|
| |
Tree of Life Journey
February 2010
GROUP REFLECTIONS
4/11/2010
Dan Renn
INTRODUCTION
Isaiah prophesizes the coming of Jesus. “He will bring forth Justice
for Truth. He will not fail nor be discouraged till he has established justice
in the earth.”
Letter of Paul to the Ephesians. “That God our Father may give you
the spirit of wisdom and revelation… the eyes of understanding… that you know
the hope of his calling and the riches of his glory… “
Let me open by thanking David & the rest of the ministers for this
chance to share our stories with all of you. I asked if we could reprise a
moment or two of our trip as a gift back to the Congregation – his response was
to offer this opportunity to share our reflections. It’s a little intimidating
to stand here at this point in the service, but we’ll do our best
Speaking on behalf of the 2010 Tree of Life Journey
participants I would like to thank all of you, our family at First
Congregational Church of Old Lyme, for your support – your time, your
understanding, your prayers, your patience and your blessings. I know in my
heart that none of this would be possible without the deep commitment we all
feel towards our outreach missions – local, national and international, and
equally as important, the commitment I have seen from all the boards,
committees, the administration and everyone who works behind the scenes to keep
our church community strong and vibrant. We have heard David speak about the
100th anniversary of the re-building of this beautiful meetinghouse – how in
that dark moment the congregation stepped up and shouldered the burden of
resurrecting this landmark. We witness that same spirit alive every day in the
many ministries of our church.
So, in view of all you have given to us, our group would like to
offer you a glimpse of the journey – not photographs or a travelogue (although
I’m sure those are available if you really want to see pictures of David and
Carleen riding camels) – but a moment or two of reflection on what the trip
meant to some of the travelers, what they saw, what moved them and what they can
offer back to you.
"We often think of peace as the absence of war, that if powerful
countries would reduce their weapon arsenals, we could have peace. But if we
look deeply into the weapons, we see our own minds - our own prejudices, fears
and ignorance... To work for peace is to uproot war from ourselves and from the
hearts of men and women. To prepare for war, to give millions of men and women
the opportunity to practice killing day and night in their hearts, is to plant
millions of seeds of violence, anger, frustration, and fear that will be passed
on for generations to come. " - Thich Nhat Hanh (Living Budda, Living Christ)
CLOSING &
INTRODUCTION TO "IMAGINE"
[John Lennon's "Imagine" sung by Mattie and the Congregation]
On our last full day in Beit Sahour, Sunday, March 14th –
even now it is hard to keep the dates sorted – our group had a very meaningful
service in one of the caves overlooking Shepherds’ Field, a location
traditionally identified with the angels’ appearance to the shepherds of the
Nativity story. As those of you who have made the journey already know, it is a
moment to be cherished. Also, if you’ve made any trips with David & Jiries, you
know these moments come in the middle of great activity. Sometimes it’s hard to
keep things sorted. Earlier that Sunday morning we been to the Latin-Catholic
service (in Arabic), visited the Church of the Nativity, bullet holes and all,
toured Bethlehem’s Old City – shopping and all, had a wonderful Sunday dinner
with our hosts, and were on our way to a USA vs. Palestine soccer match and then
a full blown dance party later that night. It is important at these moments to
take a deep breath.
We made our way from the Shepherds’ Field YMCA buildings down to the
cave. It’s warm bordering on hot, but cools off every evening – desert weather.
This time of year, things are green on the hillsides & the grass is almost lush
do to recent, unusual rain. Our group is accompanied by some of our friends from
Beit Sahour, we are introduced to a few of them as we walk down a fairly steep
path to what looks like a series of caves. Carleen passes out candles as we walk
– long thin tapers, fairly pliable as it has been a hot day. When we get to the
cave I am surprised – it is airy and well lit and smells freshly cleaned. The
inside is lit. There is enough headroom to stand upright and plenty of room for
our group – which must be at least 40 at this point.
Carleen leads us through a service which the younger travelers in our
group have helped compose. Songs and hymns of peace we all know. They offer
reflections and prayers for justice and peace – as you have heard today. David
reads familiar passages from the Bible of angels and shepherds and glad tidings.
We sing Kumbaya, we sing Dylan. We close with Olivia leading us in John Lennon’s
Imagine. Today – as then – I am struck by the awful asymmetry. We see the
birthplace of Christ surrounded by a wall. We see the resources and land of The
fearful logic that dictates hatred between tribes - one armed with 21st
century weapons backed by the treasury of the most prosperous nation on earth
and one armed with slogans and stones and, in our family’s case non-violence.
