Strong Words, Festering Wounds, Finding it Hard to Bless

Our team was almost run over yesterday, but not by a vehicle! It was a pedestrian, an angry Israeli woman bent on sending a message to those of us standing with vulnerable people–in this place mostly Palestinians. When walking on the street or sidewalk, I often yield to others. I’m a big person and don’t want to own the space in front of me. It is a habit I’ve received from my father who is the quintessential gentleman. But today I don’t feel so gentle.

We were a group of four EAs [ecumenical accompaniers] walking toward Checkpoint 56, our main gateway to Shuhada street, the section most in conflict in Hebron. There are army barracks, watch towers, more guns than civilians, a few courageous Palestinians who won’t let go of their land or homes to the encroaching settlers. The school where we provide protective presence is also here. The Ibrahim mosque, that doubles as a synagogue on Saturdays for Jewish Shabbat is also close by. In a normal world, conflict is often a part of everyday life. Somehow this place does not feel normal.

As we were walking the street yesterday, this lady made a tack directly for us, not swinging wide or greeting us or any such thing I expect in a civil society. She did not know us. We do not know her. We were wearing our EAPPI vests. Some see us on the street monitoring movement at the Cordoba school, helping children feel safe. Could that be the source of this woman’s anger? We have been diligent to engage positively Israeli soldiers and a few settlers. We are doing our best to be neutral. As this settler charged toward us she clearly had the look of disgust. She started speaking Hebrew in staccato. Then the word “Auschwitz” came out of her mouth as she nearly knocked over my colleague. I got a tremendous chill, feeling this lady’s hate for us, a group of international visitors she had never met.

I’m finding it hard to bless some of those who apparently think we are the scum of the earth. Today as I was walking the streets in the old city, I looked up to a settler home above the main market street to see two children peering over their roof top perch. The boy was giving me the middle finger.

This morning I was drawn to this passage in The Message:

“If with heart and soul you’re doing good, do you think you can be stopped? Even if you suffer for it, you’re still better off. Don’t give the opposition a second thought. Through thick and thin, keep your hearts at attention, in adoration before Christ, your Master. Be ready to speak up and tell anyone who asks why you’re living the way you are, and always with the utmost courtesy. Keep a clear conscience before God so that when people throw mud at you, none of it will stick. They’ll end up realizing that they’re the ones who need a bath. It’s better to suffer for doing good, if that’s what God wants, than to be punished for doing bad. That’s what Christ did definitively: suffered because of others’ sins, the Righteous One for the unrighteous ones. He went through it all—was put to death and then made alive—to bring us to God.”