Running Behind on Telling the Story

Am still not reflecting here on days 4, 5, and 6 of our dual narrative tour, but I want to think about yesterday--Sunday.  The day after the mass shooting at the Tree of Life synagogue in Pittsburgh in which eleven people were killed by a madman--including one holocaust survivor.  The same week a dozen or more individuals who have spoken out critically of Trump and his hate rhetoric received pipe bombs in the mail.  

Going to St George’s Episcopal Cathedral service yesterday morning was a balm for the troubled soul.  The priest welcomed the congregation at 8:00 and we prayed through the liturgy, listened to the timely readings from the Book of Job, the Letter of Paul to the Hebrews, and the Gospel of Mark, heard the words of a sermon spoken from the heart and gathered around to share bread broken and wine poured.  

I cannot describe the sensation of hearing the words of the Gospel.  "They came to Jericho . . ."  It was the story of the blind Bartimaeus who asked Jesus, in response to His question "What do you want me to do for you?"--"My teacher, make me see again."  So we struggle to see, and not only to see but to make sense of what we see and the often conflicting narratives that we hear.  

As we waited for more than 2 hours in a line in the Church of the Nativity we lived in the midst of the conflict of Christian sects whose turf wars about who can do what in the place of Jesus’ birth seemed such a paradox in the birthplace of the Prince of Peace.  From the cognitive dissonance of Bethlehem, we drove on the bus to Hebron--words fail to capture the depth and breadth of the conflict in this place whose name I think has its roots in where friends gather.  Dominated by settlers who were described as so zealous that they have become a law unto themselves.  In a place so holy where the patriarchs and matriarchs of the three religions  of the Abrahamic tradition are laid to rest, Hebron and the Tomb of the Patriarchs is probably more divisive than most places in this land.  Indicative of the division was the way our guides had to get off the bus or off the street and take circuitous routes to reconnect with our tour group.  

We saw the Main Street of Hebron mostly closed with storefronts welded shut and bolted.  Margie took us through the Jewish side of the Tomb and then walked with us down the Main Street to the check point.  She had to stay back while we crossed to meet Husam and walk back on the parallel street, the Palestinian side.  It was a sight and slice of life in the occupied city.  More to come.  Off to a political tour of Jerusalem--visiting the wall and the man responsible for the "implementation."

Just returned from the political tour of Jerusalem where we got off the bus at two different locations and drove through a number of neighborhoods to see in the city of Jerusalem the impact of what our speaker called "the fence" --except for the urban areas where it was essential to construct a 9 meter high barricade of concrete topped with barbed wire.  

But I want to go back to our walk through Hebron and one specific incident.  While walking through the Palestinian parallel main street, one of the first areas we encountered was the chicken market.  Caged chickens are everywhere.  It is not pleasant to walk through as you might imagine.  When we passed by the place where the birds are "processed" so each shopper can take home the evening’s dinner to cook, Husam pointed out the de-feathering machine.  This was familiar to me from my days on the farm when each Friday in the summer we would butcher 50-100 organically raised chickens and deliver them to people in town.  My job was to take the pin feathers left after the birds had been whirled around in the de-feathering machine:  a tub that was an old agitator washing machine fitted with rubber finger-like projections that would remove the feathers and leave the birds pretty much naked.  Husam mentioned that they call this machine "ma’atah"--and it is the same name they give the similarly constructed turnstiles that are part of the check points that Palestinians must so often pass through--one in a series of steps that does to their souls what the "ma’atah" does to the chickens.  Shortly after that, most of us on the tour bus elected to get off the bus and walk through the check point at Hebron that thousands of Palestinians are required to do each day.  They line up at 4:00 in the morning in tunnels that are barely lighted and often wait for hours to "be processed."  Already heavy with the sadness of walking through the streets of Hebron, my heart ached.  I am in great awe of the lack of bitterness that accompanies a complete frankness in both Husam and Morgie whose guidance and wisdom have opened our eyes and ears, as well as our minds and hearts.





From Tel Aviv to Jaffa to S’derot to Jerusalem, Day 2 and 3

I cannot believe that we are already 5 days into this dual narrative pilgrimage to Israel/Palestine.  The days have been so full but the time has passed so quickly.  

