PAULA MEHMEL: Shoot the Rapids — Be A Voice Of Hope

On Monday, I read their names.

The names of some of the men, women and children who were among the 6 million Jews who were killed during the Holocaust.

As part of Yom Hashoah Holocaust Remembrance Day, Voices of Hope and the Mandelll Jewish Community Center in West Hartford, Conn., sponsor a Community Wide Reading of the Names.

A member of my parish alerted me to it, and so I signed up for a time slot and went there to read the some of the names of those who were murdered in places like Auschwitz, Bergen-Belsen and Dachau. I wore a clerical collar, both as an act of solidarity and contrition, since Lutheran clergy in Germany played a very mixed role in the rise and normalization of Hitler and the Third Reich.

Voices of Hope is an organization created by descendants of Holocaust survivors to collect, categorize and share the experiences of Holocaust survivors for the benefit of future generations. Its bold mission is to foster a culture of courage and social action against hate, bigotry, intolerance and indifference.

After learning over the weekend that almost a quarter of all millennials knew nothing about the Holocaust and 41 percent of all Americans (66 percent of millennials) had never heard of Auschwitz, the importance of reading these names became more apparent.

We are living in a country that is quickly forgetting the consequences of hatred driven marginalization of a specific race or creed. And now, more than ever, we need to remember what happened in Germany when good people looked the other way, ignoring the facts when their neighbors were isolated and then removed, objectifying them, rather than seeing them as individuals.

What happens when you read the names is that it becomes personal. No longer is the Holocaust 6 million nameless, faceless people. It is Chave Friedman, Jacov Freidlander and Mordichai Fuchs. Real people, with real stories, who bled and died in the ghettos of Warsaw or who were gassed in camps like Buchenwald.

What struck me, as I read name after name from the same family, is that entire generations were eliminated. Brothers, sisters, parents, grandparents and grandchildren. Genocide is a horrible thing. And seeing it in print and reading the names aloud, made it real.

We live in a world where we see both the horrors of war and genocide up close, as we see victims in living color, and yet we become immune to it. Only the rare photo, like the blood-stained face of the Syrian boy Omran Daqneesh, whose trauma after a bombing captured the price of that horrific war, breaks through and makes these people real. Otherwise, it simply becomes the story of a war in Syria or Afghanistan — not the story of lives disrupted or refugees fleeing in terror.

I think of the victims of genocide and mass slaughter — the bodies of babies thrown into a pit in Cambodia, the Native Americans perishing after a smallpox- laden blanket wiped out entire communities, the mass graves in Bosnia — they are more than simply a number. Each statistic represents a flesh and blood person, whose story came to a horrible end for no reason other than hate that went unchecked.

And I think of the people I met in the refugee camps in Uganda who are fleeing a genocide in South Sudan, and the Palestinians, who are facing a slow and deliberate choking out of existence through the illegal seizure of lands and assaults on unarmed resisters who are helpless to do anything but scream as their way of life and identity is being robbed from them.

Their stories need to be told. Their names need to be said aloud — like the thousands killed in South Sudan in recent weeks or the 17 unarmed Palestinians who were shot in Gaza. When we hear their stories, we are able to understand more deeply the pain that drives them and the struggles that unite them.

When we lump people into a group by their nationality, or their religion, or their color, we take away their individuality. It is easier to hate a group than it is to focus on the person who is being targeted.

Voices of Hope gave me a chance to say the names of those who were killed nearly 80 years ago, killed because the majority did not stand up to say “no” in the face of bald hatred and vicious lies, scapegoating a people and tolerating the indefensible.

I read their names, knowing that those who don’t remember the past are condemned to repeat it. And understanding that a genocide does not begin in a day. Instead, it happens because good people look the other way for too long, until what once was seen as horrific becomes normalized and acceptable.

And today, I will continue to say the names of Stephon Clark, Philando Castile, Trayvon Martin, Tamir Rice, Freddie Gray and others because their lives, their stories matter, too.

We can’t look the other way or we become complicit. So Monday, I read the names from the past, committed myself to share the stories of those facing a genocide today and joined in a bold venture to continue to say these names aloud too, to help tell their stories.

As Edmund Burke once said, “The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.” So we need to do something. And it begins by saying their names.

PAULA MEHMEL: Shoot the Rapids — The Holy Land, Day 11

I am writing this blog with my headphones on and classical music ringing in my ears.

We are staying at a Youth Hostel on the Sea of Galilee, where a lot of families come, and near as I can tell, let their children run wild. Last night, there were shouts in the hallway echoing loudly in my room until midnight and they started up again early this morning. I suspect it is going to be another long night.

Different cultures, different standards. Part of the travel experience. Not all experiences are positive, but we learn from them, putting the pieces together.

Putting the pieces together could easily be the theme for today as we visited Zippori National Park.

Sepphoris was once the capital of Galilee, a place where throughout history there have been repeated rebellions. Whether it was the Jews rebelling against occupation in 55 B.C., rising up against Herod, or when the Crusaders had their last stand before being defeated by the Saladin and the Muslims, or when the Jews returned in 1948 during Ramadan and forced the Palestinians to leave, the history of this place, like all of Palestine and Israel and Judea, is one of rise, rebellion, and ouster … pieces torn apart and put together again.

During the last battle, in 1948, most of the people who had been living here for thousands of years were forced to seek refuge in Lebanon and Syria.

I learned something new today about what happened during the war. After the war in 1948, most of the Palestinians were forced to leave, but there was a brief time when they were told that they could come back and live here again.

Mosiac at Zippori National Park.
Mosiac at Zippori National Park.

Unfortunately, the announcement of that was often only posted in papers in Hebrew, with short notice, so most didn’t know and ultimately lost their house forever because of the law of absenteeism: If you aren’t in your home, it can be taken. That explained a lot.

But we weren’t focused on modern history today but rather ancient history as we looked at the amazing mosaics that were at this location. The intricacy of the design and the quality really was quite astounding.

Mona Lisa of Galilee.
Mona Lisa of Galilee.

Besides the mosaics, I took pleasure in a rather simple action. This city was the center of Galilee when Jesus grew up in the small town of Nazareth nearby, so there is no question he would have been here.

As we walked around, our guide pointed out a road whose stones were original. You could trace it back thousands of years, and you could see the groves in the stone from the wheels of chariots that went over it.

So I took off my shoes and walked down the smooth stones. I walked where Jesus walked. Literally.

From Zippori National Park, we headed to Nazareth. Prior to 1948, Nazareth was largely a Christian community, but in the aftermath of the war, it shifted to 70 percent Muslim and 30 percent Christian, as refugees came to here to rebuild their lives.

It has grown from the sleepy small town in the time of Jesus to a community of 75,000.

There we saw three different churches, dedicated to Gabriel, Mary and Joseph.

St. Gabriel Catholic Church.
St. Gabriel Catholic Church.

The first was St. Gabriel Catholic Church. A stream runs under the church, which is the place that it is said that Mary first received the angel Gabriel.

I have to admit, I was baffled as I heard this story. I kept running through Luke in my head, wondering if I missed something. I am happy to report that I did not (having read that text hundreds of times).

The spot where according to the Koran and Christian tradition it is said that Mary first received the angel Gabriel.
The spot where according to the Koran and Christian tradition it is said that Mary first received the angel Gabriel.

This story is attributed to both Catholic tradition and the Koran — so I did not sleep through something in seminary I should have been paying attention to … at least not with regards to Mary and a stream.

The second place we visited was my favorite of all of the major churches we have visited (there were a few smaller places, like where  Jesus wept over Jerusalem and the Shepherd’s Chapel that I really loved).

