage, and to meet together themselves, as they live scattered in many places now.
As many people in Refugee Camps, despite perhaps being the third or fourth generation to have lived there, will describe their home to be the place they were displaced from, this group told us they were from Bar’am. There are so many sad stories here. It might seem for us a shame to hang on to the past, to not be able to let go and move on, but there is a beautiful connection to the land (for Muslims, it is forbidden to sell their land, as it is the heritage of their ancestors, which makes the displacements and disconnections from the land just the harder), and to the tradition of their people. A history of the people, indeed.
A price too high?
We’ve had another opportunity to meet with the Israeli Antiquities Authority, and seeing some of the artefacts stored and being 
prepared for their exhibition is a true privilege. We were continuing our discussions about the possibility to exhibit some artefacts at St Andrews Church and Guest House, which have been found in excavations in the grounds, which have shown remains of tombs from the Roman period and the Iron Age, and of a Byzantine church.
It was fascinating to see some of them up close, knowing that some of these little oil lamps and jugs are 3,000 years old. Also, the mosaic laboratory was amazing – mountains on mountains of shelves filled with big slates, carrying beautiful and artfully reconstructed mosaics. We were explained how the conservation work is done, and saw for ourselves just how detailed and time-intense it is. I was struck by the
detail and colour of some of the artefacts – so amazing that people such a long time ago would have had the knowledge and technique to produce something so beautiful, and lasting.
Seeing the labyrinths of shelves filled with artefacts, as well as a few weeks ago the objects 
displayed in the Israel Museum, is quite enlightening to the sheer number of artefacts that are there. There are always a number of excavations ongoing in the country, and I’ve met a surprising number of people here who come to spend their holiday volunteering at archeological digs.
Of course, this can illustrate the rich history of this country. However, in the way things are 
displayed, and also in looking at which findings get published afterwards, it is perceptible that certain eras of the country’s history, namely the Muslim period, are not given a great deal of attention, if any. Politics are certainly involved in archeology, in the way that is chosen to tell a story, or history.
As I have been writing about in the past weeks, I have also met people who on a very personal level have 
been suffering through excavations – those whose villages were moved, to allow for searchings, and those who are strongly encouraged to move away from the family home, to permit – questionable – historical settings to be restored. Of course, history and enquiry into the past are important and allow for a lot of learning – but what price are we ready to pay, and what price are we asking others to pay for it?
Al Shurooq
Another Sunday morning service at St Andrews, Jerusalem. The congregation is very small at the moment – the small regular group is even smaller than usual, due to many of them visiting their families abroad, and there are few visitors, as these very hot summer months here are not a high tourist season. Nevertheless, although there were only few people, we had a beautiful service, thinking about the feeding of the 5,000 – quite topical for us, too, as some of us were visiting Tabgha, the presumed place where this event happened, just last week (and we didn’t chose the reading for that reason; it was actually the lectionary one for this Sunday). Being a small group also means that there is an opportunity to meet everyone over coffee and tea after the service, which is always enjoyable.
One of our regular congregation members, as well as an Elder of St Andrews, is Helen, the founder of the Al Shurooq School for the Blind in Bethlehem. Due to the timing of my placement, I was only able to visit the school during the holidays, only meeting very few children who hadn’t left for their holidays yet. The school welcomes and teaches children from nursery age up to older teenagers with visual impairments from around Bethlehem, 
but also from further afar. Besides the school rooms, the new building (well, as of 2008), provides a kitchen and dining room, and residential rooms, as the children board there during term time. A big play area in the basement, and outside the building provide space for games and relaxation.
The rooms are decorated and furnished in bright, joyful colours, and look very 
welcoming. There are playrooms, class rooms, a computer suite and a library and also a room furnished with bed, kitchen cupboards and a shower, where the pupils can learn in a practical way how to deal on their own with everyday situations, like cooking, making a bed and cleaning, to prepare them for as independent a life as possible (one thing I’ve noticed here is that very few visually impaired and blind people use walking sticks or 
guide dogs, more relying on assistance by others and on themselves). There is also a massive Braille printer, so the school can print many of its resources itself, and indeed provides printing services to much of the southern West Bank. Many of the rooms have been furnished with the support of Scottish congregations, named on plaques next to the doors. It was really great to see just how many Scottish communities have shown support to the school.