After our orientation on Monday evening, we readied ourselves for an early morning check out and a long day of exploring Tel Aviv, the historic port town of Jaffa--learning of its strategic significance for centuries.  Its beautiful beachfront is guarded by Andromeda’s Rock, a breakwater that prevented direct landing access to the port.  We had a chance to walk through the market area, get some fresh squeezed juice to quench our thirst, and head to S’derot that borders the Gaza Strip.  We stood beneath the telecommunications and observation towers and watched the construction of another fortification wall across the field.  Construction dust created a smoke-like haze with its own sense of menace.  From there we drove a short distance to a secure indoor play area that is also a bomb shelter.  It called to mind the Good Times Park facility that my Minnesota grandchildren so enjoy on days too cold or rainy to play outside.  That it is not an option conditioned by weather in S’derot struck me as I looked at the play areas and toys surrounded by secure rooms with doors that can be sealed shut in the event of an attack.  We had the privilege of meeting with Regional Manager Amit and alums from Hands of Peace.  They told us some of their stories, responded to questions, and their courage and ability to articulate the impact of their HOP experience was inspiring.  We headed at last to our Jerusalem hotel with a stop for dinner first.  

Next morning was an early start as we boarded the bus and headed for the Temple Mount.  Blessed by ideal weather and not long lines to get in, we gathered to hear the stories of the place sacred to the three monotheistic religions.  Standing next to the Al Aqsa Mosque across the plaza from the Dome of the Rock we heard the history of the site and its significance.  Though the lines to get in were not too bad, the crowds in the city were crushing.  We walked all around the great golden domed blue mosaic mosque, saw the Mount of Olives across the way, observed the place on the great rock that is said to be where Abraham brought Isaac to be sacrificed, then walked to the other holy places--the Church of the Holy Sepulcher and the Western Wall where many of us placed prayer notes into cracks on the wall.  After dispersing for lunch in small groups, we met again to visit the market area and the surrounding neighborhoods.  While at the market, there was what first appeared to be a demonstration but turned out to be an announced appearance of the Prime Minister with one of the mayoral candidates.  Several in our group were close enough to brush by him and get a great close up picture.  

We returned for dinner at the hotel and then a short walk to hear from the invited speaker for the evening, Gil Hoffman, chief political corresponded from the Jerusalem Post.  He was an engaging speaker willing to interact to some extent with the audience.  A Northwestern grad and a Cubs fan earned him some points from some of us.   

After Hoffman’s presentation, we moved the chairs into a circle and entered into our first dialogue session.  We quickly learned how challenging this kind of session can be and were blessed to be guided by our facilitator, Raanan, who has worked with the Hands and knows what he is doing.  And thus ended the second full day of our time together.    

In TelAviv

Arrived at the Herod’s Hotel last evening after being awake for 24+ hours.  An interesting cab ride from the airport through downtown TelAviv to the shore of the Mediterranean.  I would not like to drive in TelAviv-- even having learned how to drive in Boston.  So many bikes,electric scooters, motorcycles that weave in and out of traffic.  After getting to my room overlooking the beach  buzzing well into the night with beach volleyball, paddle boards, swimmers, and pedestrians strolling the waterfront, I went down to the lobby and had a salad and a glass of wine and then turned in.  Had a great night’s sleep-- ready to have lunch with granddaughter Victoria and then dinner and travel orientation with our band of pilgrims this evening.  Tomorrow we tour TelAviv and visit S’derot on way to Jerusalem that will be headquarters for the next week.  

En route to Budapest

Testing out the new iPad and keyboard

Cruising on the Danube, July 2018

Testing out site for new blog

Reflections on the trip

"Only a broken heart is complete. Only a slanted ladder is straight."


There are so many stories, so many narrative perspectives crowding my consciousness. Both of our guides were great story-tellers. Yuval, our Israeli guide, also a journalist, had special gifts. An autodidact with comprehensive, encyclopedic knowledge of history, literature, music, religion--his fluency was accompanied by an ability to find and use poetry. He speaks and writes with equal facility in Hebrew and English and he also conducts tours in French.

Yuval told us stories of his family and especially memorable was the story of his grandfather who made his way as a 14 year old from Romania-- escaping as the rest of his family did not. He had with him a leather coat and a diamond ring. He arrived in Israel with only the leather coat and a share in a toothbrush with a traveling companion. He was put in a detention camp for a year and then spent the rest of his life in a trade. I wish i could remember all the details-- including Yuval's returning to Romania, finding the family home, wishing that it might be returned or at least not occupied, and having his wish realized as the house was never again used for living quarters.

He and several of his colleagues, including Asiz Abu Sarah write for an online magazine 972mag.com.