The Basilica of the Annunciation and the altar near where Mary is said to have encountered the angel Gabriel.
The Basilica of the Annunciation and the altar near where Mary is said to have encountered the angel Gabriel.

The Basilica of the Annunciation was completed in 1969, and one of the unique things about it is that there are incredible works of art from many nations that circle the outside and the inside of the Basilica. They each portray a depiction of the annunciation.

What I loved about it was how in many of them, Mary was seen as representative of the nation — so she was Asian in Japan’s Annunciation and Middle Eastern in the one from Iraq and South American in Peru’s.

I love that Jesus and Mary aren’t just viewed here through a certain lens, but rather all-encompassing — as the pieces come together to reveal a greater whole — a God bearer who represents all people and places.

Would that we could see God that way — and each other as images of God. So much of the history of hate might be able to transform.

Sculpture at the Basilica of the Annunciation.
Sculpture at the Basilica of the Annunciation.

There was a space in the Basilica —  a grotto — where they believe it is historically quite possible the spot where Mary was living when Gabriel visited her. It felt holy and sacred and reminded me of how human our story is. And how it relies on our being open to God coming into our presence in the present.

I think that openness to God being present — Emanuel, God with us, in the pieces of life is my greatest take away from today. Our lives are made up of different parts and our world is made up of different people.

That was drilled home this evening as our group bid farewell to our bus driver and guide. Both Muslim men. One an Israeli citizen, the other a resident of the West Bank. We saw both go through questions and indignities in their time with us.

Gracious men profiled by race and religion, they will not be coming to Jordan with us.

And later, I shared a drink and more conversation with Carol, my Israeli friend.

Each has a story. For them a true story. And as the stories are told the pieces come together to reveal the full picture, which is complicated, long and hard to comprehend.

But it is only with God and our openness to the peace that God brings that there will be any peace in this area.

Because God alone can put the pieces together to reveal beauty of a mosaic of people from every race and people living in harmony.

And it is that promise in which I hope.

PAULA MEHMEL: Shoot the Rapids — The Holy Land, Day 10

It’s loud at our lodging tonight as I write this. Children are running around, yelling joyfully, riding on scooters and playing with each other as parents mill about, sipping on wine.

Toto, we aren’t in Palestine anymore.

Tonight is our first evening in Israel, as we are staying in Galilee to see the places where Jesus grew up and where most of his ministry occurred, and the differences are profound. We can drink the water from tap, there isn’t the constant tension felt by armed soldiers everywhere, and it feels very much like a middle class culture.

It is easy to see why so many Israelis aren’t invested in what is happening in Palestine. Out of sight, out of mind. Living in completely different world.

We left the West Bank and headed north. Going through checkpoints is not a problem for us, as we passed through the wall. We have a yellow license plate on our bus. That means that we are able to drive anywhere we want — that we are able to be in Israeli territory.

Yesterday I heard that some women aren’t able to enter Jerusalem until they are 40 and men until they are 55 because they need a permit before that age to leave the West Bank. Hardly anyone is permitted to drive a car (100 permits for the whole of the West Bank can drive in Jerusalem.) Most will never travel north and see the beauty of Galilee.

Along the way, we passed by Haifa, a port city, which our guide, Tareq, told us was the best example of positive relationships between Jews, Muslims and Christians in Israel. The city is 70 percent Jewish, 30 percent Palestinian, and they get along. They speak each other’s language, the city has a nightlife, there is no conflict, and they live as a community.

I asked why this was the case. Tareq said it was because their relationship wasn’t about who was a Muslim and who was a Jew. If you take the focus on religion out of it, people get along. It felt good to see at least one beacon of hope here. The future of this land is focusing on the people, not isolating them by religion and ethnicity.

Prior to today, I was wondering about the “land of milk and honey” that Abraham was promised — Jerusalem has a desert on one side, and it really felt like one large place of rocks and hills.

But here in Galilee, it is lush and green. The farms are productive, and the beauty of the rolling hills and mountains makes it clear why people fought for this land and didn’t want to give it up as their home.

I also learned the milk was the olive trees and the honey was the figs.

Our first stop was  the Sea of Galilee. As we walked up to it, it was apparent the lake was much smaller than it used to be. It needs to rise 15 feet to get back to the size it once was — a product of the lack of rain caused by climate change. It’s shrinking has also increased the water shortage, since it can’t be drained to be used as a water source.

Once there, we boarded “The Jesus Boat.” It was a large wooden boat, reminiscent of the kind that Jesus and his disciples would have used. It was a still day on the Sea of Galilee, with no movement whatsoever.

I noticed there were cross winds, with the way the hills and mountains broke, so that surface waves could rise in both directions in a hurry. Surface waves swamp boats. The whole story of Jesus in the storm made a lot more sense.

The hourlong cruise was peaceful and serene — except when they played the “Star Spangled Banner” and hoisted an American flag on the boat  since we were all U.S. citizens. That I found a little weird, but given the rampant nationalism of Israel, it made sense that they promoted it with all of the tourists.

Once the U.S. flag was raised (I decided not to confuse them by asking for equal time for “O Canada”), the remainder of the cruise was reflective. We read the story of Jesus in the storm and we looked out at the calm waters.

As a water person who loves boats and has been caught in more than a few storms, I felt very connected to Jesus.

The Ancient Boat was found in 1986 and has been dated to between the First Century BCE and CE.
The Ancient Boat was found in 1986 and has been dated to between the First Century BCE and CE.

While at this same sight, we were able to see the Ancient Boat that was found in 1986, which is the oldest freshwater boat in the world.

The boat has been dated to between the First Century B.C.E> and C.E., which means that even though no one knows if this was a boat that Jesus used, he would have used one very much like it. Seeing it, like the Sea of Galilee, gave me a deeper appreciation for the Word, as I saw how low it was and how waves could easily fill it with water to sink it.

Our next stop was the Tabgha or Heptapegon, the site of the Church of the Multiplication, with its unique mosaic floors. This was the spot where Jesus multiplied the loaves and the fishes — a reminder of God’s power to work miracles if we first offer up what we have to give.

That, by the way, is the reason I am blogging so faithfully. To offer what I have to give in order to do what I can ameliorate a horrible situation.

Speaking of which, this church also fell victim to an arson attack in June 2015, from radical, anti-Christian Jews in Israel. It was a reminder that the violence isn’t just against Muslims. Christians face it, too, and the source is always extremist, regardless of the religion.

The Mensa Christus (The Table of Christ), the place where Jesus made a breakfast on the beach for the disciples after his Resurrection.
The Mensa Christus (The Table of Christ), the place where Jesus made a breakfast on the beach for the disciples after his Resurrection.

From there, we went to my favorite place associated with Jesus on the entire trip, the Primacy of Peter, also known as the Mensa Christus (The Table of Christ.)  This was the place where Jesus made a breakfast on the beach for the disciples after his Resurrection and where he told Peter to feed and tend his sheep.

It is also where they say that Jesus told the disciples to cast their nets out after a fruitless night fishing and when they did, they hauled in 153 fish — which was the exact number identified fish in the region at that time. A reminder that Jesus’ came to include everyone in his kingdom.

As luck would have it, we arrived between tour groups, so we had the beach essentially to ourselves. At first, a number of people went down. I took off my sandals and tried walking on water, Not surprisingly without success.

But then, all but one other person left, and for a quarter of an hour, I had a chance to be “in my zone,” by the water, praying, reflecting and letting tears flow at the power of a God who forgave an imperfect Peter on that beach, as he called him to serve Jesus with his whole life. For that same Jesus called a very imperfect Paula, too.