The school also provides some holiday entertainment: earlier this summer, they took a group of children on a holiday camp in Haifa and in the Galilee – and at least the photos looked like everyone was enjoying themselves enormously!
Sadly, I won’t be able to see the school while it’s in full run – but I’m glad to have had a 
chance to see it, learn about its work, and to meet and get to know Helen, who is an amazing and very inspiring woman. (Unfortunately, due to illness, she wasn’t able to attend this year’s General Assembly of the Church of Scotland, but hopefully she’ll have another chance so we can show her Edinburgh as well!)
A bit of poetry
Moriel Rothman, affiliated with Rabbis for Human Rights, was one of our guides during the conference. He started amazing us by 
directly launching into one of his poems – and the performance is definitely worthwhile. For 
more info about him, please see his blog. The village of Susiya he talks about here, where people after previous displacements now mainly live in tents, is still under threat of complete demolition, despite heavy international campaigning. (I told about our visit there here.)
While in Bethlehem, we also looked at a new interpretation of an old song, written by Deborah Maccoby for Just Peace UK, a mostly Jewish group, in 2002, which I thought might be interesting for some of you, too:
O Come all ye faithful
Those who care for justice,
O look ye, o look ye at Bethlehem.
Come and behold it,
under occupation.
O come let’s not ignore it,
o come let’s not ignore it,
o come let’s not ignore it –
tell the world.
Sing all ye people,
sing in indignation,
be with the citizens of Bethlehem.
Sing out for justice,
freedom from oppression.
O come let’s not ignore it,
o come let’s not ignore it,
o come let’s not ignore it –
tell the world.
And to finish, a beautiful prayer we used during the service last Sunday at St Andrews Church in Tiberias – as even with all the campaigning, all the witnessing and sharing the stories, sometimes we can only pray for an end to injustice, violence and oppression; for peace, peace for all.
O God, make us children of quietness and heirs of peace.
Let the design of your great love
shine on the waste of our wraths and sorrows
and give lasting peace to your church,
peace among nations,
peace in our homes
and peace within our hearts.
Amen
What a curious country
One of the things that keeps fascinating me here are the contrasts, sometimes I seem to move between different worlds in instants. Perhaps these contrasts are present everywhere, just in our own environment we might not notice them so much? In any case, here are a few examples.
A few weeks ago, when I wanted to enter a shopping centre, I was prevented from walking through the entrance by a soldier, who asked me to step through a metal detector. Since looking out for them, I’ve seen them at the majority of shopping centres and malls, and it stills seems strange to me that they should be necessary. And what a difference to the souks, the street markets in East Jerusalem and many towns in the West Bank, where merchants sell their goods from open shops, street stalls or straight from the ground (especially fruit and veg stalls often are spread out on the ground).
It is still a bit shocking for me to see how fields, parks and even playing fields are sprayed with water in the summer heat, while many of the Palestinian areas have hardly enough drinking water, not to mention water provision in sinks etc. The towns and cities are in many places very much like Western ones, very much first world towns, whereas some of the villages live in much poorer conditions. There also are Bedouin villages, which, to a certain degree following traditional lifestyle choices, are completely cut off from the comforts we are used to. Lots of contrasts, very closely together.
Another funny observation I made a few days ago is the way some of the fruits are harvested 
here: many palm trees now, coming close to harvest time, sport plenty of bags at their crowns, around the growing fruit, so that they can be collected more easily.
Less funny, but still a bit unusual encounters I made over the past week were these: on Saturday afternoon, leaving St Andrews Church, I waited at my usual bus stop for the bus. Close by, a police car was parked; the two officers stopping the occasional car. After a few minutes, one of them ushered me away. On asking if she meant me, and what she was trying to say, she told me there would not be any buses anymore, as it was the Sabbath. True, Israeli buses don’t operate on the Sabbath, but inside Jerusalem I usually travel on Palestinian ones, which would not be affected by the Sabbath. So I suggested I would wait a bit longer, but she asked whether I knew what the Sabbath was, and told me again there would not be any more buses. I insisted to wait, and she left me with a shrug, and of course a few minutes later my bus arrived. Just interesting to see that either the Palestinian buses are not acknowledged at all, or that it seems inconceivable that internationals would want to travel on them.