Yuval told us the story of the development of modern Hebrew thanks to the efforts of Ben-Yehuda who created new words using ancient Hebrew. The work of Ben-Yehuda insured that the language of the modern state of Israel was Hebrew, rather than the other possibilities considered, i.e. Yiddish or German. I hope I am rembering the essentials of Yuval's account. It was the conversation around the significance of the Dead Sea scrolls that initiated the telling of this story.

Although clearly an advocate for peace and an outspoken opponent of injustices perpetrated by the government that cause the Palestinians to suffer, Yuval was an articulate and passionate spokesman of the Israeli narrative. He spoke about Israel's history as a semi-nomadic and often persecuted people. His own family knew the horrors of the holocaust. He understood the deepest desire in the hearts of his people for a home, for the land long promised. He spoke feelingly about understanding the fear that is the roots of what appear as extraordinary, even oppressive measures to ensure security.

He acknowledged that he and many other Israelis are disturbed by the injustices of the occupation but rarely do they speak out against it or attempt to end it. Each creates or recreates the narrative that works and each shapes a reality for himself/ herself.

Husam and Asiz spoke from the Palestinian perspective. Asiz suggested that the Palestinians need a galvanizing text that will speak for them to the rest of the world-- something akin to Uncle Tom's Cabin accessible and available and impossible not to understand. The Palestinians as we heard from several people are not unified in their support of a single leader. They need to work to keep their profile shaped to be something other than it so often is. That was one explanation offered as to the motivation in part of Abbas' request to the UN. While that event happened before our trip, the UNESCO took place as we were in our last traveling days.

I am afraid that the consequences of withdrawal of American support as a result of the recognition afforded Palestine will cause more suffering to those who least deserve to suffer more.

I have said elsewhere how oppressive I found the restrictions on freedom of movement. Such restrictions make 10 minute transits into hour long trips. The looming wall and the 523 checkpoints are almost everywhere evident.

The impact of the restrictions includes the lack of opportunity to assemble in any kind of mass nonviolent protests. Someone told us that the IDF doesnt think too much of Gandhi and his nonviolent strategies to effect change. Thus,when people from Zilwan, aka the City of David, gather in the tent to protest the demolition orders for their homes in which they have lived 12 generations, they are dispersed and arrested. One of the residents who spoke to us explained that his two elder sons had been imprisoned for demonstrating in protest ( in two different prisons) and his youngest son who was 11 years old had been arrested 8 times.

Husam spoke of the distinction between structural violence-- a strategy exercised to systematically make rights into priviliges and personal violence-- exemplified in the young people who throw stones-- not aiming to hurt or even hit but rather to protest the oppression. (When the frustration escalates and there is no change or relief, the condition is ripe for desperation-- and this makes possible an individual's considering the last resort of such acts as suicide bombing.)

When someone throws 10,000 stones and never hits a single soldier, might this be considered a non- violence that confronts rather than avoids; a non- violence that expresses opposition to oppression and speaks/acts out against it.

On the Sea of Galilee

We boarded a "Jesus Boat" and set out on the Sea of Galilee where the apostles fished and Jesus walked. I initially had trouble getting the pictures to load, so I did not post this in sequence. I will select some of the representative photos and include them here without more text.

Contemplating Walls

The city of emotion, the city of rocks and stones, is also a city dominated by walls. The same is true of the entire landscape of the country. I was so moved by the western wall and so overwhelmed by the barrier wall. At both I prayed for many people and for peace.

Last day . . .

The plan to travel from Haifa to Safed/Tzfat as part of our last day was revised and instead we visited Tel Aviv and Caesarea. Tel Aviv is Yuval's beloved home town. The safest city of its size in Israel and maybe in the world. Bustling, politically active, culturally vibrant, ideally located on the Mediterranean coast.

We drove after that to Tel Aviv for tour of the city, final reflections, conversation with a Sufi holy man, our last supper together, and a last bus ride with our ace driver Ismail to Ben Gurion Airport. Our wonderful guides accompanied us into the waiting area where we would begin the multiple security screenings.

We all hugged Husam and Yuval and thanked them from our hearts for being our guides and becoming our friends.

Where Jesus Walked

Nazareth, the home town of Mary and Joseph, is today far from the image of the tiny village in the Gospel narratives. It is densely populated and is now home to two churches that mark the place of the annunciation-- the angel's visit to Mary. We stopped at Mary's well-- the place where women came to draw water and likely where Mary may have been first approached by the angel. Close by, the eastern rite Church of the Annunciation, claims to mark the place where Mary heard the angel's message. Pilgrims filled the place and one group broke into song while we were there.