One of the amazing things about being there was visualizing the story in a new way. Though we don’t know for sure this was the site, if it was in the area, it was likely that the shoreline was rocky and not sand beach.

That means that when Peter leaped out of the boat after catching the fish and swam to Jesus, when he reached the shallow area he was on rocky ground, which is painful to run on. But Peter was focused on Jesus, not his pain, and that focus led him to his place by Jesus.

If I can keep my eyes on Jesus, then I, too, can traverse rocky paths to keep moving forward in mission, obstacles be damned.

From there we arrived at our lodging — an international youth hostel on the Sea of Galilee.

We had some down time before dinner, so I took a long walk on the shore. Going away to a lonely place to pray.

When I came back, I greeted a woman on the beach. She responded in Hebrew and when I told her I didn’t speak Hebrew, she responded in perfect English. Carol was a Chicago native.

We started to talk and in a short time, I was not only sitting in a chair next to her, I was also sharing her wine cup, as we split a bottle of very good red wine.

It was fascinating to talk to her. She came to Israel in the 1970s with a dream of being part of a new nation, and she stayed because it was a good fit.

Yet, she knew about the struggles and challenges. Carol was far left in her politics, supporting the political party that believed in Palestinian rights. She saw the wall for what it was — a source of oppression for the Palestinians  and the dangers posed by the settlers in Hebron. She recognized what extremist views did to distort the possibilities of peace in the country.

However, she also had a sense of helplessness. She hated what the settlers were doing in Hebron, but what could she do. She saw the inequities, felt  sorry for what people who lived in the West Bank had to experience and knew it was wrong. But she also believed in the vision of Israel as a homeland for the Jewish people.

When I called the residents Palestinians and not Arabs she did a double take, but to her credit, she reflected on that as well. She said, “I guess you’re right. They are Palestinians.” This was coming from a very liberal person who had lived in Israel for over 40 years. They do only hear one story.

One of the most fascinating things she told me was how the extremists were working to get their way by Judaizing the country and making it a religious state.

She said they have schools where they offer free education for the Sephardic Jews, largely from North Africa, who are poor.

They use the schools to indoctrinate the children to hate Palestinians. The children who follow Palestinians or Orthodox Christian priests in Old Jerusalem to spit on them and call them names are products of this indoctrination. We heard firsthand stories of this happening, and now I know why.

There is a passage in Proverbs that says, “Train up a child in the way you want them to go and when they are old they will not depart from it.” (Proverbs 22:6).

The extreme Orthodox Jews of Israel glommed onto that verse and are training up a generation to be filled with hate, seeking a final solution of a nation void of Palestinians.

Carol told me a friend of hers summed up what she felt. “This isn’t the country or the dream we envisioned when we came here in the 1970s. But what can we do but remain here and keep working on that dream.”

The more I learn, the more complex this situation is. But one thing is becoming clear. Extremism in all its form leads to more division and destruction. The only way forward for peace is to recognize a shared humanity.

There are religious extremists of all stripes here at the birthplace of three religions. Muslims, Christians, and Jews. And as long as people focus on tribe and what divides us, there won’t be peace.

It is only when we see our shared humanity that we are able to find a way forward in this incredibly divided world — here in Israel and back home in America, where the divide isn’t as deep or as long, but where the rift is ever expanding.

Wherever we are, whoever we are, we need to keep working on that dream of human rights for everyone in this world we share together.

PAULA MEHMEL: Shoot the Rapids — The Holy Land, Day 9

A story in four acts.

The first act involves the land and nature. We visited the Environmental Education Center, a ministry of the Lutheran Church, on the campus of the Talitha Kumi Lutheran School. Michael, the very knowledgeable and passionate ornithologist on staff, showed us around their wonderful center.

Michael, staff ornithologist at Environmental Education Center, a ministry of the Lutheran Church, on the campus of the Talitha Kumi Lutheran School.
Michael, staff ornithologist at Environmental Education Center, a ministry of the Lutheran Church, on the campus of the Talitha Kumi Lutheran School.

There we saw the botanical garden with only indigenous plants, tasted the sweet cocoa-like pod of the carob tree, smelled the type of thyme used in za’atar, the ubiquitous Palestinian mix of spices, learned about the medicinal value of the eucalyptus tree and enjoyed  a short a forest nature walk.

We learned of the challenges of “vagrant” birds that come into another bird’s nests, kill the babies and take the nest for themselves. Having visited Hebron the day before, the comparison was not lost on us.

He was most excited to show us their bird-banding station, where they catch, band and release birds to follow their migratory patterns. Over 500 million birds migrate from Europe to Africa and back each year via Israel/Palestine, as the land bridge between continents, the same reason it has been vital to humans throughout history.

He shared with us some of the challenges presented by Israel’s separation wall — it affects the migratory paths of animals and limits the ability to move freely to do research — impacting both the environment and its caretakers.

The highlight of this visit for me was the opportunity to release one of the birds they had banded — a tiny migratory bird called a red star that was placed on my hand before it flew off, uninhibited by walls and able to move freely.

The second act is a story of art and culture, when we visited yet another amazing ministry of the Lutheran Church, Dar Al-Kalima, a university of arts and culture.

Angie, of the Public Relations Department at Dar Al-Kalima University College of Arts and Culture in Bethlehem.
Angie, of the Public Relations Department at Dar Al-Kalima University College of Arts and Culture in Bethlehem.

Angie, who works in their PR department, shared with us how rare a university like this is, in a society where most parents want their children to be doctors or lawyers. Here people come to study art, dance, music and filmmaking.

She said these are vital exports, since so many people see Palestine through the false lens of terror, and they wish to be ambassadors of beauty and dignity. She was so happy that we had come to see them and hear their stories. Too often, Angie said, people come to just look at the stones on the ground, but the people are the living stones whose stories we need to hear.

Art at Dar Al-Kalima University College of Arts and Culture in Bethlehem.
Art at Dar Al-Kalima University College of Arts and Culture in Bethlehem.

The vision of Diyar (the whole consortium of ministries that Christmas Lutheran Church has given birth to) is to create room for hope, to reach the people of Palestine “from the womb to the tomb.” Their founder, Mitri Raheb, believes that people focus too much on politics when they think of Palestine and that they offer so much more. They emphasize the need for the arts and culture, which are like a breath for the soul to help make a person whole, to help develop the story of the real Palestine that has been pushed aside by the ravages of occupation.

The theme verse at this Lutheran University is John 10:10 — to have life and have it abundantly, so that people don’t just survive, that they thrive. Diyar is located in Bethlehem, and that is where the word became flesh, and they want people to see the image of God in each other — in the flesh around them — as a bridge to peace.

Angie said that they have lost so many human rights that they can’t count anymore, so they want to focus on the people and the gifts of the arts to bring joy back to life.

Vice President for Academic Affairs Dr. Nuha Khoury at Dar Al-Kalima University College of Arts and Culture in Bethlehem.
Vice President for Academic Affairs Dr. Nuha Khoury at Dar Al-Kalima University College of Arts and Culture in Bethlehem.

After getting a tour from Angie, we met with the Vice President for Academic Affairs Dr. Nuha Khoury, a gracious and beautiful woman who spoke eloquently and expressively. She said Dar All-Kalima is a beautiful space — which indeed it is — because they want to “attack the students with beauty.” There is so much ugliness outside and they wanted a respite here.

She told us that Dar Al-Kalima is committed to sharing the elegant grace of the Palestinian people, in a program that is unique in their country, by nourishing the talents of young people (and adults of every age as well), who can use a film or a painting or their music to go further than words ever could to capture the beauty of a people and their culture, to show the world who the Palestinian people really are. In a world where people know the bad and the ugly, they want to be the good.