When two colleagues and I travelled up to the Galilee last week, to our church in Tiberias, we were stopped at a checkpoint on the 
highway. All three of us have different nationalities, and therefore different passports. In the past, I had once been questioned there, but could carry on without problems, the other time I had been on a travel coach with a group of internationals, and again, as tourist group, we were let through without much ado. This time however, we all had to leave the car, and take out all items of luggage. We were questioned as to our relationship to each other, where we came from and where we were going. Then we all had to go through a security check, have our bags x-rayed, while the car was being searched by the officers with the help of a search dog. As they didn’t find anything suspicious, we were allowed to carry on with our journey. As I’d noticed on similar occasions previously, the officers were very friendly: “How are you today? Enjoy your day!’, seemingly oblivious that these experiences are unsettling and frightening, not to mention inconvenient. I know they are only doing their jobs; I just wonder about the criteria of stopping and searching travellers (btw, on the journey back, they didn’t even want to see our passports).
To finish, one more curiosity I encountered lately: The Inn of the Good Samaritan, between 
Jericho and Jerusalem. Now the story of the Good Samaritan was a parable Jesus told, not an event that is assumed to have actually taken place, and yet there is a venue for it. Nevertheless, the Inn is supposed to show what the inn in Jesus’ story might have been like. Today, it houses a museum, showing artefacts and mosaics from early churches and synagogues, very worthwhile seeing (and I got myself a whole load of Greek homework, at least if I want to work out what the inscriptions in the mosaics say!).
Good Samaritan Inn
Water!
As part of my travels through the country, I had the great opportunity to also visit the Jordan river, and the Dead Sea.
At the Jordan river, we visited what is assumed to have been the site where Jesus was baptised by John the Baptist, at Al-Maghtas (Immersion or Baptism in Arabic), near Jericho. A couple of tourist shops frame the wooden stairs leading down to the river. The the opposite bank of the river is already Jordan, although not much besides trees and occasional glimpses of church roofs can be 
seen. The Israeli side of the river is guarded by some soldiers, who watched our visit without much interest, and could even be moved to take some photos for us (even though the guns where somewhat in the way when crouching down to get the best picture). While in other places the river’s waters have decreased, due to leading some water through a canal to the Negev dessert, here it was what I’d call a proper river at least. Wooden banisters and steps make it easier to step into the water. As many baptisms 
are celebrated here, there are also showers provided. We however settled for ‘just’ paddling in the green water, while nevertheless sharing a worship service there, in which we were invited to renew our baptismal promises – perhaps a good reminder of what 
some of us have had promised on our behalf, as little children, and perhaps a reminder that will stay with us, as it took place in such a special place.
The area surrounding the river, the Jordan valley, is mostly desert – and very beautiful. There are a 
number of churches as well by the site, although most are not inaccessible, as the areas around them have been laid with mines, which was a bit of a wake-up call in the otherwise so peaceful place.
We continued out journey, soon to spot the shore of the Dead Seas glistening in the sun – very timely too, as by that time, the 
temperature had already risen to the high thirties, despite it still being morning. Despite the otherwise strict dress code, beaches open to tourists are very liberal. Having put our belongings under a parasol, we went down the 
hill (which apparently, not so very long ago, was still covered by the Sea as well, but its level is constantly sinking) to the shore. The last few meters we attempted to walk barefoot, which we soon had to give up – even just the wooden steps leading into the water were so extremely hot that walking without shoes proved very painful indeed. And the Sea itself was still 
a surprise to me, even though of course I knew about the high salt level and had seen pictures of people floating in it – leaning back and finding myself actually floating still was a bit miraculous – and really good fun (up until the point when I managed to get some of the water into my eyes – very very painful). The ground was very muddy, and we soon started covering arms, backs and legs, and even our faces with it, as it is renowned for its skin care facilities. I think my five-year-old self might have been jealous of all the fun of playing in the mud, even covering ourselves with it, and no one to tell us off!
