Immigrants' Journey Learning Lab
We are coming off a dynamic Learning Lab with faith leaders from around California. After two months of study and preparation, the Lab culminated with three days in the Borderlands learning from everyday peacemakers embedded in this complex reality in Tijuana and San Diego. Here are a couple participant reflections on how they were trained for the subversive work of everyday peacemaking through this experience.
Better to Receive
I was sitting on a raggedy picnic table looking up at the fence between Mexico and California... read more"Better to Receive" by Kate Hurley
Our dear friend Kate Hurley (singer, songwriter, and author of Cupid is a Procrastinator: Making Sense of the Unexpected Single Life) recently participated in one of our Immigrants’ Journey Learning Labs. Here is a reflection she posted to her blog, “The Sexy Celibate“…
I was sitting on a raggedy picnic table looking up at the fence between Mexico and California. Towards the top of the fence, there was a painting of a man holding a balloon with one hand, holding his wife’s hand with the other, and the children floating behind them. That image was copied over and over as far as I could see. It captured what many people at this fence must feel. The desire to fly.
Because the sky doesn’t have any borders.
We were in Friendship Park in Tijuana, a place where there is a fence instead of a wall so that people on both sides of the border can come to see each other.
Patches of the one you love through tiny holes is better than nothing, I guess.
I was on the Mexican side. Just a few stamps and a look at my pale complexion got me here. Just a few stamps would get me back over.
I watched the woman in front of me talking to her husband through the fence. Separated because of deportation, perhaps. She stuck her pinky in through the hole to touch her beloved’s skin.
So close, but so far away.
In that moment I wished that I could give this woman my passport, my easy access into a place that was locked to her. That she could go to her husband and hold him close to her heart instead of trying to reach for him through her tiny wishing squares.
During dinner the night before, I sat across the table from a man who had been deported hours earlier. He had lived in Arizona since 1991. The life he knew for 24 years including his wife, children, and grandchildren, became a distant memory in a matter of hours. There was little hope for him to reunite with them. The four story holding center we were staying in was filled with men with similar stories.
We had also met Oscar, an unsung hero who has picked up thousands of unaccompanied minors from the border and in Tijuana. He feeds them, clothes them, and tries everything he can to reunite them with their families. Many of these young ones would find themselves on the streets or sold into the sex trade if Oscar was not giving his life to help them.
All of this weighed heavy on my heart as I sat gazing at that painting of a family floating away to a better place.
I had faced some of my own small tragedies that week: I found out one of my best friends has cancer. Another dear friend’s father had a stroke. And a third friend lost her adult son in a diving accident.
Throughout the week, our group had talked about the beauty of lamenting. Of sitting with someone in their pain and mourning with them, not attempting to fix anything. Just saying “I see your pain, and I weep with you.”
So I let myself cry for a while. For me. For my friends. For these beautiful people. For a world that waits in ancient yearning for light to come.
An older Mexican lady wearing a dirty yellow dress came over to me. Her calloused hands reached for a bag of pork rinds that she was trying to sell, but she paused when she saw that I was crying. Compassion shined from her.
She set her basket down, put her hands on my shoulders, and said “Christo, te ama. Christo te ama.”
Christ loves you.
She continued to pray in Spanish, words I didn’t understand.
I realized in that moment that in my ten or so times coming to Mexico, I never came receiving. I came to give.
Throughout high school I came to put on Vacation Bible Schools, which are some of the best memories of my life. In college and after college I came to do more evangelistic trips, and also taught and played several times for different events.
I always came singing, preaching, giving. And there was nothing wrong with that. There was a place for that.
But this trip was different. I came with my community through The Global Immersion Project, an organization that has little agenda other than to seek to understand complex issues from different angles. This trip was helping us learn how to become everyday peacemakers, which looks a lot like listening hard to someone’s story, and in responsecontending with them, (tending to the issue with them), and working with each other and with God to see restoration come.
I realized on this trip that the narrative of immigration had been tightly woven into Mexican culture, but I knew almost nothing about it. I was acting like one of those friends that takes you to coffee and talks so much that you never get a word in edgewise. I finally stopped long enough to hear the people I have loved for so long tell their story.
It only took me two decades to realize that it was their turn to talk.
I listened. The story was tragic and beautiful. Like listening to a story often does, it changed my life.