The goal is to be a place that shows the hope of a people who experience beauty in their art and culture and who want to be known for that. It truly was a place full of abundant life.

Lutheran Church of Beit Sahour.
Lutheran Church of Beit Sahour.

The third act involves identity, as we visited with Pastor Ashraf Tannous of  the Lutheran Church of Beit Sahour.

He told us he wants to be seen first of all a human being, then an Arab Palestinian, a Semite, a Christian, a refugee and a Lutheran pastor.

Pastor Ashraf Tannous of  the Lutheran Church of Beit Sahour.
Pastor Ashraf Tannous of  the Lutheran Church of Beit Sahour.

First and foremost, he was created in the image of God. This identity is most important.

Then he is an Arab Palestinian. That is his nationality. Arabs are connected by language — Arabic — not religion. You can be a Christian, a Muslim or a Jewish Arab — and people need to know that. And Palestinian is his nationality.

He is also a Semite because he speaks a Semitic language — which means a language that originated in the Middle East, such as Hebrew, Aramaic and Arabic. He said Palestinians can’t be anti-Semitic because they are Semites, and you can’t be anti yourself!

He reminded us that Arabs and Jews have Semitic roots. The state of Israel is a Jewish State. Judaism is a religion and not a nationality, either. He said that Israelis say they are a democracy so they can’t say they are a religious state — but they divide people by race. If that weren’t the case, a Palestinian who was a Jew could have freedoms. But they don’t. So this is an issue of dividing people by their race and ethnicity. It is a separation by race.

He went on to say that he was a Christian but that his Christianity was not a product of Western society. It wasn’t brought here by others as a “mission field.”

The first mission field was the Shepherd’s Field, and he won’t let others colonize his Christianity.

He went on to tell us that he was a refugee. His father was born in a camp, and because of that, he is a refugee and so is his son. What that means to him, he said he was unsure. Do I want to kick out the people who are living in my grandfather’s house? The house that my ancestors built but was taken from them?

The situation is complicated, but because his family home was taken, he has no hometown to name. So he is a refugee.

And finally, he is a Lutheran pastor. He finds his identity in service to others. He chooses to give back and in spite of the oppression and struggle, he chooses to live in hope.

He shared with us one of the last words of Dietrich Bonhoeffer, a fellow Lutheran pastor who went to his death for siding with the those who were standing up to oppression of Jews and others during World War II. Before he died, he said, “A faith that does not hope is sick.”

Ashraf agrees with Bonhoeffer and also believes that faith without serving and working for reconciliation and justice is also sick, So he serves as a pastor.

He lives as a human, Arab, Palestinian, Semitic, Christian, refugee Lutheran pastor, finding his identity in each and his hope in Christ.

The final act is one of devotion. We went to the Church of the Holy Nativity, where history has said for over 1,700 years that Jesus was born.

A sign welcomes visitors to Bethlehem.

The line was long and the rest of the group did not want to wait in it, but Betsie and I did. We came all the way to Bethlehem, so we figured we had to make room to see the place where the manger lay. We told our group we would take a taxi back to the hotel, and we waited in line.

Do we know that Jesus was actually born there? Hardly. But nonetheless, throughout history this place has been honored — from empire to empire, generation to generation. So it is made holy in that alone.

For me, the process of the 45-minute wait with the crowds was worth it. Was it a jostling group of people? Yes. But our focus was the same — to visit and see, to experience, to place my hand on a spot where millions have placed their hands before me, in an act of pilgrimage. To see where the baby lay.

The holiness was found in a shared faith, in the singing with a group from so many nations of “Silent Night” in the cave where a manger once laid, in the recognition that I am part of something bigger than myself, that expands before and behind me, world without end. That word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we are the living stones that reflect the message that Jesus spread.

So the play tells of us the land, the culture, identity and finally, why we all care so much. Each part is filled with blood-stained tears and horror, but also hope.

It is that hope to which we cling until the curtain goes down, knowing that God, in the end, takes the final bow — and love wins.

PAULA MEHMEL: Shoot the Rapids — The Holy Land, Day 8, Old Hebron

I have traveled the world and been in all sorts of situations. But I never experienced what I did today in Hebron. I walked through what felt like a war zone on a tense truce as I saw a town gasping for its own survival.

Israeli flag staking claim to Palestinian property.
Israeli flag staking claim to Palestinian property.

This story, which is the story of Old Hebron, began in 1979 when a group of extreme Zionist women and children broke through to Palestinian territory and took control of a building there. Although it was illegal, they were allowed to stay. The Israeli government did nothing to remove them.

After one year of remaining in the building, tragically extremists on the Palestinian side killed six of the settlers. Once that happened, the settlers were allowed to stay and 40 families joined them. They took control of Palestinian territory.

Because this was in Palestinian territory that is controlled by the Israeli Army, the army took pains to protect the illegal settlers. Today there are 700 settlers protected by 2,000 Israeli soldiers in an area that is actually part of Palestine.

We were led on a tour by Anna, a human rights observer for the World Council of Churches, along with Iris, from Uruguay. Their job is to watch what is happening, report it,  videotape it and share it with others, as well as being present to help protect children going to school..

They showed us the empty streets of a ghost town being choked to death.

Places where there had been vibrant businesses and a market were forcibly closed by the Israeli Army because it claimed there were security concerns. Palestinian homeowners needed to put bars on their windows to protect their homes from attacks from settlers. Where Palestinians had abandoned their homes because of their inability to have any mobility or businesses, a flag of Israel hung, claiming it for the settlers.

Street signs in Hebron are in Hebrew. There is no Arabic in a city mainly inhabited by Palestinians.
Street signs in Hebron are in Hebrew. There is no Arabic in a city mainly inhabited by Palestinians.

The names of the streets were all changed from their Arabic names to Hebrew names, and the street signs were in English and Hebrew. Keep in mind — this is Palestinian territory.

Our guide told us horror stories. She showed us a gate that students and teachers must go through to attend school each day that is controlled by the Israeli military. The people who live in the area by the gate also must pass through. But the residents are the only Palestinians allowed through the gate. They are forbidden to receive any Palestinian visitors.

Because of the control of the occupying Israeli forces, ambulances can’t come into this region. If residents need medical help, they must be carried out. And because there are turnstiles at the checkpoint, the army needs to open the gates to get through. Unfortunately, they are closed at night, and so the residents are trapped.

She said that when people go through Checkpoint 56, only internationals and residents can enter that area. No other visitors, except the schoolteachers and students at the school, are allowed.

Those who live there have a handwritten number on their pass and they give it to the guards. They are then told if they are on the list. If the soldier says they are not on the list, they can be made to wait for hours, even if they have lived there their entire lives. They are at the mercy of the whims of the soldiers.

Teachers are often detained, as well, making them late for school, even though their passes clearly said that they are allowed to enter.

Our guide, Anna, a human rights observer for the World Council of Churches.
Our guide, Anna, a human rights observer for the World Council of Churches.

Our guide was there to report what she sees and she told us. She had been personally assaulted and hit and spat upon and had eggs thrown and urine dumped on her.

As she walks with the children to school, settlers  throw rocks and hurl insults at children. They dump urine on them. But the Palestinians are helpless to respond. The goal is to get them to retaliate and if the Palestinians do, they are put in prison or their homes are taken. The only thing they can do in the face of vitriol and assault is to run away because any other response will get a person detained to face charges.

Anna told us there are two sets of laws. The Palestinians face military law, so a thrown rock is an act of terrorism. For the Israeli it is civil law and a minor—uncharged — offense.