A really lovely, wonder-full day.
The birdie song?
That was one of the less likely encounters we experienced during our two day stay in Taybeh, the only Christian village in the West 
Bank (of course, there are Christian living elsewhere too, but in this village, there are only three churches, no mosques or synagogues). About half an hour away from Ramallah, it lies in the midst of a beautiful hilly landscape, with very wide views (apart from where they are blocked by the building of yet another illegal Settlement). The village of Taybeh is another biblical place, under its ancient name of Ephron or Ephraim, mentioned in the book of Joshua and as the place Jesus and his disciples retired to after the resurrection of Lazarus. The community of 1,200 inhabitants belongs to the most part to one of the three church groups present in the village – the Roman Catholics, the Greek Orthodox and the Greek Catholics (ie the Melkites). These three churches provide some of the education in the village, and nurture a friendly relationship with each other – going so far that, for a number of years now, they all celebrate Christmas and Easter together, despite difficulties to the dates, as they follow the Gregorian and the Julian calendars respectively.
One of the services provided by the church communities are holiday clubs, and while waiting to 
meet one of the priests, we stumbled right into the morning session of one – being readily included in the wake up programme, consisting mainly of songs and dances, including the Birdie Song and Macarena – and believe me, I hadn’t expected to dance either with a mix of primary kids and international conference delegates, in the middle of the West Bank….
On recovering from that exercise, we received a tour of the ‘House of Parables‘ – a building that seems to have come out of time 
travelling, displaying what a family house might have looked like in Jesus’ times, illustrating many of the well-known parables, as well as customs of the time – quite illuminating! The village also 
features the ruins of what must have been a very beautiful Byzantine church, St George’s Church, dating back to the fourth century. It still is used by processions at Christmas and Easter, and by individual worshippers, and is said to be a place of divine miracle healings. There also are remnants of a twelfth century Crusader castle – the village clearly has quite an exciting history! One other 
sight some of us found quite exciting is the Taybeh Brewery – the only beer brewery in the whole of Palestine (not so curious considering the majority of inhabitants in the area, if not the village, are Muslims, who do not drink alcohol). They even hold their own annual Oktoberfest!
This village, as explained above, is an exception. Throughout Israel and Palestine, (mostly Arab) Christians 
make up only about 2% of the population. Some of these have their (at least geographical) beginnings in the original church. The biggest denominations are the Greek Orthodox, Roman Catholic, Melkite and Armenian churches, although there are more Protestant churches present now as well, mostly however through international partnership work.
One stream of theology I have looked into a bit more closely lately is Palestinian Liberation Theology. This did not emerge as a response to the Latin American Liberation Theology; it was one answer to the experiences of local Christians here, and only on reflection did parallels to the Latin American stream become apparent. In some of the lectures and stories I’ve heard, the despair at the experiences was evident. With everything that happened, 
it seemed to many that God had forsaken them. The Christian world rejoiced at the establishment of the Jewish state, but what about the Palestinians? Was this God’s plan? Had the Palestinians been left by God?
Was this God’s will being done? Previously to 1948, many had seen ancient Israel as spiritual ancestors, the people of God, to whom through inheritance the Christians counted themselves, but now, modern Israel appeared as oppressor. Many people left the churches, who did not provide answers to the questions and doubts, as they were too occupied with providing for the physical needs of the many Refugees. Naim Ateek, Sabeel’s founder, wanted to reestablish his faith that the Bible held good news for all, and that something good can still emerge from oppression (eg in Latin America’s case, the priests, those alined with power, started to work for the poor, reminding the church of the Gospel messages of a bias for the poor, the oppressed). Liberation Theology could provide one answer to the Palestinian Christians’ struggle, while the emphasis always remained on its biblical foundation, reading the Bible through the new perspectives the Gospels offer. All of the 
speakers we heard also embraced strongly the need to resist violence – expressing the message that the churches’ struggle for justice must remain non-violent. Of course, the topic is heavily intertwined with politics – and I will leave that detailed debate to others better equipped for it than I. We also heard from Jean Zaru, the Presiding Clerk of the Religious Society of Friends here, one of few female religious leaders here. She applied 
the context of Liberation Theology to the women’s situation here, which culturally is very different from that in the West. As a Christian, she again reaffirmed the message that we all are made in God’s image, and that therefore we all, in this equality, have the same responsibility to work for transformation, and for peace – seeing God’s image in every other person, even or perhaps more so in those who we might consider to be on ‘the other side’. Nevertheless, she pointed out that in local Christian families the same culture as elsewhere in the country prevails. While Christian women here are not involved in any decision making processes, it is them who bring life to the church, who organise the social church life and and who ensure the Christian upbringing of the children. Different cultures….