I thought of all of this as the woman stood there with her hands on my back. I felt a compulsion to take her hands and say “I’m a Christian too! Can I pray for you?”
Because that’s what Jesus did, right? He washed the disciples feet. He served. Shouldn’t I be the one praying?The one serving?
But maybe in this scenario, I was the disciple in need of my feet being washed. How presumptuous of me to always compare myself to Jesus to in that story. Maybe this beautiful woman was being Jesus to me.
Jesus said that it was better to give than to receive, and I believe that is true in many circumstances.
But in some cases, it is better to receive than to give.
It is better to receive when it gives someone dignity.
It is better to receive when that interchange reminds us that we don’t stand on a ladder, but an open field, our arms around each other.
It is better to receive if receiving means that you are listening. Listening and loving look so much alike that you can barely tell them apart.
It is better to receive when it helps us remember that we are all in the same boat, traveling through the tumultuous waters of human experience, comforting each other as we sail towards a better place.
So I didn’t say anything to this woman, and I didn’t stop her from praying for me. I felt her warm hands on my back when I needed human touch the most. I felt her prayers course over me like rain on a scorching hot day. She washed my feet. She washed my feet and I thought…
It feels so good to receive.
ABOUT KATE HURLEY
My name is Kate Hurley. I am a singer songwriter, worship leader, writer, and teacher. I have played music and taught everywhere from German castles to Indian slums to 20,000 people hippie gatherings. I am passionate about working with the poor and marginalized. I am a misisonary with an intentional missional community called Beta Communities. Go to katehurley.com to find out more about me and get free downloads of my music.
For more information on TGIP’s Learning Labs, CLICK HERE.
To apply for one of our upcoming Immigrants’ Journey Learning Labs, CLICK HERE.
Wall of Tears
We walked across the border. The first thing I noticed as we cut through the lines of cars was a man weaving among them... read more
"Wall of Tears" by Kristen Kludt
A beautiful reflection on her time with us on the border by Immigrants’ Journey Learning Lab participant, Kristen Kludt, originally posted on her blog…
We walked across the border. The first thing I noticed as we cut through the lines of cars was a man weaving among them. He carried a basket of churros and a three-foot crucifix. It was gory; Jesus had blood pouring down his face. It looked heavy.
This story feels impossible to recount, perhaps because it is so fresh and so complex. It will take months, perhaps years, before I know what it means.
I will start again at the beginning.
Last weekend Dave and I joined a group from Open Door and two other communities on a Learning Lab put on by The Global Immersion Project. The hope of the trip was that we would immerse ourselves in the lives and stories of those living at or moving across the border. That we would seek to understand, not to be understood. That we would listen longer than felt comfortable. And then that we would go home and contend for peace in our own neighborhoods.
We were met at the border by Alejandra and Samuel. Alejandra works with students, Samuel with those living in the makeshift towns along the river in Tijuana. Both live their lives for the flourishing of other people. “Everything I have is by God’s grace,” Ale told us, “and I have to share it with others.”
As we stood above the river, looking down on the concrete channel, Samuel told us of the people who used to live there. It was a place of desperation. Most of those living at the river were addicts. Yet there was hope – Samuel built ten raised beds and taught ten of the residents to garden. Afterward, half of them were able to get off drugs, hold down jobs, and reintegrate into society, but the project ended. Mexican authorities cleared out those living there for the sake of appearances– it might be a turnoff to US American tourists. Samuel had not yet been able to find out where the people were taken. Ale spoke of the inextricable links between US and Mexican histories: “You can’t understand the story of one without the other. Here, you can’t ignore it, because you are living the consequences. There, maybe you can ignore it, because you are living the benefits.”
That afternoon we went to Casa del Migrante, a temporary home for those on the move that provides shelter, clothing, food, medical care, counseling, and legal assistance. They do all this with no agenda, other than the flourishing of each person. “The human need is always changing, so what we care about is that they are emotionally healthy,” Casa’s counselor told us. “Our job is to help them see the opportunity they have in the situation they’re in, so that they can live the best they can.”
We ate dinner there that night, sharing the table with those staying at the house. The man across from Dave and I had lived in the US for fourteen years and had been deported four days prior. His wife and children were still on the other side of the border. We discovered in our conversation that we had lived within five blocks of each other in our neighborhood in Los Angeles. We had walked the same hiking trails in Griffith Park. We lived in the same place, but not in the same reality; Dave and I lived without fear.