But I have also seen miracles. Miracles of perseverance and love and
human compassion beyond my comprehension. Miracles of families bearing the
unbearable and facing what seems unfaceable. The miracle of existence. The
miracle of our presence in this place.
And so… Like our traveling companion on the road to Damascus, Saul,
the scales fall from our eyes. The spirit of God is present in the people I had
met in Beit Sahour; the families and the children; the spirit of God is present
also in the resistors and the internationals, and in the humanity of the young
Israeli men and woman who refuse to serve; I felt the presence of God in our
tour guides and our own leaders. But I also saw the presence of God in the young
men and woman holding guns and checking passports. And the Israelis on the
streets we passed in Jerusalem. Someday I pray we will all learn to see God in
each other. I especially see the spirit of God present in the young men and
woman who traveled with us and shared their hopes, joys and concerns with us.
And God is present here in this meetinghouse in each of us as well.
So, my faith is KNOWING that “with God all things are possible” and
through him what is impossible for man is made real. My faith today is knowing
that God resides in each of us, in you and I and in the Palestinians and the
Bedouins and the Israelis. And if the spirit of God is truly in us, then through
us all things are possible.
There is work to be done – work that will not be finished in our
lifetimes. I have hope and I have faith that someday Mattie’s children may have
the chance to harvest olives from the trees that we – and by that I mean all of
us – planted while we were at the Tent of Nations. Imagine that.
MATTIE
RENN
Good Morning. My name is Mattie Renn, and I was one of the eight
young people who went on the Tree of Life Journey this March.
When my father asked me to speak today, he asked me to take the most
important aspect of our trip to me, and to talk about it. That was almost
impossible, but in the end I decided on what was the most amazing experience for
me.
In the south of Israel, there are recognized and unrecognized Bedouin
villages. The Israeli government is attempting to contain the Bedouin population
by putting them in recognized ones. They offer villages for Bedouins that have
water, electricity, and other services. These villages are, in essence, housing
projects. On the other hand, in the unrecognized Bedouin villages where
generations have farmed and lived, electricity, water, and other services are
not provided. Building permits are unobtainable, but the Bedouins must build
houses to continue to grow and adequately house their families.
We went to one of these Bedouin villages, to the home of Khalil Al
Amour. He welcomed us with open arms and offered us tea and cake that his wife
had made. There were children who followed us. One of the girls gave me a little
hair tie, and I, in return, gave her a necklace. They were sweet. They were just
like kids everywhere else. They sleep like us. They eat like us. They laugh like
us. They cry like us. They dream like us.
And then we went on a tour of the village, with those little kids
following us. We saw a demolished house.
You think you understand how you’ll feel when you see one. You read
about it in books, and you think you understand. But that is nothing compared to
how it really is. After seeing those kids and feeling their humanity, you see a
house that could easily be theirs. It is on the ground; a heap of rubble that
housed their lives and their happiness and their sadness. And there are no words
to describe what you feel. There are no words.
Sue Frost
Tree of Life Journey 2010
On The Road To Damascus
Early on in our trip David spoke to us of why he had sub-titled our
journey “On The Road to Damascus”. It certainly made sense – there we were in
Syria, heading to Damascus, but the story of Saul’s conversion – the story of a
man who was blinded in order to see – became the prism, or more accurately the
kaleidoscope, through which I personally experienced Syria, Jordan, Israel and
the Occupied Territories.
After all, that was my reason for going on this trip – to “see” with
my own eyes the conflict in this region about which I had only heard – and
frankly, the more I had heard the more confused I was, so it was high time to
get some clarity. But I’ll be honest here – I had some ambivalence about
committing to the trip because I knew it was going to make me uncomfortable, but
Mattie, our 15-year-old, had set her feet firmly on this path with or without
her father and me, so we overcame our hesitation and joined the group.
And what DID I see?
Let’s start with our group – I saw 32 “pilgrims” – ranging in age
from 12 to (I think) 82 – none of whom were particularly accustomed to being
“herded” but who adjusted with unfailing good humor to early wake up calls,
challenging mountain hikes, forced marches through the souks with no time to
shop (!), long waits at checkpoints and border crossings, a range of stomach
upsets, and some pretty nasty bathrooms –
Syria: There are a kaleidoscope of images in my mind – the road sign
on the way to Palmyra pointing to Baghdad – 100 kilometers away – wow - the
hundreds of people, many of them in burkas, scurrying from refugee camps across
a four lane highway in Damascus with cars zooming in both directions – miles of
gorgeous scenery marred with specks of what turned out to be plastic bags.