Hebron, Abraham’s city
So, I’m back in Jerusalem now; the Sabeel Conference ended yesterday after twelve eventful and thought-provoking days, and I might continue reflecting on some of the things I’ve seen and experienced as part of it.
Part of the programme was a visit to Hebron, one of four holy cities in Judaism. It is considered the second holiest, after Jerusalem, as burial place of the biblical Patriarchs and Matriarchs – Abraham, Sarah, Isaac and Rebecca, Jacob and so on (the only 
P/Matriarchal tombs not there are Rachel’s (in Bethlehem) and Joseph’s (near Nablus)). This, of course, explains why the Jewish community is keen to keep a hold on the town, despite many of the inhabitant families being Palestinians. There are liberal Jewish groups, such as Chayei Sarah (named after the story the claim to Hebron is based on), are looking at the ancient Torah texts, and offer alternatives to the traditional interpretations, much like Liberation Theology does.
Until 1929, Hebron saw a mainly peaceful coexistance of Jews and Muslims. When riots started in Jerusalem the Hebron Jews rejected the guards offered for their protection, trusting their community. Nevertheless, a massacre took place, in which many Jews 
were killed – many however were protected by their Muslim neighbours, who risked their own lives in doing so. In 1948, Hebron fell in the Jordanian territory, and the majority of the Jews who still lived in the city moved into Israeli territory. In 1967, against disapproval by the Israeli government and army, many Jews returned to Hebron (initially for a Passover celebration in a hotel, but refusing to leave afterwards). In 1994, during the Jewish festival of Purim – incidentally also during
the Muslim Ramadan – an American-Israeli physician entered the Patriarch’s Tomb, the Ibrahimi Mosque, on a Friday morning during prayer time, when many Muslims were gathered in the Mosque. As the Muslims there were praying, kneeling, with their heads on the floor, he opened fire, killing 29 and injuring many 
more, before being overcome and killed himself. Subsequently, the Tomb was divided, with the Mosque on one side, and a Jewish presence on the other. The Jewish community also has been attacked by Palestinian militants, especially during the Intifadas; killing soldiers, civilians, and even a baby.
We knew that the town had subsequently been divided in two parts, respectively under Palestinian and Israeli control, however also disowning and claiming Palestinian agricultural land, which now is used by Settlers. What came as a surprise to me though, was 
the heavy presence of armed soldiers. On our short walk down into the old city, hardly any people were to be seen in the streets. Nevertheless, numerous military and police trucks passed us, some slowing down next to us. At one building, which was pointed out to us as having been occupied by the Israeli military, we were under heavy observation from soldiers both on the roof and outside the 
building, just standing there with their weapons, watching us. A quite surreal, and scary experience. Houses along the streets displayed windows protected by metal nets – as was explained to us, to protect the inhabitants from stone throwing by Israeli Settlers in the area.