We trekked through some narrow winding streets and one of the wonderful open market areas to the newer church of the annunciation. Built quite recently, the church is filled with works of art from countries around the world-- each depicting a concept of Mary reflective of and rooted in the culture of the country.

We drove without stopping through Cana, noting it was the site of the first miracle of Jesus and stopped at Magdala for lunch. Many of us had St Peter fish--before driving a short distance to the Sea of Galilee. There we boarded a "Jesus Boat" and sailed on the waters where the disciples fished and Jesus walked. We saw the site of the Sermon on the Mount where Jesus spoke the beatitudes.

While we drove along and sailed on the Sea of Galilee, we were acutely aware of the other side of that lake-- the Golan Heights, site of critical conflict in the recent history of Israel.

We drove back toward Haifa, stopping briefly at Capernaum with its old synagogue and church built over the home of St Peter. The statue of St Peter dominates the entrance to the site that is today home to a Franciscan community.

With daylight fading we arrived at the baptismal site on the Jordan River, Yardenhit. Pilgrims dressed in white gowns were immersed in the waters of the Jordan where John the Baptist baptized Jesus. I walked down the steps to the water and stepped in, dipping a bottle in to take some water. Friendly fish and large rodent like critters approached anyone willing to feed them.

After a stop in the very commercial and huge shop, we boarded the bus and made the long drive back to Haifa. After another excellent meal in a local restaurant, we engaged with Gaby, one of the founders of the Sulha Peace Project. He talked to us and told us stories--a great one about his meeting with the Dalai Lama--and got us all to sing peace songs with him. A great ending to another long but wonderful day.

The Sabbath Clock and the Prayer Rug

In my hotel room, there coexist a sabbath clock and a prayer rug--a very concrete and tangible reminder that coexistence is possible. Last night we had dinner at a restaurant that several years ago had been blown up by a suicide bomber--a woman headed to a hospital to do the deed. She got as far as the restaurant and blew up herself and others, including the daughter of the owners. They had been involved with Hands of Peace and were committed to the approach espoused to work toward peaceful resolution of the conflict. Their resolve was shaken by their loss and in their great grief, but the outpouring of love and support and compassion of the Hands alums and their families led them to the same perspective and commitment that Aziz shared with us in Jerusalem: hate and fear and violence and retaliation solve not a thing and only make a bad situation worse. So last night in a rebuilt restaurant close to the sea the Hands of Peace alums and their parents and our delegation which includes host families broke bread together and gathered in small groups after dinner to converse with each other and build or build on relationships.

It was such a hope-in-our-hearts filled evening--even as rocket fire increases from the Gaza into Siderot where we visited only days ago; when the Israel government is strengthening its nuclear capability and saber rattling at Iran; and when our own country cut off funding from UNESCO because Palestine was admitted to membership and is considering imposing sanctions on the Palestinian Authority--an action that would cause even more pain and suffering to people who have endured for so many years. I keep hearing in my mind the psalmist's words, "how long, O Lord, how long?"

Room with a view. . . and a balcony to make it better

This is a beautiful city and the photos attached are a view from my balcony overlooking the bay of the port of Haifa....abounding with cruise ships as the streets of this very hilly, San Francisco-like place abound with tour bus packed vehicles.

Haifa, Day One

I am sitting on the balcony of my room overlooking the Port of Haifa--a gorgeous bay at one end of the Mediterranean. From this vantage point I can see the mountains whose other side I can't see is Lebanon. I can hear the call to prayer. The day has been beautiful, warm, and sunny though the breeze picking up and the sun setting has made it a little chilly in the air.

Today we began our journey with a stop at the Bahai Temple. Both the Bab and the prophet who followed him are revered in this city. The gardens of the temple are exquisite and we spent about an hour walking through the gardens and visiting the shrine.

From there we went on to the Druze village near the top of Carmel where we heard from Druze man who was also an English teacher some of the history of Druze culture and religion. We also had what was likely the best meal (among many good ones) of this trip--at the home of a family. The women prepared all of the food from locally grown produce and locally developed menus. We sat around tables on their patio and watched the pita/flat bread dough shaped and put on the wood fired grill.

The hospitality of the family, and the woman who actually runs a catering business and is known to our Palestinian tour guide, Husam, was extraordinary.