The next morning we met Oscar, who worked with the YMCA for many years. Oscar has seen great tragedy and suffering in his decades of work with unaccompanied minors, and yet he smiles with his whole self, radiating joy. In 1986, the US passed a law that gave amnesty to many undocumented immigrants in the US, but the law didn’t account for families. Wives and kids were being smuggled across the border to join their now-documented husbands and fathers by the thousands. Children were often abandoned by smugglers and apprehended; sometimes they were deported in the middle of the night, into the hands of anyone who happened to be on the Mexican side of the border. Child prostitution skyrocketed. Oscar saw all of this happening and began to bring children into his home in the name of his employer, the YMCA. In 1991, now officially supported by the YMCA, he created a home for thirty children. By the time he retired in 2008, there were four homes along the border. Each is still managed by a family who cares for the kids as their own and helps them to reunite with their families. Between 1991 and 2008, these homes served more than 50,000 children.
Then we went to Friendship Park – a beautiful little park on the coast with a massive wall cutting it in half. The US half was open that day, and so families waited there to glimpse their loved ones. I walked along the wall, peering through the fencing, and I cried. What a reality we have created.
The next morning, we went to the US side of the park, but the road was closed because of rain. We spoke there with two border agents and Enrique Morones, founder of the Border Angels. What struck me most about the conversation was the remarkable collaborative relationship the agents and Enrique have developed. The border agents apprehend the people for whom Enrique leaves water, and yet they worked together so that the gate at Friendship Park was opened once this year – only the second time since it was built in 1971 – so that families could embrace.
Where does all of this leave me? These faces and stories surface and resurface in my mind. How do I respond?
The words that came to me again and again throughout the weekend were compassion and surrender. So, for now, I will allow my compassion to grow. And each day I will ask, what am I to do? Each day, I will listen and each day, I will obey. At least, I hope I will.
At the Tijuana side of Friendship Park, Shaun, one of our guides, encouraged us to look at our own neighborhoods, to think about what walls exist where we live, and to consider where we might become bridges. I will end with the poem that I wrote that day.
El Bordo
I stand in a circle of concrete
and there is the wall.
Who can cross?
The waves can
and the wind
and the birds that perch along the line.
Even the ants –
I watch as they scurry
back and forth,
and back and forth,
one long living line.
Who can cross?
Not the people here, waiting.
Not the ones who come with babies
to huddle together on both sides, wall dividing.
Not her – she can squeeze just the tip of one finger
through the iron
to where he stands on the other side.
Who can cross?
I can.
I lay my body down across the line
and the rain falls on both sides.
ABOUT KRISTEN KLUDT
A wife, mother, and Jesus-follower in the East Bay of San Francisco, Kristen writes as a spiritual guide and contemplative poet. https://klkludt.wordpress.com
For more information on TGIP’s Learning Labs, CLICK HERE.
To apply for one of our upcoming Immigrants’ Journey Learning Labs, CLICK HERE.
Israeli-Palestinian Conflict Learning Lab
As the headlines continue to fill with news of conflict in the Middle East, there is no more important moment to move to the center of these conflicts to learn from the everyday peacemakers choosing the hard road of reconciliation in a region so desperately in need. In fact, through this TGIP experience, you may learn that the news is only telling you a fraction of the story. There is hope, we just have to have the eyes to see and ears to hear. Read this reflection from TGIP alum, Kurt Willems.
The Israel-Gaza Conflict has Names and Faces: Hearing Voices from Both Sides of the Wall
I was fortunate to spend ten days in the region this past winter with The Global Immersion Project... read moreThe Israel-Gaza Conflict has Names and Faces: Hearing Voices from Both Sides of the Wall by Kurt Willems
Over the past several weeks, my heart has grieved the violence taking place in Gaza. Hamas hurts the cause of all Palestinians when they shoot their homemade rockets over the wall at innocent civilians in Israel. And Israel perpetuates the desperation of groups like Hamas with their unjust policies, walls, and discrimination. Both sides of the story need to be told. A better future is possible–but it won’t come through violence. Violence begets violence–every time.