At 14, a Palestinian can be put in jail as an adult — and if they are 13, they are held until they are 14 to be charged. It isn’t the age when they commit the act, it is the age they are when they go to trial. And children can serve up to 15 years in prison for throwing a rock.

At 14, Palestinian children can be jailed.
At 14, Palestinian children can be jailed.

She told us that last week 14 Palestinian children — all under the age of 12 — were detained by the Israeli guards. They were put in a cage by the checkpoint together, so small cage that they were forced against one another. The military kicked them, hit them, took selfies in front of them.

And they did all of this while it was being videotaped by the human rights activists while others were watching.

Imagine what happens behind closed doors. In custody, people are blindfolded, spat upon and threatened to have their home taken away or to be thrown in prison. It is no wonder that so much anger is stirred between these two factions. It breeds hatred from the very beginning. It seems so hopeless.

The settlers are biding their time. They use claims of security concerns for the illegal settlers to  clamp down on every available freedom in order to make the place unlivable for the Palestinians. The settlers’ goal is to  provoke violence from the Palestinians in order to claim more territory as their own when they act out.

Yet nonviolent resisters hold onto the hope that some day they will be able to keep their land, and in the meantime, maintain their dignity. They also want to  help those who wish to respond in violence to turn to nonviolence as a way to survive. Violence will lead them to lose what they have. So the Palestinians  need to hold on, hope and pray that world will care enough to say “enough.”

After our tour, we had dinner in the home of a Palestinian woman. We reclined in a room that was reminiscent of the upper room and shared a feast she made and then she came in to join us.

She lives in fear that her home is next, that what happened in the Old Town will happen to her, and in the reality of economic and physical oppression.

She first made it clear that the Palestinians don’t fight because the people are Jewish. They are willing to share. But they also want to keep what is theirs.

She said, “It is so hard, but we know we will go to heaven for surviving this. That is our hope. We suffer so much. We have no weapons. They surround us with guns, but we have only our bodies.

“Our children are in prisons you built with your U.S. tax dollars. We need you to look at what we see and feel what we feel. To see what it is like. We aren’t fighting because they are Jewish. We fight because it is our home and our land. Peace you should feel. We don’t feel safe. We need to feel safe. Then we can talk about peace.”

She finished by saying, “I just want to share. What you want for yourselves you should want for me.”

This is a sad and hard story of a town being killed and the people within it slowly losing hope, as their neighbors wonder if they are next. But it needs to be shared.

I can testify with my own eyes what I saw and what I heard with my own ears in order to know what my brothers and sisters in Hebron are feeling.

This is an illegal occupation, and we need to advocate for a powerless people. They deserve justice, dignity and human rights. Layla is right. We should want for them the basic rights what we want for ourselves, and anything less than that is not enough.

PAULA MEHMEL: Shoot the Rapids — The Holy Land, Day 8, Hebron

In February 1994, I wrote a letter to the editor of The Fargo Forum.

I wrote it on a Saturday morning. The day before two events occurred. In one, Nancy Kerrigan and Tonya Harding faced off in the Ladies Short Program of the 1994 Winter Olympics.

In the other, 29 Muslims, including women and children who had come to pray early in the morning at the beginning of Ramadan, were mowed down by an American-born Zionist Jew who subsequently was beaten to death by those in attendance at the Mosque because the Israeli  military did nothing to respond when it happened.

Guess which one covered three-quarters of the front page of the paper and which one was relegated to the bottom of Page 3?

That, as you may guess, was the topic of my letter. How we get so caught up in pop culture and scandal that we miss what really matters.

Today, I visited a site that has been haunting my heart for over 20 years.

The story of Hebron is a classic tale that has both sides calling for justice.

In 1929, there were 700 Jews and 20,000 Palestinians living peacefully in Hebron. However, a group of Muslim extremists entered Hebron and massacred 67 Jews. Hundreds more were protected by their Palestinian neighbors, but in the end, all of the Jews were asked to leave because Britain could no longer protect them.

Following the Six Day War in 1967, even though it was still determined to be Palestinian territory, settlers returned to Hebron. They first came and stayed at a hotel, claiming to be tourists. But they didn’t leave. And so eventually, it was declared legal for them to be there — taking territory that was not theirs in the center of the city.

Today Hebron is a bustling city, with almost 300,000 people in the city and 1 million in the metro area. Thirty percent of all of the West Bank Palestinians live there, and it is the sight of the most successful business ventures  in Palestine. Eighty percent of the residents are Palestinians and 20 percent are Jewish.

But it also remains one of the most volatile spots in all of Israel and Palestine, where tensions run high and the threat of violence seems omnipresent.

When we got off of our bus, we walked through the area of Hebron that is controlled by Palestine, known as H1. As we walked there, we saw vibrant markets and lively people, with good produce, plenty of wares and energy and all the excitement of any city market I have visited the world over.

But as soon as we crossed over into H2, which is controlled by the Israeli Army, everything changed. The streets were quiet, the shops were closed, and the people were sparse.

When we finally entered a market where there a few shops, it was apparent we were an oddity. I asked Tariq, our guide, and he said that Americans and most tourists enter through the Israeli-controlled area. Never through this route. People don’t see this side of Palestine.

As we walked through the area we saw why. Overhead, there was a mesh material  that was covered with garbage and rocks that was used to protect Palestinians from the attacks of settlers. We were told, however, that the mesh didn’t hold back the hot oil and urine that rained down from the settlements above.

Once we went through more security, we were able to enter the Mosque where the massacre occurred. After the massacre, the mosque was shut down by the Israelis. When it was opened six months later, the shared space had been split in two by walls.

So the Tombs of the Patriarchs and Matriarchs, the place that housed Abraham, Sarah, Isaac, Rebekah, Jacob and Leah’s tomb literally had a partition in the middle. Where previously people had been able to pray and worship together, there were divisions.

In order to reach this area to pray, Muslims have to go through a checkpoint. We were being led by a guide from the World Council of Churches who was there as a human-rights advocate to witness the checkpoint and make sure that Muslims have access to worship freely.

She told us that last week she saw a man go through the checkpoint to worship. He was stopped. He was asked to lift up his shirt and his pant leg in front of a female soldier. He was asked for his ID, and it was taken from him. He was told to wait. And wait. And wait. After over one hour, he was finally cleared. The only trouble was, worship was over.

The Israelis took his ID, handcuffed him and left him to wait. They asked him no questions. They just humiliated him and then let him go. That is the indignity that the Palestinians face, in their own territory, as an occupied people. So anger builds.

One of the spiritually amazing points of the trip was seeing Abraham’s tomb — and looking down into the cave where he is buried, deep below the current site where the tomb lies. This is a historical location that is not questioned. This is where he was buried. And you could look down and see the candles that are relit every day in his tomb, keeping the light burning.

Women had to wear robes to enter the synagogue.
Women had to wear robes to enter the synagogue.

We were then able to enter the synagogue. In the aftermath of the 1994 massacre, the two areas are only opened to each other 10 days a year. For the Jewish High Holy Days, no Muslims can enter, and during the Holy Days of the Muslim years, no Jews can enter.

The goal seems to be to keep the two groups separate, filled with fear and  loathing for each other, no area for mutual understanding.

We did have one wonderful moment of triumph. Our tour guide had told us, even though he is an approved tour guide (a stringent process) and a citizen of Israel, he may not be able to enter the synagogue to guide us because he is Muslim.

Our Muslim guide takes a selfie in front of the synagogue.