Moving on into the old city, we passed several one-man checkpoints; again, being cautiously watched. Some of the soldiers even 
appeared to be walking with us. On reaching what has been dubbed ‘Apartheid Street’, for its being blocked to Palestinians, one of our guides had to leave us, going another way to meet us again later, as he would not have been permitted to pass this street (he also was detained at a checkpoint, and 
his passport thoroughly checked). In the old city, we visited local merchants, and found ourselves surrounded by local children, desperate to sell little trinkets like ‘Palestine’ armbands etc to us. More than 1,800 shops and businesses were forced to close since the Hebron Agreement in 1997, many people had to move away to find new occupations, and to leave the strict curfews put upon them behind. Whole market streets in the souk area are empty and closed off by 
fences, telling the story of how much has been left behind. Again, many of the remaining merchants seemed very desperate to sell us their goods (much more so than eg in Jerusalem’s Old City), as trade has become very slow. The streets containing their shops are covered by metal nets, many of them displaying piles of rubbish caught in them. Many of the apartments in the houses above the shops have been taken over by Israeli settlers, from where reportedly rubbish, like bottles and even 
nappies, to eggs, liquids and even acid are thrown and poured down from the flats above. Organisations such as Christian Peacemaker Teams and the Ecumenical Accompaniers aim to offer a presence on the ground, witnessing and aiming to de-escalate potentially violent situations.
Local Palestinians have to pass through a total of 16 checkpoints in the town, many of which block 
and close off streets, to reach their homes and other parts of the town. We had been invited to join a few local families for lunch, and on our way there, we had to pass through one of these container checkpoints. All of our group were searched, but went through quite easily, with some of the soldiers even joking (‘have you got a bomb hidden in your bag?’); although one American-Palestinian member of our group was strip-searched. Once the whole group had passed through, we gathered to move on. However, very suddenly we were ordered back by a shout, ‘I want you to leave, all, now!’. On asking for reasons for this, we were only told the soldiers were following an order. More soldiers came running down the 
street, joining their colleagues, facing us. We continued to wait and ask; one of our guides, who is Jewish himself, trying to talk to the soldiers. However, the soldiers just closed the checkpoint to the locals, so that they could not pass through and were stopped, so we decided to go back to the other side, to not further inconvenience these local people.
Nevertheless, the families who had been waiting for us, on hearing what had happened, gathered up pots, plates and spoons, and brought them out through the checkpoint to us, so we eventually had a 
picnic on the side of a Hebron road, becoming a bit of an attraction to locals, especially children, some of whom joined us (and apparently a bit of a curiosity to the soldiers, who continued watching us). It was a great gesture of hospitality, and a creative way to stand up to the occupation that seemingly randomly can stop people from pursuing their plans, which we felt we also wanted to extend. With the agreement of the families who had prepared the food, some of us went back to the checkpoint, bringing bowls of food for the soldiers, who continued to watch us blankly, perhaps a bit surprised.
While the experience was terrifying – being faced by and shouted at by a number of teenage soldiers with large guns – I’m glad to have made it, seeing for myself what some of the people here have to face on a daily basis.
Facing the Wall
We took a closer look at the Wall in Bethlehem, close to the checkpoint between West Bank and Jerusalem. The section where we walked forms an enclosure for Rachel’s Tomb, bringing it on the 
Israeli side of the Wall. This also means that there are a couple of houses that now are surrounded by the Wall on three sides, feeling very closed in.
The messages graffitied on the Wall are very varied, but the majority express a wish and a hope for justice, for peace, as well as the frustration and despair over the current situation. Over the past weeks, I have come more and more to the 
conclusion that the Wall itself might not actually be the problem, in fact I think it could be helpful in defining the different areas. If it also adds a sense of security, just the better (although it is questionable if the building of the Wall was the reason for the stopping of 
the suicide bombs, seeing that only 40% of the Wall building was actually completed by that time). However, if such a device is built, then it should comply with international agreements, such as the Green Line border agreed on, rather than cutting further into Palestinian land than agreed, so that houses and even villages are caught in the zone between Green Line and Wall, separated from their land, families and work places. It also should not (seemingly randomly, but presumably in quite a planned way) draw its path around Settlements, giving them plenty of space to expand while again cutting of Palestinian land. The main problem are the harassments on the ground, as I’ve described in previous posts, the daily humiliations that will do nothing to bring the people closer together. And that is something I keep hearing again and again, from all parties: that the majority of the people living in this land want peace.