Thousands and thousands of plastic bags dotting the landscape as far as the eye
can see, blown from garbage dumps that crop up willy nilly along the roads.
Smiling, curious children practicing their English – “American? You are
welcome!” “We have been waiting for you!” The inside of a church in Maalula,
one of the three villages in Syria where Aramaic, the language of Jesus, is
still spoken – and the soft, melodious sound of The Lord’s Prayer spoken in
Aramaic…the delicious dinner and wonderful entertainment in Nada and Bassam’s
family home our last night in Damascus. The perennially smiling face of our
guide, Shafik, growing still and shuttered when we ask where he is from – “Golan
Heights, my family is from Golan Heights. We left our home in 1967, and I have
never been there.” What does he see, I wonder?
We leave Syria and cross back to Jordan, then to Israel. The
kaleidoscope shifts as we spend the next several days in Israel and the Occupied
Territories of the West Bank and the Golan Heights – I see such contrasts:
green, rolling hills giving way to desert seemingly in the blink of an eye. The
crisp, cool air of the Golan gives way to heat and humidity less then two hours
later in Nazareth. Our teenagers showing their passports to other teenagers,
who happen to be in uniform with machine guns casually slung over their
shoulders. The underground shopping mall in West Jerusalem complete with
upscale stores and restaurants, literally steps from the Jaffa Gate and the old
city of Jerusalem. I really felt like I had wandered into Disneyland. But I
had, finally, found an ATM that took my debit card. I see myself, breathing a
sigh of relief, because I’m finally someplace that feels like home – a Gap, a
wine bar, a cinema. Ashamed of myself, I head back to the gate and the now
familiar bus. Ancient churches, synagogues, mosques – I see a world where
people of many faiths have worshipped for centuries, but the tension now is
palpable.
We meet with Michael of Breaking the Silence, and Maya of the Israeli
Committee Against House Demolition. We meet with members of the Parents’
Circle. Michael and Maya are Israeli’s – they tell us that they lived their
lives, in Israel, never SEEING a Palestinian as another human being, but as “The
Other” – the enemy – somebody bad who wants to kill them…the Palestinian and
Israeli members of the Parents’ Circle – now the closest of friends – had never
looked into the eyes of “The Other” until their grief over losing a loved one
drove them to walk away from the cycle of violence. I see the boulder blocking
the road to Daoud Nassar’s Tent of Nations, and the sign Daoud put up nearby
that reads “We Refuse to be Enemies”. I see the huge smile on Khalil Al
Amour’s face as he waves our bus down on the highway in the Negev Desert. That
smile never leaves his face – he is so proud to have us visit his home, and
drink his tea and eat his wife’s delicious cake - until he shows us the
demolished house in his unrecognized village – the house built by the village
for a single mother with three children – demolished because there was no
building permit, but building permits can’t be obtained in unrecognized villages
– the kaleidoscope is swirling around here, because it just doesn’t make any
sense to us. We’re in the middle of a desert, why should these people have
services cut off – no water, no electricity – to be forced into “recognized”
villages? I see our Native American friends at Green Grass – the descendants of
a proud people, forced off their land and penned up in reservations…
I see our friends, our host families in Beit Sahour. Smiling,
welcoming, their unending hospitality…I see that wall – hulking, covered in
graffiti and what we would call “outsider art”, chopping up the city of
Bethlehem…I see our friends, the Debka dancers, smiling in delight that we
really did, indeed, come to visit them as we promised we would when they were
here in Old Lyme…I see Father Manuel Mussalam in his home in Ramallah – he
cannot come to us in Bethlehem as his ID card places him in Gaza, where he
served for many years before retiring, and if he is caught at a checkpoint they
could send him back to Gaza – I see the tears in his eyes as he recounts the
horrors of Gaza – I see us shifting painfully in our seats as he tells us of the
children who died because there was no medical aid, no water, no help. I see
our teenagers playing soccer, and holding their own, with some pretty serious
Palestinian soccer players in a park threatened by Israeli settlements. I see
those settlements, everywhere, cropping up on hillsides where they have no
business being. I see our group of 32 in the Shepherd’s Cave in Beit Sahour,
attempting to reconcile our good fortune in being on such holy ground with the
reality of life here now. I see our host family again – we are all watching
soccer and MTV as we relax after yet another wonderful meal – the 17 year old
Luis, with dreams of going away to university, but unwilling to place too much
importance on that dream, as he is on a “list” – a potential terrorist, as he
just happens to be a 17 year old Palestinian male. I don’t see a terrorist, I
see a teenager watching MTV.