As we entered, they asked him if there were any Muslims in his group, to which he honestly answered, “no.”  None of us are Muslims. So he saw the synagogue for the first time. The picture I have of him taking a selfie in front of the synagogue will be a cherish photo of the trip. This is what should be the norm, not the exception.

When I wrote that letter to the editor back in 1994, I was right. It was a game-changer. Prior to that, there had been some hope for the Oslo Accord, that peace was a possibility. But that man who shot and killed 29 people in February accomplished his goal. He further divided the people, so that the prospect of peace became less and less possible.

The mosque and the synagogue share different sides of Abraham’s tomb. Abraham was the father of both the Islamic faith through his son Ishmael and the Jewish and Christian faith through Isaac, but the divide between the two remains, thousands of years later.

They are reminiscent of children in the back seat of the car who can’t get along in the small space and keep hitting each other. … One strikes out and then the other, crying, “He started it. No, he did. He hit me first.” And so the battle continues.

Hebron means friend,  but they are far from being that here, and the walls between them are real.

PAULA MEHMEL: Shoot the Rapids — The Holy Land, Day 7

Today we journeyed to Bethlehem (pictured above). No star to guide us, but walls to divide us, and to divide the Palestinian people.

Once we passed through the wall, we headed to the Shepherd’s Field, where shepherds kept their watching o’er silent flocks by night. This was without a doubt my favorite place we have visited so far in terms of the main “Jesus sites.”

Perhaps it was because we got there early and had the place to ourselves or because the skies we saw were the same ones they saw, but it felt more intimate, more real.

We walked around an archeological area into a cave, and the bishop went further into the cave once he had a flashlight, and I followed. I was a bit dubious when I had to get on my hands and knees (I was wearing white) and crawl, but I kept moving forward until we came to small “stairs” carved into the cave.

The whole time I am praying, “Please God, not an earthquake today.” Finally, light was at the end of the tunnel, and we emerged from a hole on the other side of the fence that said “Danger, Do not cross.”

So now, whenever I speak about the hills and rocky caves in Bethlehem, I will have a reference point. Good way to begin a tour.

We headed to the church there, which was simple and beautiful, and we sang all the shepherd Christmas songs. As I sang “Angels We Have Heard on High” I wept. It felt real and powerful and beautiful. And somehow knowing that a host of angels came to a group of outcasts at the edge of a small town to proclaim “Good Tidings of Great Joy for All People “ gave me hope, even as we looked out at a settlement of Israelis which was on land land from Palestinian Christians. These people need that same hope.


After getting my photo taken with a lamb outside the gate (yeah, I know, so touristy … but I like that every once in awhile and I like little lambs) and shopping at a cooperative that aids the poor of Bethlehem, we headed to Christmas Lutheran in Bethlehem.

Their pastor, Pastor Munther Isaac, worked first as a civil engineer before his call to theology and then ministry . He has a PhD from Oxford but was just ordained and has the heart of a pastor. I was moved by his humble passion.

He shared with us that Protestants are about 8 percent of the 45,000 Christians in the occupied territories. But their numbers are going down. Because of their restrictions of movement and the lack of access to water, people get fed up and leave, and when they do, their land is taken by the Israeli government.

He said they live in peace with their Muslim neighbors, and the Palestinian Authority treats them well, but it is very hard, as they are so few and the world seems to be putting more emphasis on religion, not just their identity as Palestinians.

When I asked him what he wanted people to know, he said, “I want people to know that we Palestinian Christians exist and that they have brothers and sisters here who need their support and prayers more than ever. We live in an historically significant time, and we are headed for another flash point. Because our numbers are small, we are in a crisis for Christians in the Holy Land.

“Our perception here is that the world doesn’t care that the future of Christianity in the Holy Land is stark. So I ask, are you willing to take a stand? Are you willing to speak up for Palestinian Christians in the Middle East?

“People want to not cause problems. To not offend people by standing up for the rights of Palestinians. But this is a matter of justice. Palestinian Christians should have rights, and we need to advocate for them.

“This is a church that is struggling to survive because of oppression and occupation. There is an urgent need to know that you care. Small initiatives to show that you care matter to us. Sending us notes, telling us that you are praying for us and advocating for our rights. You have sisters and brothers in Christ, and you need to hear their cries.”

He went on to say that most people who come to Bethlehem don’t hear the stories of Palestinian Christians. They come in fear into the West Bank, spend two hours at the sites and leave. He called it “running where Jesus walked.” He said “A real pilgrimage is to listen to stories of the people. Not just run in fear and leave.”

When I asked about the stories I could share, he said he would just visualize who sits where on a Sunday morning and tell me their pain. Like the Palestinian man who married a Bolivian woman. The Israeli government won’t let her come here. If a Palestinian marries an American, and they decide to live in America, the Palestinian will not be permitted to come back to the West Bank.

He told the story of how the settlements wanted to take the land of a farmer who had farmed the land for countless generations. The family had to stay there 24 hours a day. The Israeli government authorities cut off their electricity and water, but still they stayed. They are trying to fight it in court, but the decisions are made by those who oppose the Palestinians being there. He said they say it is about security, but really it is about land grabs. Taking land that is not theirs.

Pastor Munther shared that he knows the way is hard, but he wants to be a pastor, and he talked about working on children’s ministry and Bible study and pastoral care.

He is a noted theologian — an expert on the land and what people think the Bible says and what it actually says about the promised land and God’s chosen people. When he worked at an ecumenical Bible college, he challenged evangelicals to focus on mission and justice, which is needed now, and not prophecy, which is speculative. I was deeply impressed and deeply moved by his sincerity, intelligence and commitment.

From there, we headed to Aida Refugee Camp, which has about 5,000 residents living in two city blocks (low-rise housing.) The refugees originally came from towns and cities all over Israel/Palestine after their land was taken from them in 1948.

The leader of our cooking class, Islam, was born in the camp. She is the mother of six children, one of whom had a disability. She told us that it was considered shameful to have a child with any disabilities and that the schools did not have the resources to help them.

She started this cooking classes to help provide funds so that her differently abled child, as well as others in the camp (currently there are 125)  would receive care, therapies, and an education. They also provide home stays to give people a chance to understand what life in a refugee camp is like and with the help of some foreign volunteers, were able to produce a cookbook they sell to benefit the children.

The class was nothing short of pure joy. We learned how to chop in a Palestinian way, were schooled in proper techniques of deep-frying, prepared and learned about spices, as well as presentation. For them to provide such a welcome service and share their wisdom and knowledge was astounding.

These are not poor pathetic women. They are fierce, powerful, loving, hospitable, gracious and kind. They were born into nothing, but they are determined to make something of their lives.

I was reminded again of my great good fortune — a freak of nature — that I was born when and where I was. Anyone who looks down on refugees doesn’t get it. These are the Darwinian best a society has to offer — the survival of the fittest.

I suspect more than a few of us would fail miserably and be overcome by grief and despair. The next time I want to complain about a First World problem, I will need to take a deep gut check and remember Islam and her sister entrepreneurs, who will do whatever it takes for their children.

After our feast — and a feast it was- — of Maqlubah, an amazing dish of vermicelli, rice, vegetables and chicken, a salad and dessert called Basbussa, which was coconut heaven — I washed dishes with Rania, a woman who had been widowed for 13 years with five children, the oldest of whom was 18. Her husband was strangled during the Second Intifada by Israeli soldiers, and she knew pain and sorrow, but lived in joy.

As we left the camp, the words of one of our hosts rung in my ears. “We see the world with two eyes. One sees the suffering we face and the horrible conditions. The other sees the joy the world offers. We need to see and be aware of both.”

They refuse to be defeated but also to ignore their reality and not do what they can to change it, in whatever way they can.