What prevents it appears to be, as much as I can dare make an attempt to judge the situation here, the fear on both sides. Fear of oppression, of violence, of anything resembling what the Jewish community experienced throughout the centuries, but mostly in 1930-45 Europe. There seems to be a fear, a non-understanding on both sides, and of course different interpretations of history, mainly of what happened in 1948. There also don’t seem to be very many places that bring people from both communities together, where they could meet just as fellow humans, rather than just those on the other side, the potential terrorists or oppressors. Much of what I see makes me feel hopeless, nearly resigned, and very sad – but often enough, there are glimpses of hope, of strength and of the will to make peace.
Rather than driving through, we walked through the checkpoint between Bethlehem and Jerusalem. We also had the opportunity to see the checkpoint activity during the rush hour in the morning, led by two of the EAs based in Bethlehem, whom I had met some weeks ago. Many of the workers from the West Bank, who have permits to work in Jerusalem, will be let through at different times – starting from 4am. Some of their permits are valid until 5pm, some for 24 hours. In practise, this means that some have to leave their villages at 2am in the morning to get to the checkpoint and queue up (there are also many food and drink stalls, to provide for the workers, and group taxis bringing them to the checkpoint – a whole night-time industry). One of the sellers told us his story, of how he lost his land due to the building of the Wall, his income, and that he therefore now sells coffee and tea at the checkpoint, to help his family, and to at least ‘smell his land’. A story we have heard often now, and there seem to be so many who have similar ones to tell.
The walk-through checkpoint is a big hall, which you enter through a turnstile, to show your 
passpaort for the first time. Then, through a second turnstile (only ever letting 3-4 people in at a time) and passing enquiry rooms, you get to a metal detector and a scanner for bags. From there, you exit through yet another turnstile, showing your passport again. I’m not sure about access for wheelchair users or parents with pushchairs; however we saw an old man who only could walk with support, who had major difficulties walking the whole distance, and getting through the obstacles on the way.
It can easily happen, that ID cards (Palestinians from the Occupied Territories have no passports, as Palestine is not a nation) and permits are questioned, so that people have to face further enquiries, or are turned back. the whole process is a big obstacle, making the daily journey to work so much more difficult. Those travelling on Palestinian buses have to leave them before the checkpoint, 
and walk through, while Israeli buses pass through without being controlled at all (driving through in the car, we usually just have to show our passports, as on our coach a few days ago, when two soldiers passed through the bus, just checking our passports, as at any other border too). My first-hand experience is quite limited, but I have heard difficult stories from Palestinians, as well as other internationals including the EAs. One of the other internationals in my guest house witnessed a couple of weeks ago how a family with four little girls wanted to pass through from Ramallah to Jerusalem. They were let through two by two, first two girls, then the mother with another girl. When the father came up with the fourth girl, the soldier told them that, as the girl was over six years of age, she needed her own permit. The father responded 
that the mother had the paperwork with her, but she 
was not permitted back to show it, and the father and girl were turned back. On driving through Qualandiya later, the checkpoint between Ramallah and Jerusalem, we were able to witness a medical transfer, where the patient on the bed was taken out of the ambulance, to be checked by a soldier before being able to pass through for specialist treatment, which is only available to those in the West Bank in East Jerusalem.
For me, it was quite difficult to walk along the Wall and through the checkpoint. I grew up in East Germany, behind a border we 
were not allowed to cross. We lived about 15 miles from the border to the West, and had relatives closer to the border. My grandma and I would be given permits to visit them, but my parents could never come with us, as they were in what was considered to be ‘the dangerous age’ ie in the age bracket of those most likely attempting to flee the country. While we never experienced such severe human rights abuses, there was spying and no freedom of speech, no freedom to travel, the need of clean records to get any permits (including the privilege of your children, or most likely only one child per family, to attend university), compulsory army service, and extreme border control through the army. I was only seven when the Berlin Wall fell, and for me, the changes were mostly connected with my school, greater diversity of food and sweets in the shops, and colour TV. However, experiencing the Wall here, gives me a bit of an idea of what my parents lived with for the first thirty years of their lives. As the Berlin Wall fell, and democracy emerged once again, I do hope that democracy, and justice and eventually peace for all, will emerge here one day as well.
Anikó in Jerusalem 