Most Christians, I hope, agree that war isn’t helpful. The ridiculous number of Palestinian civilian casualties and deaths testify to this reality. But so often I’ve read many folks’ comments who appeal to this conflict through the grid of justified violence and theories. So much of the rhetoric often dehumanizes the “other” rather than actually seeing in each victim one created in the image of God (and here I’m thinking of Israeli civilian victims also, who fear for their lives when rockets start coming over the wall).
Some say: “Until Palestinians denounce rhetoric about Israel’s right to exist I won’t feel compassion for them.” Unfortunately the same sorts of things are said about the Palestinian people from the Israeli side of the wall (and even within Palestinian territories where settlements exist). I personally saw banners that had just been placed all around the division point of the Israeli settlement in Hebron that said “Palestine never existed” and other violent language (sadly funded by American zionists). So, we need to name the language games that are played by extremists on both ends of this conflict.
But, are extremists the only faces and names that we need to consider in this conflict? I. Sure. Hope. Not!
But before we go on to talk about people that are easier to get along with, let’s not forget the Christian demand of discipleship: “Love your enemies.” Central to the Gospel announcement of Jesus is the nonviolent love of those who would oppose us: sometimes physically and other times ideologically. At the center of discipleship is love–love for God and for neighbors. And lest we forget the criteria for a “neighbor,” Jesus makes that clear in the story of the Good Samaritan: a neighbor is the person we naturally hate. For a Jew in the first century to even acknowledge a Samaritan as anything but a despised traitor to the God of Israel was unthinkable! Yet that is exactly what Jesus called his hearers to–to equate enemies to the status of neighbor. Therefore, a neighbor is any and every person on the face of this earth that we like, dislike, or would even consider an enemy. We are called to love our enemy-neighbors.
Can you love a neighbor while cheering on their destruction? No. Can you love a neighbor while shooting them? No. Therefore, we as Christians should have no skin in the game regarding the current conflict except to seek peace and love. Justifying the death of kidnapped teens in Israel or the bombing of children on a beach in Gaza doesn’t fit Jesus-centered conversation. Jesus is morally opposed to both scenarios.
Of course nations aren’t “Christian” so we can’t expect them to act out of our own Christian values. However, we should expect that Christians would embody Christian values during times of violence and destruction. For Christians, when we see our Palestinian friends being tormented by the American-funded Israeli military machine–we should see the faces and names of image-bearers. And when we hear about the fear that many Israelis experience on a regular basis due to indiscriminate rocket fire from Hamas–we should see through their fear and discover human beings created in the image of the Divine.
Most Westerners haven’t had the opportunity to visit Israel/Palestine to look human beings in the eyes. I was fortunate to spend ten days in the region this past winter withThe Global Immersion Project. I visited both Israeli regions and the West Bank. And let me tell you this: on both sides of the wall are WONDERFUL humans who are kind and hospitable. Both live with lingering fear. But both also have hope. Peacemakers on both sides of the wall desire peace and justice to become normative.
I asked one Israeli and one Palestinian friend to give me their own perspectives on the current conflict. If we are going to humanize this issue, we need to hear from credible sources on the ground. Granted, these are just two perspectives–moderate perspectives–but it’s a start.
Milad (a Palestinian Christian peacemaker) and Liel (an Israeli peacemaker):*
In what follows I want to offer a few insights offered by each of these friends. Both are wonderful human beings. Milad leads a community center that is making a powerful impact in the West Bank. Liel is a peace activist who has facilitated Israeli-Palestinian sharing circles and organized Arabic learning groups.
In a war like this one, relevant information changes on a daily basis. These comments were put together a couple weeks ago, so they might need to be nuanced on some minor points. Liel responded on 7/27 and Milad on 8/4. Much has unfolded since these initial responses came in, but they help frame the situation for us.
Milad: [When I asked about experiences in the West Bank...] In the West Bank it more than fear: it is about human rights and the killing of civilians. We feel sorrow and sadness for our brothers and sisters in Gaza. What is happening is a war crime and the world is silent… and United Nations too. The images we see [in the media] create anger, revenge, and violence. I don’t see hope; we are seen as numbers not humans.
Liel: [When I asked about experiences of Israeli citizens...] I’m not an average Israeli and because we Israelis are very different from each other, it is very difficult to define. But in general, I can say that the common feeling is frustration and fear. The question is: from what and why? Some have these [negative] feelings towards Palestinians, others towards [Israeli] Leftists and some because of the [Israeli] Right Wing.