Today I was reminded that I need to see with my eyes the suffering of the world, and of these people who have lived in a concrete jungle of a refugee camp their whole lives, and share it with others but also remember their joy and determination and relentless pursuit of what is best for their children.

Because as Rania said to me, “We are both single mothers, so we understand.” And because I understand, I will work for justice — for all God’s children. Especially the forgotten disabled children of Aida.

PAULA MEHMEL: Shoot the Rapids — The Holy Land, Day 5

After doing a photo essay yesterday on Facebook, it is back to blogging today, to sort out what was a day of intense emotion.

As it is Sunday, and we are a group from the New England Synod visiting our Companion Synod, The Evangelical Lutheran Church of Jordan and the Holy Land, we set off early for worship.

Our group headed to Redeemer Lutheran, in the heart of Old Jerusalem, and split into two groups. Half went to worship with Redeemer’s Arabic-speaking congregation in the main sanctuary and the other half went to the English speaking service. Since I have already worshipped with Lutherans on four continents in four different languages this year, I said I would go wherever the smaller group went, so I ended up worshiping with Redeemer’s English-speaking congregation.

The service, however, was not small. It was packed to the gills. Overflowing. As in standing room only. I guess it is hit and miss — some days they have a lot of visitors and others just a few people. During the service, we were asked to pray the Lord’s Prayer in our native tongue, and it sounded like Pentecost. It was a standard Lutheran service — ELW setting 6. The sermon was good and the singing robust.

Pastor Christine Ballanger Smith.
Pastor Christine Ballanger Smith.

After worship and a joint “tea hour” between the two congregations, we had a wonderful visit with the ELCA missionary serving in Jerusalem, Pastor Carrie Ballanger Smith.

She explained to us the ELCA model for mission — accompaniment. Accompaniment means that the ELCA and its staff walk with God’s people in solidarity, encouraging interdependence and mutuality. It is not “the Americans” coming in and setting the agenda but rather listening to the indigenous community and providing whatever we can to facilitate a healthy church community with their guidance.

Currently, there are 2,500 Lutheran Christians in the ELCJHL, Palestinians who trace their roots back to the time of Christ. However, the impact extends far beyond that small number. The ELCJHL, as I wrote earlier, is known for its excellent schools, at which both Christians and Muslim Palestinian youth are educated together, in a coed environment.

They provide witness not by proselytizing the Muslims but rather by peace education. Their goal is that the 3,000 students in Lutheran schools in the West Bank learn as boys and girls are treated as equals. The hope is that they will be able to “convert” anyone with extremist tendencies to develop a sense of moderation and understanding to promote peace making.

Bishop Younan once did a calculation that because of the depth and breadth of the work of the ELCJHL in their schools, they have had an influence on one-fifth of all Palestinians in the West Bank. That is a profound impact for a church of only 2,500 members.

Pastor Ballanger Smith reiterated what the bishop had told us. She emphasized that the story told about Christians leaving because of persecution by Muslims is not true. Christians who leave Palestine are not doing so because they can’t live in peaceful communion with their Muslim neighbors but because of the economic disparity that results from living in an occupied land, where they have so many freedoms removed because of their ethnicity.

One of the things we discussed was extremism. Pastor Ballanger Smith and her husband, who works with an ecumenical group of Christians in Jerusalem, said that one of the big challenges that both Israel and Palestine face is the problem of extremists, and it is important to note that there are extremists who are Muslims, Jews and Christians in Jerusalem and Israel, who all have designs on it for their own personal agendas and it is vital to move beyond extremism and hatred.

That is one of the reasons one should always refer to the people who are native as Palestinians because the use of the word “Arab” in this context becomes a pejorative that pursues an extremist agenda to classify people rather than recognize this as their homeland.

Soldiers can be found everywhere.
Soldiers can be found everywhere.

One of the points that they made that hit me was that the problem is not that Palestinians and Israelis intractably hate each other. The problem is that Palestinians are oppressed by a military occupation of the land they once owned. The injustices that result in different treatment because of one’s race are apparent and painful. No one wants to be oppressed. Segmenting people by their race is wrong.

On the other side, most Israelis simply don’t understand the oppression. They have never seen the injustices of what life is like on the other side of the wall. They are taught to be fearful and to attribute all of the limits to the need for security. It creates distrust, It makes relationships hard to form.

We were urged, as Lutherans who want to be faithful to what we are learning, to advocate for peace and fair treatment of Palestinians back in the U.S. because what the U.S. says and does makes a huge difference and our voices matter.

After taking all of this in, we had lunch at what Tariq, our guide, said was the best hummus place around. I say second-best — the place the night before was better — but it is a contest I enjoy! The meal, which included salad, falafel and pomegranate juice, was filling and superb.

We then wandered through the Old City, checking out a place for spices, coffee, and some incredible dessert that was like cheese meets pasta meets ooey gooey goodness with pistachios on top. Its called knafeh, and I highly recommend it.

Topographical map of the city of Jerusalem with the Second Temple intact.
Topographical map of the city of Jerusalem with the Second Temple intact.

We then headed off for a quick tour of the Israel Museum, where we saw a huge topographical map of the city of Jerusalem with the Second Temple intact. It gave a good feel for where things were in the biblical times, and I appreciated the perspective. It reminded me of the huge map at Gettysburg, where you get the feel for the battle, and I’m glad I saw it.

The Dead Sea Scrolls are also housed in the museum. It was incredible to see this amazing piece that showed us the written word from thousands of years ago — the second-oldest surviving manuscripts of Hebrew Scriptures. We were able to see the Book of Isaiah. It was astounding.

From there we ventured to Yad Vashem, Israel’s official memorial to the victims of the Holocaust. It is dedicated to preserving the memory of the dead, honoring the Jews who fought against their Nazi oppressors and Gentiles who selflessly aided Jews in need.

I have been to a lot of Holocaust memorials in several countries as well as four concentration camps. I am always struck by the different focus each one has. In this one, a couple of things carried profound impact. One was a sculpture or diorama that pictured the Jews entering the showers at Auschwitz, then disrobing for showers, then the horrors of the masses being gassed and finally a depiction of them carrying the bodies out and putting them in the ovens to burn.

I have seen the ovens and the showers in several camps … but I have never felt the impact that display provided. The goal of the curator was to remind us that it wasn’t “6 million Jews” but 6 million individual murders. That hit home hard.

I learned more about the resistors to the Nazis within the camps and ghettos than I had before, and I was moved to see Schindler’s actual list of those he saved from death, as he was honored in the Righteous Among the Nations.

One aspect that was different than any memorial I have ever seen was how less nuanced they were about the role of Christians in justifying or ignoring the Holocaust as well as the fact that the pope did nothing to prevent it and basically was co-opted in collusion to avoid attacks on the church. They laid out the simple truths of what the church did to look the other way in the face of this terror and how at some points they actually aided and abetted Hitler.

Sometimes, I think we try to cover up things with niceties and to be honest, 80 percent of all clergy said nothing as Hitler and his apologists focused hatred on specific groups based on their ethnicity, demanded loyalty above all else from those who were members of the Party, took control of the media for purposes of propaganda and sought to rework the justice, education and foreign service to their ends.

By going along or looking the other way, they became complicit in the atrocities that followed as the slippery slope of marginalizing a people based on race, religion and sexual orientation fell into the deep pit that became acceptance of the unthinkable.

As a pastor, it was a stark reminder that I cannot remain silent in the face of similar injustice. It is yet another time when the words of Santayana ring through my ears. “Those who do not remember the past are condemned to repeat it.”