My kaleidoscope continues to shift. But I know what I
continue to see, no matter how it shifts. I see people. Real people. My eyes
are finally open.
Micah Todd
Marhaba!
Good morning to you all!
My name is Micah Todd, and I was very fortunate to join the church on
its most recent Tree of Life journey. I am a student at the University of
Connecticut, home to a certain women’s basketball team that has enjoyed
“moderate” success this year. For the sake of any Stanford parents here, I
won’t belabor this point anymore!
One of the most remarkable things I noticed during the trip was the
wide diversity of the functions of kids my age. I use the term “diversity” very
loosely…from soldiers to political activists. I am a student, and generally
when I see someone my age in the states I assume they’re attending some form of
post-secondary school. However, the dynamic in Israel-Palestine was something I
was not entirely accustomed to. Uconn has many politically involved
organizations and many ROTC students. I’m not suggesting that these groups are
something new; I’m merely saying that the context in which I viewed them was
significantly different in the Middle East. I was detained at the Israeli
border by a girl my age. I played soccer with Hazm, a member of the Democratic
Front for the Liberation of Palestine (DFLP), who was my age. As a group, we
spoke with an ex-Israeli soldier Mikhail who decided to serve in the military,
and a girl Maia, who decided not to serve in the military, who, again, were
around my age.
They’re around my age, and we’re all just kids. Yet upon them has
been forced a level of responsibility and maturity far beyond anything I could
ever imagine dealing with. Do they serve the military, even if they don’t agree
with its actions? Do they join a political organization, knowing that they will
endanger their families? The thought of handing an 18-year old i a gun is
certainly a very sobering one. The thought of a 20 year-old spending years in a
Syrian prison is even more horrifying. I must admit I found it very difficult
to give these kids a tangible essence- they just don’t seem like kids anymore.
But upon taking extra time to hear them, to listen, to understand
their stories, I have come to realize that they have all retained some sense of
humanity, some sense of…childhood. It is easy to demonize an Israeli soldier
for entering a house that is not theirs and causing unnecessary strife at
checkpoints. It is also easy to demonize a Palestinian who is a member of a
group that has, in the past, but no longer does, sponsored terrorism.
Now, I'm not condoning what the actions of these groups and
individuals. But they laugh, joke, tease, and cause shenanigans in general,
just like me. Maia could very well be a student in my Math class; Hazm could be
my roommate; and the girl at the border who detained me would very likely be the
TA for my Bio Lab , as she too enjoys giving me a hard time for doing nothing.
Now I know David's always quoting Thoreau and such,
and I’m not exactly the most intellectual person, but my senior year in high
school a friend of mine uncovered a poem we worked on in 1st grade that I
thought fit here quite well. It’s by a man named Shel Silverstein. And hey,
we’re kids. There’s no reason we can’t all get along.
-Two boxes met upon the road, said one unto the other,
-“if you’re a box, and I’m a box, then you must be my brother.
-our sides are thin, we’re cavin’ in, and we must get no thinner.”
-and so two boxes, hand in hand, went home to have their dinner.
Isaak Todd
Good Morning my name is Isaak Todd I am twelve years old and I was
the youngest member to go to the Middle East. One thing that struck me when I
went there was how hospitable the people were. when the eight youngest members
of our group went to the Bedouin shop (next to the paradise hotel) Majdi
welcomed us into his shop and gave us pins, which was either a camel or a dove
holding an olive branch as gifts and gave us tea. He even knew our friend
Dauwoid the head man at the tent of nations, and said ohh he is one of my best
friends, would you like me to call him so you can talk to him!!! And the next
day when I returned to buy a Palestinian flag he was just as nice. Mohammad at
the Dedeman hotel was a shop owner he warmly said “welcome to Syria!!!” Gave me
tea and showed me pictures of his falcons, and also he showed me pictures of
Plmarya covered in snow. He even gave me five old coins as a gift. To meet
these people, and many others, who before they even knew where you were from or
anything about you, they welcomed you into their shops or homes without
hesitation. The kindness and respect they demonstrated made this trip an
experience I will never forget and I wish to return there one day.
Thank you
|