Milad: [As a Palestinians Christian...] Moments like this keep my spirit in continuousprayer. As Christian Palestinian we are [part of] one nation with our Muslim brothers. It is a real challenge to see the evilness of war and killing toward us Palestinians..and the [cycle of] revenge and discrimination. We as peacemakers have hope in Christ Jesus. He is our savior from the death and evil. Hate and not recognizing the “other” with pride kills everyone here. I believe God is in control and will bring peace.
Liel: [As an Israeli who believes in peace,] I believe the situation is dialectical In some way. On the one hand, this escalation challenges my beliefs as it exposes clearly the violent actors in this conflict that need to be confronted. Not convinced, but really confronted in order to weaken their actions and strengthen the opposite direction. In calmer periods it is often easy to believe that you can convince everyone but now some enforcement and confrontation seem legitimate as well. On the other hand, the same specific escalation together with its violent actors exposes more clearly the people that work for peace. One extreme is bringing light to the other side which brings hope to the alternative.
Milad: [What Americans should know is] that the country of Israel is against international laws and human rights. We [Palestinians] are not slaves–we are people. Americans should stop supporting a criminal state. Through your tax dollars you are killing a child; you are destroying a school; you are poisoning our dreams. You are investing in war. If you love Israelis that is fine. But don’t forget that there is a Palestinian child without a school or that he doesn’t have food or that he is without house. By the way, more than 500 house or more was destroyed [based on when this response was originally written]. We need Americans to support our freedom, justice, peace and reconciliation. We need your voices to end occupation and this apartheid system. The two nations are tired from fear, hate, and violence. We want to move freely in our countries and not to feel that we are unwelcome or foreigners. We are tired from negotiation and peace processes. We want real steps toward peace. If violence will bring our peace, we all will go for it, but we know that it isn’t the solution. As Martin Luther King Jr. said: I have a dream. We’ve been dreaming for almost 64 years. To seek nonviolence we need courage, hope, faith, and salvation. We need love and reconciliation. We need humbleness and the occupation needs to end.
Liel: [What I hope Americans will hear from me is that...] When two kids are fighting, the parent gets in the middle strongly in order firstly to separate them. The parent doesn’t offer other options, try to learn the local narratives or even declare that the sides know what is best for them. We don’t know. Americans must know that they are the parent or minimum the big brother in this conflict. [Editor note: I think Liel is encouraging us Americans to get to know the local narratives, etc. As we learn from both sides we then can help discern the things that will make for peace.]
Concluding Thoughts
Milad and Liel are humans directly affected by this war. In Liel, you have the perspective of a thoughtful and compassionate Israeli. (And without getting into another story, I’ve witnessed Liel’s compassion firsthand toward a Palestinian child). In Milad, you have a Christian wrestling with the pain of witnessing friends and family killed. Not only so, but Milad is in the emotional mix of this very human conflict. Even when it isn’t violent, each day his people suffer from a lack of resources and dehumanizing restrictions imposed by the Israeli government and Defense Force. He (and his family and co-workers) are sources of light and love in his neighborhood and town even in the midst of instability.
In both of these perspectives, I see hope. I see that peace is possible. It may require a radical shift in how Israel relates to its Palestinian neighbors. But ultimately, this will be fueled by peacemakers who decide that there are human beings on both sides of the walls. As Palestinian Muslim Peacemaker Ibrahim Ahmad Abu El-Hawa said when we were sitting at a dinner table in Jerusalem: “The hardest walls to topple are the walls of fear the separate our heads from our hearts.” It’s time to conquer fear with humanizing love.
*I helped clean up language on a few points but kept the essence of their comments in tact–to the best of my ability. I was honored that my two friends were willing to contribute to this article.
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The Global Immersion Project
2476 A Street, Unit 1
As the headlines continue to fill with news of conflict in the Middle East, there is no more important moment to move to the center of these conflicts to learn from the everyday peacemakers choosing the hard road of reconciliation in a region so desperately in need. In fact, through this TGIP experience, you may learn that the news is only telling you a fraction of the story. There is hope, we just have to have the eyes to see and ears to hear. Read this reflection from TGIP alum, Kurt Willems.