I left Yad Vashem reminded once again to never underestimate humanity’s ability to do the unthinkable and my responsibility to seek to be righteous among the nations as well when I am able, and to speak up for those who are being oppressed and hiding in the shadows — at home and abroad.

Silence in the face of injustice is complicity. It was then. It is now. I just need to know what side of history I want to stand on.

PAULA MEHMEL: Shoot the Rapids — The Holy Land, Day 3

Although over the years I have read articles and books about the situation in Palestine and Israel, today as we drove through the West Bank and East Jerusalem on a tour led by Jeff Halper, the founder of the Israeli Committee Against Housing Demolitions, a nonprofit, direct action group dedicated to opposing and resisting the demolition of Palestinian homes, it came alive for me in a new way.

For those of you who follow my blogs, this one will be filled with a lot of statistics and history, but I think that it may be helpful to give those who are not fully versed in the struggle between Palestine and Israel a better understanding of what is going on. Although Jeff is a leader of a group with a very definite political agenda, I made certain to verify this information with others who are connected with the ministry of the Lutheran Church in the Holy Land.

It started 100 years ago, when the British Foreign Minister Balfour declared that the United Kingdom would look favorably on a national homeland for Jews in Palestine, recognizing the Zionist movement. It was, put simply, a classic case of colonialism, where one nation promises another nation its right to a third nation.

Fast forward to 1947, when after the Holocaust and diaspora of the surviving Jews, the United Nations came up with a plan to divide Palestine into two states, to provide the Jews with a homeland. Approximately one-third of the population would be Jews, mostly newcomers, who would receive 56 percent of the land and the remaining two-thirds would be the Palestinians, who traced their ancestral homes back thousands of years and who would receive 44 percent of the land. Approximately 2 percent of those totals would be Jerusalem and Bethlehem, which would be International cities.

The Palestinians rejected this as a takeover of their homeland and after the ensuing war in 1948,  Israel triumphed and came out with 78 percent of the land.

That remained the status quo until 1967, when during the 7 Day War, Israel conquered the West Bank, East Jerusalem and the Gaza Strip and Palestine became on occupied territory, controlled by Israel.

In 1988, the Palestine Liberation Organization declared independence and accepted the idea that there could be two separate states. The Palestinians were willing to give up claims to the 78 percent of the country they had owned prior to 1948 if they could have control of the 22 percent where they were now living, but Israel refused and tensions mounted during the First Intifada as Palestinians revolted for over five years.

The Oslo Accord in 1993 was a declaration of principle that although Israel did not agree to a two-state solution, it was willing to negotiate with the PLO, and the world community had a vision of two states, Palestine and Israel, co-existing together, within five years. In preparation for that, the Palestinian Authority was formed, and there were to be three withdrawals by the Israelis — of the Gaza Strip, the West Bank and East Jerusalem.

Whether this would have happened or not is unknown, but the assassination of Yitzhak Rabin by an extreme right-wing Zionist in November 1995 put an end to any hope for peace through the Oslo Accord. Bibi Netanyahu was elected on an anti-Oslo ticket, and Israeli withdrawals from the occupied territories ceased.

Even as the Israelis are building settlements on Palestinian land, there is a housing crisis in both the West Bank and East Jerusalem. The Israeli’s want more space for their settlements (communities of up to 120,000 people) and Palestinians want to be able to provide upkeep on their homes, have additions to their space and perhaps add an extra bathroom.

There is a lot of land available in East Jerusalem to build houses for Palestinians, who need an additional 25,000 housing units to provide adequate housing. But they can’t build on it for two reasons.

One is that they often lack the funds. Seventy percent of Palestinians live below the poverty line. Because the housing market is so tight, the prices are high. In addition, because foreign workers have been brought in to do jobs that Palestinians previously did, because you can pay foreign workers (from East Asia, Africa, etc) below the minimum wage, there is trouble finding employment.

In addition, all of East Jerusalem has been zoned as open green space. That allows Palestinians to own land but they can’t build on it. If they wish to build, they first must apply for a permit to rezone, which costs at least $20,000, which is hard when you are living on $1,200 a month. In addition, it is next to impossible to get a permit, since the commission that makes the decisions is entirely Israeli. Last year, for the 250,000 Palestinians living in East Jerusalem, 18 permits were awarded for any kind of addition or change to a house, no matter how minor.

However, if you don’t get a permit and you make a change to your house, or if you leave the area to work elsewhere, like the West Bank, because there are no jobs, or if the zoning commission finds something wrong with your house when they inspect it, it can schedule your house for demolition.

Since 1967,  50,000 Palestinian houses have been demolished in the occupied territories. Once they are demolished, the Israelis take hold of the land the house was on, rezone it immediately, place an Israeli flag on it and build a new home for an Israeli. As a result, Israel has been able to build massive settlements while Palestinians are not even allowed to add a story to their homes or make a change in their bathrooms.

In addition, the disparities between the Israeli and Palestinian parts of the occupied territories are vast. Palestinians in East Jerusalem are 37 percent of the people, they pay over 50 percent of the taxes and when you look at municipal ledgers, they receive 8 percent of the service — services like sidewalks, adequate water, electricity, regular garbage pick up and paved roads.

Garbage pickup is spotty in areas of East Jerusalem occupied by Palestinians.
Garbage pickup is spotty in areas of East Jerusalem occupied by Palestinians.

The difference between driving through the settlements and the Palestinian areas was profound and readily apparent. One area looked like an upscale suburban neighborhood, and as we drove along, we literally saw “where the sidewalk ends.”  The streets narrow and some aren’t paved. There are no streetlights, and it goes from finely manicured public landscaping to literally nothing. It is clear the garbage trucks haven’t been there for a long time. It is the same municipality and tax base, but they clearly have two tiers of services and infrastructure. In a matter of feet, it turns from suburbia to third world public space.

Water usage in the West Bank is a clear example of the disparity. Eight hundred thousand Israelis live in the West Bank and 2.5 million Palestinians. However, the Israelis receive 85 percent of the water resources. Palestinians have barrels on their roofs that water trucks have to fill to preserve water when there are water shortages or no water flows. Israelis have no barrels on their roofs because that never happens to them.

I will write another day about the wall and what that means, as well as reflections on the inequity, but the piece that impacted me so profoundly today was how easy it is for these Palestinians to lose their homes and how unfair the system is.  As someone who is about to sign papers to purchase my first home, I am filled with pride that I will at long last be a homeowner. I can’t imagine the feelings that the Palestinians who have lived in the same place for hundreds if not thousands of years experience when they look out the window one day and see that the bulldozers have shown up.

They live with this fear because currently there are thousands of homes slated for demolition, but the authorities do them randomly, without prior notice, keeping people off guard and uncertain. The bulldozers just show up one day and the house is gone. I talked to church leaders who knew of men who literally died of strokes or heart attacks as the demolition occurred and even more who have lost their will to live. It is truly devastating.

Jeff, our Israeli guide for this tour of the inequities between areas, is committed to getting the word out about how this system of home demolition works and how unfair the system is because when he talked to Palestinians, they repeatedly said home demolition was the most demoralizing aspect of their lives.

Sadly, most Israelis are unaware of what is going on. The lives of the Israelis and Palestinians are kept separate, and when you are in a settlement, it is easy to see how you could be unaware of the struggles of a group you have been taught to hate and fear.

My commitment is to share facts that I heard, sights that I saw and stories that are true to help others understand more about the struggles the people living in the occupied territories face. It was a heavy morning, and I know this blog reads like a history lesson, but it is history I learned and feel compelled to share, as I seek to live in solidarity with a people that are clearly oppressed.