The Israel-Gaza Conflict has Names and Faces: Hearing Voices from Both Sides of the Wall
I was fortunate to spend ten days in the region this past winter with The Global Immersion Project... read moreThe Israel-Gaza Conflict has Names and Faces: Hearing Voices from Both Sides of the Wall by Kurt Willems
Over the past several weeks, my heart has grieved the violence taking place in Gaza. Hamas hurts the cause of all Palestinians when they shoot their homemade rockets over the wall at innocent civilians in Israel. And Israel perpetuates the desperation of groups like Hamas with their unjust policies, walls, and discrimination. Both sides of the story need to be told. A better future is possible–but it won’t come through violence. Violence begets violence–every time.
Most Christians, I hope, agree that war isn’t helpful. The ridiculous number of Palestinian civilian casualties and deaths testify to this reality. But so often I’ve read many folks’ comments who appeal to this conflict through the grid of justified violence and theories. So much of the rhetoric often dehumanizes the “other” rather than actually seeing in each victim one created in the image of God (and here I’m thinking of Israeli civilian victims also, who fear for their lives when rockets start coming over the wall).
Some say: “Until Palestinians denounce rhetoric about Israel’s right to exist I won’t feel compassion for them.” Unfortunately the same sorts of things are said about the Palestinian people from the Israeli side of the wall (and even within Palestinian territories where settlements exist). I personally saw banners that had just been placed all around the division point of the Israeli settlement in Hebron that said “Palestine never existed” and other violent language (sadly funded by American zionists). So, we need to name the language games that are played by extremists on both ends of this conflict.
But, are extremists the only faces and names that we need to consider in this conflict? I. Sure. Hope. Not!
But before we go on to talk about people that are easier to get along with, let’s not forget the Christian demand of discipleship: “Love your enemies.” Central to the Gospel announcement of Jesus is the nonviolent love of those who would oppose us: sometimes physically and other times ideologically. At the center of discipleship is love–love for God and for neighbors. And lest we forget the criteria for a “neighbor,” Jesus makes that clear in the story of the Good Samaritan: a neighbor is the person we naturally hate. For a Jew in the first century to even acknowledge a Samaritan as anything but a despised traitor to the God of Israel was unthinkable! Yet that is exactly what Jesus called his hearers to–to equate enemies to the status of neighbor. Therefore, a neighbor is any and every person on the face of this earth that we like, dislike, or would even consider an enemy. We are called to love our enemy-neighbors.
Can you love a neighbor while cheering on their destruction? No. Can you love a neighbor while shooting them? No. Therefore, we as Christians should have no skin in the game regarding the current conflict except to seek peace and love. Justifying the death of kidnapped teens in Israel or the bombing of children on a beach in Gaza doesn’t fit Jesus-centered conversation. Jesus is morally opposed to both scenarios.
Of course nations aren’t “Christian” so we can’t expect them to act out of our own Christian values. However, we should expect that Christians would embody Christian values during times of violence and destruction. For Christians, when we see our Palestinian friends being tormented by the American-funded Israeli military machine–we should see the faces and names of image-bearers. And when we hear about the fear that many Israelis experience on a regular basis due to indiscriminate rocket fire from Hamas–we should see through their fear and discover human beings created in the image of the Divine.
Most Westerners haven’t had the opportunity to visit Israel/Palestine to look human beings in the eyes. I was fortunate to spend ten days in the region this past winter withThe Global Immersion Project. I visited both Israeli regions and the West Bank. And let me tell you this: on both sides of the wall are WONDERFUL humans who are kind and hospitable. Both live with lingering fear. But both also have hope. Peacemakers on both sides of the wall desire peace and justice to become normative.
I asked one Israeli and one Palestinian friend to give me their own perspectives on the current conflict. If we are going to humanize this issue, we need to hear from credible sources on the ground. Granted, these are just two perspectives–moderate perspectives–but it’s a start.
Milad (a Palestinian Christian peacemaker) and Liel (an Israeli peacemaker):*
In what follows I want to offer a few insights offered by each of these friends. Both are wonderful human beings. Milad leads a community center that is making a powerful impact in the West Bank. Liel is a peace activist who has facilitated Israeli-Palestinian sharing circles and organized Arabic learning groups.
In a war like this one, relevant information changes on a daily basis. These comments were put together a couple weeks ago, so they might need to be nuanced on some minor points. Liel responded on 7/27 and Milad on 8/4. Much has unfolded since these initial responses came in, but they help frame the situation for us.
Milad: [When I asked about experiences in the West Bank...] In the West Bank it more than fear: it is about human rights and the killing of civilians. We feel sorrow and sadness for our brothers and sisters in Gaza. What is happening is a war crime and the world is silent… and United Nations too. The images we see [in the media] create anger, revenge, and violence. I don’t see hope; we are seen as numbers not humans.
Liel: [When I asked about experiences of Israeli citizens...] I’m not an average Israeli and because we Israelis are very different from each other, it is very difficult to define. But in general, I can say that the common feeling is frustration and fear. The question is: from what and why? Some have these [negative] feelings towards Palestinians, others towards [Israeli] Leftists and some because of the [Israeli] Right Wing.
Milad: [As a Palestinians Christian...] Moments like this keep my spirit in continuousprayer. As Christian Palestinian we are [part of] one nation with our Muslim brothers. It is a real challenge to see the evilness of war and killing toward us Palestinians..and the [cycle of] revenge and discrimination. We as peacemakers have hope in Christ Jesus. He is our savior from the death and evil. Hate and not recognizing the “other” with pride kills everyone here. I believe God is in control and will bring peace.
Liel: [As an Israeli who believes in peace,] I believe the situation is dialectical In some way. On the one hand, this escalation challenges my beliefs as it exposes clearly the violent actors in this conflict that need to be confronted. Not convinced, but really confronted in order to weaken their actions and strengthen the opposite direction. In calmer periods it is often easy to believe that you can convince everyone but now some enforcement and confrontation seem legitimate as well. On the other hand, the same specific escalation together with its violent actors exposes more clearly the people that work for peace. One extreme is bringing light to the other side which brings hope to the alternative.
Milad: [What Americans should know is] that the country of Israel is against international laws and human rights. We [Palestinians] are not slaves–we are people. Americans should stop supporting a criminal state. Through your tax dollars you are killing a child; you are destroying a school; you are poisoning our dreams. You are investing in war. If you love Israelis that is fine. But don’t forget that there is a Palestinian child without a school or that he doesn’t have food or that he is without house. By the way, more than 500 house or more was destroyed [based on when this response was originally written]. We need Americans to support our freedom, justice, peace and reconciliation. We need your voices to end occupation and this apartheid system. The two nations are tired from fear, hate, and violence. We want to move freely in our countries and not to feel that we are unwelcome or foreigners. We are tired from negotiation and peace processes. We want real steps toward peace. If violence will bring our peace, we all will go for it, but we know that it isn’t the solution. As Martin Luther King Jr. said: I have a dream. We’ve been dreaming for almost 64 years. To seek nonviolence we need courage, hope, faith, and salvation. We need love and reconciliation. We need humbleness and the occupation needs to end.
Liel: [What I hope Americans will hear from me is that...] When two kids are fighting, the parent gets in the middle strongly in order firstly to separate them. The parent doesn’t offer other options, try to learn the local narratives or even declare that the sides know what is best for them. We don’t know. Americans must know that they are the parent or minimum the big brother in this conflict. [Editor note: I think Liel is encouraging us Americans to get to know the local narratives, etc. As we learn from both sides we then can help discern the things that will make for peace.]
Concluding Thoughts
Milad and Liel are humans directly affected by this war. In Liel, you have the perspective of a thoughtful and compassionate Israeli. (And without getting into another story, I’ve witnessed Liel’s compassion firsthand toward a Palestinian child). In Milad, you have a Christian wrestling with the pain of witnessing friends and family killed. Not only so, but Milad is in the emotional mix of this very human conflict. Even when it isn’t violent, each day his people suffer from a lack of resources and dehumanizing restrictions imposed by the Israeli government and Defense Force. He (and his family and co-workers) are sources of light and love in his neighborhood and town even in the midst of instability.
In both of these perspectives, I see hope. I see that peace is possible. It may require a radical shift in how Israel relates to its Palestinian neighbors. But ultimately, this will be fueled by peacemakers who decide that there are human beings on both sides of the walls. As Palestinian Muslim Peacemaker Ibrahim Ahmad Abu El-Hawa said when we were sitting at a dinner table in Jerusalem: “The hardest walls to topple are the walls of fear the separate our heads from our hearts.” It’s time to conquer fear with humanizing love.
*I helped clean up language on a few points but kept the essence of their comments in tact–to the best of my ability. I was honored that my two friends were willing to contribute to this article.
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